{"id":778,"date":"2016-06-27T18:33:56","date_gmt":"2016-06-27T18:33:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.anngimpel.com\/?post_type=portfolio&p=778"},"modified":"2020-02-01T15:24:33","modified_gmt":"2020-02-01T23:24:33","slug":"lars-rubicon-international-2","status":"publish","type":"portfolio","link":"https:\/\/anngimpel.com\/?portfolio=lars-rubicon-international-2","title":{"rendered":"Lars, Rubicon International Book Two"},"content":{"rendered":"

[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ fullwidth=”on” _builder_version=”4.0.5″ background_image=”http:\/\/anngimpel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/08\/DragonHeirWebsiteSlider.jpg”][et_pb_fullwidth_header _builder_version=”4.0.5″ background_image=”http:\/\/anngimpel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/RubiconInternationalSlider.jpg”][\/et_pb_fullwidth_header][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ fullwidth=”on” _builder_version=”4.0.5″ custom_margin=”0px||0px||true|false” custom_padding=”0px||0px||true|false” global_module=”1507″ saved_tabs=”all”][et_pb_fullwidth_header title=”Sign up for Ann’s News and Events ” subhead=”And Read Witch’s Bounty for Free” button_one_text=”Click Here” button_one_url=” http:\/\/eepurl.com\/dp8QcP” header_image_url=”http:\/\/anngimpel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/WitchesBounty3D-1-150×147.png” _builder_version=”4.0.5″ title_level=”h2″ title_text_align=”left” content_line_height=”1.6em” subhead_text_align=”left” background_color=”#38336d” background_enable_image=”off” custom_button_one=”on” button_one_border_radius=”11px” button_one_custom_margin=”0px||||false|false” button_one_custom_margin_tablet=”” button_one_custom_margin_phone=”” button_one_custom_margin_last_edited=”on|phone” height=”233px” custom_margin=”0px||0px||true|false” custom_padding=”10px||10px||true|false” custom_padding_tablet=”” custom_padding_phone=”” custom_padding_last_edited=”on|phone” title_font_size_tablet=”” title_font_size_phone=”17px” title_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” content_text_align_tablet=”” content_text_align_phone=”” content_text_align_last_edited=”on|phone” content_font_size_tablet=”” content_font_size_phone=”12px” content_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” subhead_font_size_tablet=”” subhead_font_size_phone=”14px” subhead_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” button_one_text_size_tablet=”” button_one_text_size_phone=”12px” button_one_text_size_last_edited=”on|phone” button_one_icon_placement_tablet=”” button_one_icon_placement_phone=”right” button_one_icon_placement_last_edited=”on|phone” child_filter_opacity_tablet=”” child_filter_opacity_phone=”0%” child_filter_opacity_last_edited=”on|phone” custom_css_logo=”||”][\/et_pb_fullwidth_header][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″ background_image=”http:\/\/anngimpel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/BodyBG.jpg” background_repeat=”repeat-x”][et_pb_row column_structure=”2_5,3_5″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″][et_pb_column type=”2_5″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″][et_pb_image src=”http:\/\/anngimpel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/Lars.png” _builder_version=”4.0.5″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_button button_text=”Buy Now” button_alignment=”center” module_class=”rv_button closed” _builder_version=”4.0.5″ custom_button=”on” button_text_size=”16px” button_text_color=”#ffffff” button_bg_color=”#38336c” button_border_width=”0px” button_border_color=”#000000″ button_letter_spacing=”1px” button_font=”|||on|||||” button_icon=”%%34%%” button_icon_color=”#ffffff” button_icon_placement=”left” background_layout=”dark” custom_margin=”40px||||false|false” custom_padding=”|120px||120px|false|false”][\/et_pb_button][et_pb_blurb module_id=”reveal” _builder_version=”4.0.5″ body_font=”|||on|on||||” body_letter_spacing=”1px” text_orientation=”center” width=”320px” module_alignment=”center” custom_margin=”10px||||false|false” custom_padding=”|50px||50px|false|false” border_width_all=”1px”]Buy Direct From Author<\/a><\/p>\n

