Free Forever and a Day by Ann Gimpel Page A

efforts to soothe her frazzled nerves, her shifter side was frantic to heal the damage. If she changed to her cat form, the injury would repair itself quickly.
    Why didn’t I think of that the moment he left? Tamara glanced nervously at the door, and then at the microwave oven’s clock. She’d almost decided to shift and take care of herself when she caught her breath and slammed her palm against her forehead. How the hell would she explain her sudden recurrence of health? It wasn’t as if she could tell Lars she’d found a faith healer lurking in the hall.
    She licked at dry lips and sank onto one of the sofas. She only stayed for a moment before she got to her feet again, worried she’d bleed on the light beige upholstery. Stumbling slightly, she made her way to the kitchen sink, ran cold water, and drank from her cupped hands after she’d rinsed blood from them.
    Panic swamped her when she understood she’d laid the gun on the kitchen counter. She gripped it again, water dribbling down her chin, and turned to face the door. It opened. Her hand tensed. “It is me, fraulein ,” Lars called before opening the door far enough for him to enter their suite.
    Tamara dropped the gun back onto the ledge, buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears. She felt horrified by her lack of self-control, but couldn’t stop sobbing. The harder she tried for composure, the worse things got.
    Lars closed his arms around her. “There, there, liebchen . It will be all right. The woman will not bother us further. She will not wish to be found out, so when she regains consciousness, she will merely report back to her superiors. It will take her a while, though, since I removed her communications devices from her bag, along with her money, keys, and identification.”
    Tamara gulped air. “Who was she?”
    “I have no idea. Her identification had to be falsified. No one in this business carries their true identity documents.”
    “Oh my God, sure and I was such a fool to let Jaret know who I was.” Another sob pushed its way out, obliterating further speech.
    Lars smoothed her hair back from her sweaty forehead. “Let me take a look at your shoulder.” He let go of her and pushed her loose-necked sweater down. She grunted in pain while he probed from both sides with knowing fingers. “It is clean. The bullet went through muscle tissue. No vessels are torn, or you would be bleeding much more than you are.”
    She opened her mouth, and then shut it with a snap.
    “What is it, liebchen ? Do you wish a physician? He could disinfect and wrap it, plus antibiotics might be a good call. There is nothing magic about us leaving here at a set time.”
    Should I tell him? She drew away and focused her gaze on the carpet. “I, er, um, that is, I can fix it myself, but I need privacy.” She risked a glance his way, expecting to see horror—or pity—that she’d lost her mind. He just looked at her, his cool, gray gaze appraising.
    “Would the bedroom do?”
    She nodded. “This will sound odd, but no matter what you hear, don’t come in.” She offered a weak smile, but it faltered. “I have a feeling the lock wouldn’t keep you out.”
    He did something curious then. He smiled. Really smiled, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It lightened his normally severe expression and turned him into rock star gorgeous. Lars half-bowed in her direction. “Take whatever time you need. I will watch over you—and honor your request for privacy.”
    “Don’t, I mean aren’t you going to ask me anything?” Tamara had prepared a half-baked tale about Irish witchcraft, but it didn’t appear she’d need it.
    “No. I am going to turn on the television and see if I can find a sporting match to watch.”
    It’s almost like he knows.
    He couldn’t possibly. He’s just being kind.
    She wanted to ask a hundred questions, but there wasn’t even one of them that wouldn’t totally blow her secret side. Tamara walked across the room, her