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 [\/et_pb_blurb][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”3_5″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″][et_pb_blurb title=”Lars, Rubicon International Book Two” _builder_version=”4.0.5″ header_level=”h1″]Undercover Shifter Bad Boys = Alphas With Serious Attitude!<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tumble across the Rubicon into the death-riddled world of international espionage.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Book Description:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Lars:<\/strong> Tamara MacBride has a much bigger problem than hiding her shifter side from the world. By the skin of her teeth, and with a smattering of Irish luck, she manages to kill her sister\u2019s murderer. Escaping from the scene of the crime is much harder than she anticipated. Just when she thinks she might be safe, her cab driver shrieks and slumps over the wheel.<\/p>\n

An unknown assailant terminates Lars Kinsvogel\u2019s target. Pleased by the outcome\u2014after all dead is dead\u2014he exchanges the glitz of Monte Carlo for a nearby airport, intent on collecting the private plane he left there. He\u2019s no sooner arrived when a cab jumps the curb, and he races over to investigate. There\u2019s not much he can do for the cabbie, but his passenger is still very much alive.<\/p>\n

Trying to hustle Tamara out of the cab is tough. She\u2019s frozen by fear, but when Lars lays out the rest of his plan to move her out of danger\u2019s path, her temper flares. He can\u2019t leave her alone in Monte Carlo. Can he convince her to trust him in time to save her life?<\/p>\n

Start reading right now![\/et_pb_blurb][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″ background_image=”http:\/\/anngimpel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/BodyBG.jpg” locked=”off”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.0.5″][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″][et_pb_blurb title=”More in the Rubicon International Series” _builder_version=”4.0.5″ header_level=”h3″ header_text_align=”center”][\/et_pb_blurb][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.0.5″][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″][et_pb_dpblog_portfolio fullwidth=”off” custom_post_types=”portfolio” include_categories=”46″ show_categories=”off” use_overlay=”off” _builder_version=”4.0.5″ custom_margin=”|20px||20px|false|true” custom_padding=”|20px||20px|false|true”][\/et_pb_dpblog_portfolio][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″ background_image=”http:\/\/anngimpel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/BodyBG.jpg”][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_3,1_3,1_3″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″ locked=”off” global_module=”2170″ saved_tabs=”all”][et_pb_column type=”1_3″ _builder_version=”4.0.5″][et_pb_blurb title=” About Ann” _builder_version=”4.0.5″]<\/p>\n

I’m basically a mountaineer at heart. I remember many hours at my desk where my body may have been stuck inside four walls, but my soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry.\u00a0There’s a timeless element to the mountains. They feel like old friends as I visit them, and visit them again. There’s nothing like standing on a remote pass where I’ve been before and seeing that the vista is unchanged. Or on an\u00a0equally\u00a0remote peak. Mountains are the bones of the world. They’ll prevail long after all of us are dust. It feels honest and humbling to share space with them. I hope I’m blessed with many more years to wander the local landscape. The memories are incomparable. They warm me and help me believe there will be something left for our children and their children after them.<\/span><\/p>\n

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Buy Direct From Author Amazon Kobo Barnes and Nobe Apple Books Google Play In Print  Undercover Shifter Bad Boys = Alphas With Serious Attitude! Tumble across the Rubicon into the death-riddled world of international espionage. Book Description: Lars: Tamara MacBride has a much bigger problem than hiding her shifter side from the world. By the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":779,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"template":"template-page-builder.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"Get the series! Garen and Lars.<\/strong>\r\n\r\n\"PageflexUndercover Shifter Bad Boys = Alphas With Serious Attitude!<\/strong>\r\n\r\nTumble across the Rubicon into the death-riddled world of international espionage.<\/strong>\r\n\r\nBook Description:<\/strong>\r\n\r\nLars:<\/strong> Tamara MacBride has a much bigger problem than hiding her shifter side from the world. By the skin of her teeth, and with a smattering of Irish luck, she manages to kill her sister\u2019s murderer. Escaping from the scene of the crime is much harder than she anticipated. Just when she thinks she might be safe, her cab driver shrieks and slumps over the wheel.\r\n\r\nAn unknown assailant terminates Lars Kinsvogel\u2019s target. Pleased by the outcome\u2014after all dead is dead\u2014he exchanges the glitz of Monte Carlo for a nearby airport, intent on collecting the private plane he left there. He\u2019s no sooner arrived when a cab jumps the curb, and he races over to investigate. There\u2019s not much he can do for the cabbie, but his passenger is still very much alive.\r\n\r\nTrying to hustle Tamara out of the cab is tough. She\u2019s frozen by fear, but when Lars lays out the rest of his plan to move her out of danger\u2019s path, her temper flares. He can\u2019t leave her alone in Monte Carlo. Can he convince her to trust him in time to save her life?\r\n\r\nStart reading right now!\r\n

<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a>Chapter One<\/strong><\/h2>\r\nLars Kinsvogel sucked in an annoyed breath. Anxiety and greed thickened the air in Monte Carlo\u2019s Place de Casino, and he stifled a choking sound. Damn his hypersensitive shifter senses. If it weren\u2019t for them, the desperation hovering around him wouldn\u2019t be quite so palpable. Casinos were always like this, though, a haven for the rash and reckless. What had likely begun as a harmless pastime turned into hardcore addiction for an unfortunate few, forcing them to return again and again despite diminishing returns.\r\n\r\nHope springs eternal. All the poor sods need is one more spin of the wheel, another hand of cards\u2026 Lars glanced up, right into the croupier\u2019s beady gaze.<\/em>\r\n\r\n\u201cWould monsieur like to place a bet?\u201d The croupier grinned with all the warmth of a hammerhead shark, displaying a mouthful of bad teeth. What was it with the French and their aversion to dentistry? Lars shook his head and made shooing motions with one hand. He\u2019d have to either join the baccarat game soon or move on, but he could get away with loitering for a few more minutes without drawing undue attention to himself.\r\n\r\nHis target, a powerfully built man with features revealing Chinese ancestry, had an arm slung around a striking brunette. Maybe she was one of the hookers who worked the casino circuit, or maybe she was a steady thing for the man.\r\n\r\nLars considered it and decided she could be both. Around five feet eight, she had a lush, curvy body, dark hair cut into a stylish bob that fell a few inches past her shoulders, and memorable eyes the color of a restless ocean. A short, black sheath hugged her like a second skin. Open nearly to her waist, it displayed half her full breasts. Even though Lars\u2019 appraisal was surreptitious, he forced his gaze elsewhere. The woman was sex incarnate, and he didn\u2019t need anything diverting him from his objective.\r\n\r\nJaret Chen pressed chips into his companion\u2019s hand and urged her to pick a number. He gave one of her breasts a familiar squeeze, which earned him a smile, perfectly rouged lips stretching over impossibly straight teeth\u2014and a slight shake of her head. Color stained her tanned skin. Lars realized he was looking at the woman again, wondering how her breasts would feel beneath his fingers. She seemed uncomfortable with Jaret\u2019s frank exploration of her body, so she probably wasn\u2019t a pro. For some unexplained reason, Lars felt relieved. The woman was too elegant to earn her living lying on her back.\r\n\r\nHe snorted to himself and studied the flashing display above the baccarat table. Maybe the woman wasn\u2019t French. That might explain her perfect teeth\u2014and her discomfort with having her body mauled in public. At least she held Jaret\u2019s attention. So far the drug dealer hadn\u2019t spared him so much as a sidelong glance. Lars had never met the man, but knew a great deal about him from an extensive dossier provided by Rubicon International. Deeply involved in the heroin trade from the Middle East, across the Mediterranean, and into Europe, Jaret was one of the principals in a large operation\u2014and Lars\u2019 current target.\r\n\r\nHe sized the man up. Maybe six feet, he had a barrel chest. Strongly muscled arms strained against the fabric of his cream-colored, silk dress shirt. His art deco tie had been loosened. Dark eyes, pronounced cheekbones, and straight dark hair cut short blended with his business attire. For all intents and purposes, he was indistinguishable from the phalanx of wealthy\u2014and wannabe wealthy\u2014men circulating through the casino. Lars glanced at his own cream-colored silk shirt and black linen pants. With the exception that his tie was still firmly knotted, he and Jaret were dressed as twins.\r\n\r\nGuess neither of us wanted to stick out in anyone\u2019s memory.<\/em>\r\n\r\nLars glanced at his Rolex. Close to midnight and time to move on. He\u2019d seen enough. Now it was a matter of figuring out where and when to strike. These things always went more smoothly when he was close to invisible. He melted into the crowd and made his way outside. The casino fronted the French Riviera, and Lars stood looking out at the Mediterranean for long moments. The water was quiet tonight, waves barely slapping the white sand beach. His cell phone, set on silent, vibrated against his hip, and he tugged it from a pocket to look at the display.\r\n\r\nPrivate. Damn!<\/em> Could be anyone.\r\n\r\nLars punched the answer icon, held the phone to his ear, and waited. No need to say anything until he knew who was on the other end.\r\n\r\n\u201cAre you somewhere you can talk?\u201d\r\n\r\nLars inhaled sharply as Garen LeRochefort\u2019s voice came through the phone\u2019s speaker.\r\n\r\nAnother shifter, Garen had founded Rubicon International with Lars hundreds of years before. The mechanics of the spy game had changed drastically between the late seventeen hundreds and modern times, but the basics\u2014kill or be killed\u2014hadn\u2019t altered much. Everyone who worked for Rubicon International was some type of shifter. Lars\u2019 animal form was a mountain lion, Garen\u2019s a wolf.\r\n\r\nLars loped farther down the beach until he cleared several couples engaged in deep, hungry kisses before responding. \u201cWhat has happened?\u201d Something must have, or Garen wouldn\u2019t have risked contact.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou need to leave.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBut I have not\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDoesn\u2019t matter,\u201d Garen cut in. \u201cI\u2019ll explain when you\u2019re back in the office on a fully encrypted line.\u201d\r\n\r\nLars thought about his twin engine Piper Seneca waiting at the Nice airport, twenty-four kilometers from Monte Carlo. It gave him freedom to come and go, and was much cheaper to operate than the business class jets he also owned. \u201cMaybe I could still\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo!\u201d The one word thundered so loud, Lars moved the phone away from his ear. \u201cDon\u2019t even go back to your room.\u201d Garen hesitated. \u201cOld friend. Trust me on this.\u201d The line went dead.\r\n\r\nLars stared at the iPhone\u2019s display and dropped the device back into his pocket. He\u2019d been compromised. He wasn\u2019t certain quite how, and a part of him was curious as hell. He kept walking, swinging in a wide circle to head back toward the Hotel de Paris. Garen had said not to return to his room, but if he was careful, maybe he could learn something critical that would help their side.\r\n\r\n\u201cJa<\/em>, forewarned is forearmed,\u201d he muttered.\r\n\r\nKeycard in hand, he let himself into a side door of the rambling old structure, got his bearings, and started cautiously up a stairwell. His suite was on the second floor, at the very end of the wing facing the Mediterranean. He\u2019d always loved the old hotel with its thick, patterned carpets and antique lighting and furnishings. Staying next to the walls, he used a bit of shifter magic to cast a don\u2019t look here<\/em> spell. It wouldn\u2019t keep someone determined from seeing him, but it didn\u2019t require much magic, either.\r\n\r\nHe entered the second floor a few doors from his own and scanned the empty hallway, his senses on high alert. Midnight was early in Monte Carlo, a city where people frequently stayed up through dawn and slept the day away, so he fully expected to see other guests, but the hall was mercifully empty. He padded silently toward his door and examined it, wishing he\u2019d set a trap. He inhaled, trying to sort scents, but there were too many to make sense of. He could leave, just walk away like Garen had almost ordered him to, but Lars had never been a coward, and he was more intrigued than frightened. He\u2019d spent years worming his way out of dicey situations. This was just one more, and he was damned if he\u2019d walk away from his things. Not unless he had to.\r\n\r\nHe took a deep breath, tugged his guaranteed-not-to-set-off-metal-detectors .32 caliber revolver from its ankle holster, and shoved the key card into the slot in the door. A tiny electric motor hummed before the deadbolt snicked out of the way. He turned the latch, kicked the door open, and pivoted from side to side, scanning the sitting room of his suite, gun at the ready. Lars waited in the doorway, barely breathing, and then he heard a muted click, followed by an unmistakable whirr, and knew.\r\n\r\nA bomb.\r\n\r\nHe cursed in German, not knowing if he was more annoyed with the turn of events or with himself for not taking Garen\u2019s advice and getting the hell out of there.\r\n\r\n* * * *\r\n\r\nTamara MacBride pushed the betting chips back into Jaret\u2019s hand. \u201cSure and I\u2019m not feeling like wagering just now,\u201d she murmured. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you do it for me?\u201d\r\n\r\nHe shot her an odd look. \u201cBut you like to gamble.\u201d\r\n\r\nYou only think I do.<\/em>\r\n\r\n\u201cSomething we had for supper didn\u2019t quite settle. Would you mind if I sat somewhere?\u201d She swayed a bit on her feet to make her statement more realistic and sent a weak smile his way. In truth, she was a bit nauseated. Between sweat and greed, the air in the casino stank of humanity\u2019s darker side. Expensive colognes added a queer edge, their rich scents intensifying as their owners\u2019 anxiety rose. If she hadn\u2019t been a shifter, she might not have noticed, at least not as much. So far, she\u2019d done a decent job hiding what she was from Jaret. She aimed to keep things that way.\r\n\r\nHe ran a thick index finger down the bare skin between her breasts. \u201cWe could return to our rooms.\u201d\r\n\r\nShe crinkled her face in what she hoped looked like an apology and did her best to ooze regret. \u201cBetter wait until my tummy settles.\u201d He was arrogant enough, he had no idea how repulsive she found him. Thank all the bloody saints, she\u2019d managed to keep any sexual activities between them tamped down to nothing because of his heroin habit. According to a bit of Internet research, she supposed he could probably get hard, but the drug suppressed orgasms. At least so far, he\u2019d been much more interested in his next shot of dope and drifting into an opiate-induced dreamy void than in bothering her for sex.\r\n\r\nJaret returned his attention to the baccarat table. \u201cI\u2019ll just be over there.\u201d She pointed to a row of padded Louis Fourteenth chairs with bowed legs. Jaret nodded absently. His pupils were very small, so he was still fully under the influence of his last shot. That meant she had at least a couple of hours before he\u2019d need to leave the casino.\r\n\r\nTamara tottered to a chair on ridiculously high heels. They made her feet ache, but Jaret liked it when she dressed like a fancy woman and pleasing him was high on her list. She settled onto the plush seat and slipped her shoes off. A waiter stopped and arched an inquiring brow. Nodding pleasantly at him, she ordered club soda. Rubbing the bridge of her nose between two fingers, she made a grab for her courage. So far, her plan had gone off without a hitch. The only thing left was to finish things off.\r\n\r\nThe waiter handed her drink over, along with a bowl of salted nuts, and she set both on a nearby chair. The ebb and flow of noise in the crowded room eddied around her. A quick glance at Jaret reassured her that he was still deeply engrossed in gambling\u2014his second favorite addiction, right after heroin. He didn\u2019t care much for women, other than as window dressing and so the other men would see him as some sort of stud.\r\n\r\nTamara sipped her fizzy water and pursed her lips together. It was a long way from Dublin to Monte Carlo, and she wouldn\u2019t be here if it weren\u2019t for her sister. She bit her lower lip. Poor Moira. Dead at twenty-five. The coroner\u2019s report had listed a drug overdose as the official cause of death, but Moira hadn\u2019t been an addict. Her only crime was falling in love with Jaret Chen. Tamara had no idea how her sister actually died, but she knew in her bones that Jaret was responsible. Maybe someone had held her down while injecting enough of the crap to kill her.\r\n\r\nShe also had no idea how her sister could\u2019ve been taken in by the Asian drug cartel lead-man, but Moira had always been drawn to powerful men. It was the only explanation.\r\n\r\nShe drained half her water and chewed a handful of cashews. Their entire family had been devastated by Moira\u2019s death, particularly her da. Tamara could still see his swollen, blotchy face at the funeral as he and three of her four brothers lowered the casket into the earth. The glass in her hand made an odd noise. She set it down before she broke it by accident. Moira had been a cat shifter, just like Tamara. Why the hell hadn\u2019t she claimed her animal form and killed the son of a bitch bent over the gaming table?\r\n\r\nI\u2019ll never know.<\/em>\r\n\r\nShe unclenched her jaw before her teeth cracked. She\u2019d waited a few months so Jaret wouldn\u2019t be suspicious, and then searched him out. When he\u2019d made a comment in passing that his last girlfriend had been Irish and had the same last name, she\u2019d shrugged and blessed every goddess in the Celtic pantheon that Moira had the good sense not to tell Jaret anything about her family.\r\n\r\n\u201cMacBride\u2019s a common enough name in Scotland and Ireland,\u201d she\u2019d informed him with a coy look, before asking, \u201cWhat happened to her?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWho?\u201d He\u2019d looked the soul of innocence, the bastard.\r\n\r\n\u201cSure and you know, your last girl pal. I\u2019d hate to think she might come back to claim you.\u201d Tamara had held her breath then, torn between not wanting to hear whatever lie he came up with and being desperate for information.\r\n\r\nHe\u2019d shrugged. \u201cHard to say quite what happened. Guess she dumped me.\u201d He\u2019d made a sour face and muttered something disparaging about women under his breath.\r\n\r\nThat had been two months ago. In the intervening time, she\u2019d inveigled her way into his life. Because she was attractive, pleasant, and never made any demands\u2014easy enough since she couldn\u2019t bear the sight, or stench, of him\u2014he\u2019d allowed her into his inner circle.\r\n\r\nShe closed her teeth over her lower lip. The only thing she hadn\u2019t done was kill him. It would be easy enough. He slept like a dead thing because of his drug habit. She could do the deed and be out of their bedroom and on her way hours before anyone discovered his body. She\u2019d never formally registered as a hotel guest. Jaret had his reasons for wanting her invisible. Apparently, he\u2019d never guessed she might have her own.\r\n\r\nSo why haven\u2019t I finished this?<\/em>\r\n\r\nThe answer bubbled up, and it sickened her. Nothing in her chosen profession as a freelance photojournalist had prepared her for wholesale slaughter. She was a coward, plain and simple. Killing in her mountain lion form was one thing. It felt\u2026natural. Not that she\u2019d ever killed anything except game to eat, even shifted. To take a life, in a cold-blooded, carefully thought out manner, repelled her. She\u2019d dreamed of shoving her knife into Jaret\u2019s carotid, even circled him while he slept, blade in hand, but in the end she hadn\u2019t been able to force herself to strike.\r\n\r\nHer hands ached because she\u2019d balled them into fists. Once she uncrimped her fingers, blood welled where her nails had sliced into her palms.\r\n\r\nEither I do this thing, or I need to leave.<\/em>\r\n\r\nAn unpleasant thought surfaced. She was in so deep, he\u2019d never just let her walk away. Maybe that had been Moira\u2019s undoing. Sick to death of playing third fiddle behind Jaret\u2019s addictions, maybe her proud sister had issued an ultimatum and ended up with enough heroin in her bloodstream to kill a moose.\r\n\r\nThe more she considered it, the more certain Tamara was she\u2019d hit within spitting distance of the truth. She gazed at her lap and pulled the gaping front of her dress closer together. There wasn\u2019t any choice. Not really. He\u2019d never let her go, so she had to latch onto enough moxie to finish him off.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnother drink, mademoiselle?\u201d The waiter was back. He stared at her half-exposed breasts, a lascivious grin not far from the surface.\r\n\r\nShe nodded. \u201cScotch. Single malt. Twenty years old, or more.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cVery good, mademoiselle. Anything to go with it?\u201d\r\n\r\nWhat could she order that wouldn\u2019t blow her upset stomach story? \u201cUm, crackers, with some brie.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe waiter walked away. She stared after him. In a very distant way, he looked like the Teutonic god who\u2019d been eyeing them from across the baccarat table earlier. The tall, blond man had been broad-shouldered and slim-hipped. His eyes were a cool, icy gray, and his facial bones damn near perfect, with a square jaw and pronounced cheekbones. He hadn\u2019t smiled, but she imagined his teeth would be very straight.\r\n\r\nWhy can\u2019t I have someone like that in my life?<\/em>\r\n\r\nBecause I\u2019m a shifter, goddammit. It\u2019s a big secret to keep.<\/em>\r\n\r\nYeah, and to keep on keeping it made her weary. She\u2019d given up on a normal life when the first change came on her shortly after she hit puberty. There were laws to ensure shifters didn\u2019t get out of hand that included killing them\u2014or shipping them off to prison. It was prudent\u2014and necessary\u2014to hide what she was, rather than embrace it. Her parents, both shifters themselves, had hammered that point home until she was sick of hearing it.\r\n\r\nThe waiter had just stopped by with her drink and crackers with cheese when Jaret joined her. \u201cFeeling better, I see.\u201d He pried the glass from her hand, swallowed half its contents, and raised his eyebrows. \u201cExpensive.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI can pay for it. I still have a little money.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe rolled his eyes. \u201cNo, no. Wouldn\u2019t dream of that. You\u2019re my woman, aren\u2019t you?\u201d At her pleasant nod, he went on, \u201cI take care of my women. Good care of them. Come on.\u201d He tugged her to her feet.\r\n\r\n\u201cWait. My shoes.\u201d She bent and fished them from beneath her chair. Hanging onto him, she balanced first on one foot, then the other, while she slid her feet into the pumps. \u201cOkay.\u201d She grinned broadly. \u201cAll ready.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDo you want to bring the crackers along?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSure. Why not?\u201d She gripped the plate in one hand and curved the other around his arm. He finished her drink and steered them out of the casino toward the stairs that led to the Hotel de Paris.\r\n\r\nTonight,<\/em> she told herself. Before tonight\u2019s over, he\u2019ll be dead. Moira can rest in peace, and I\u2019ll be out of here.<\/em>\r\n\r\n ","_et_gb_content_width":""},"categories":[],"portfolio_category":[40,35,46],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/anngimpel.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/portfolio\/778"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/anngimpel.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/portfolio"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/anngimpel.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/portfolio"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/anngimpel.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/779"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/anngimpel.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=778"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/anngimpel.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=778"},{"taxonomy":"portfolio_category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/anngimpel.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fportfolio_category&post=778"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}