Whiteout (Aurora Sky (9 page)

“We can still attempt to get in touch with Noel and Sergea
nt Holmes,” I said. “At least give it a try before we go offering ourselves up to Melcher in surrender.”

Dante shot to his feet. The firelight accentuated his sudden rage. “I would never surrender. It is a tactical move. One worth considering if you're ser
ious about going after Melcher and Jared.”

The wood floor groaned beneath Dante's rough steps through the lobby.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

The echo of footsteps was the immediate reply. I thought Dante would ignore me altogether, but before he exited
the lobby, he said, “To see if Giselle has found anything useful inside the shed.”

Tommy, noticing that Dante was headed for the front door, hurried to his side. They stepped out together, leaving me alone in front of the fire.

Talk about hitting an all-
time low. Dante would rather spend time with Giselle than me. The three of us made a terrible team. Giselle only wanted revenge. While Dante wanted an agency overhaul as much as I, it was more out of desire to continue doing what he did best. Killing vampi
res. His own kind.

Then again, I had an ulterior motive too. I might not feel as gun
g
-ho about tackling a corrupt
government
agency if it weren't for Fane. Until we dealt with Melcher and Jared, it wasn't safe to be together.

Fane had once said that we nee
ded to remove the
ringleader
. He was right, of course. The question was
:
how?

 

 

 7

Battle Attire

 

{Fane}

 

The rumble and roar of passenger jets and FedEx carriers echoed overhead. It was a clear day. Sunny. Cold.

Standing outside a
fixed-base ope
ra
tor on
the south end of the airport, I took long, measured drags off my cigarette, b
lowing clouds into the crisp air
. Nicotine couldn't harm me. Unfortunately, it didn't provide a buzz either. I really should quit before my teeth turned yellow. I would a
s soon as I found Aurora. After that I'd chuck the smokes for good.

I thought about Aurora
24/7
, as the saying went, but never so much as when I was outside.

Had she found shelter? Was she warm enough?

Vampirism was still so new to her. Letting go of engra
ined human sensations such as hunger and cold were challenging with the mind
incessantly
playing tricks.

In the distance, a jet landed. Could be the one I was waiting for. The time was about right.

A woman named Mia had texted me the details of the flight from Venice to Anchorage. One of my cousins would arrive shortly after
11
:00
a.m. in the family's private Gulfstream G200. The luxury jet could go nonstop from one end of the continent to the other
before needing to fuel up. Good thing too. The sooner reinforcements arrived, the better.

Mia had identified herself as my cousin's personal assistant, but failed to mention which particular cousin she worked for. My money was on Giovanni. He kept in touch
regularly and had been the most involved in coming up with a diplomatic solution to the problem of the agency—more specifically, the vampire who called himself Melcher.

As I finished my cigarette, a sleek m
idsize jet taxied up to the FBO. I walked alongsi
de it as it pulled into an open
hangar
and came to a stop.
The plane was a beauty. I had a sudden urge to take her up on a test
flight
. The same kind of excitement came over me whenever I came face to face with a new toy. Anything that moved fast was fair
game, as was anything belonging to the family. What was theirs was mine and vice versa.

The hatch door opened, not far from the ground. Stairs were conveniently
built
into the opposite side of the door, descending from the cabin.

I waited on the tarmac, ex
pecting Giovanni or Raffaele to emerge from the plane. Instead, a young man wearing a gaudy teal
-
and
-
gold waistcoat coat with matching pants stuck his head out of the cabin and straightened. Cousin Alfonso.

A full row of white teeth appeared when he saw me
. Alfonso's face crinkled in mirth. He had the kind of two-hundred-twenty
-
volt smile that caused hearts to explode back home.

“Francesco!
Buongiorno
!
” He lifted his arm in the air, waving with his fingers.

I lifted my hand and walked toward the plane as Al
fonso descended. My cousin stood six
feet
tall with stylishly
tousled
dark brown hair. He could be a model if he wanted, though he had no need of the income or extra attention. Journalists loved snapping shots of Alfonso at all the top fashion shows and A-
list parties he frequented across Europe.

Out of all my family, he was the last person I expected to step a polished shoe into the Last Frontier.

I reached the stairs as Alfonso stepped down. We grasped one another by the shoulders and kissed cheeks.

“
Buo
ngiorno
, Alfonso,” I said. Italian rolled off my tongue like a long
-
lost lullaby. “Did you lose a bet with Giovanni?” I teased in our native tongue.

The laugh lines in Alfonso's cheeks deepened. “Isabella caught Giovanni with her friend Leticia. Now he fea
r
s
she will harm herself.”

“And Raffaele?”

“In
amore
, like you.” Alfonso winked. “Don't
worry. I volunteer
ed
. We will find your
bella rosa
, free your friend, and squash the tyrant who dares stand in the way of a Donado.”

With the stairs now clear, a young
woman in a pantsuit stepped out of the plane, followed by a short gentleman with a full head of white hair
slicked
back, and a middle-aged man with tan skin and only slightly darker hair.

As they reached the tarmac, Alfonso made quick introductions.

“Mia,
my assistant and personal planner.” The young woman had stunning light brown eyes, accented by black liner and mascara. Her sleek brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Her gaping blouse revealed a glimpse of a set of well-curved double Ds. She had
the whole sexy secretary look down
—
if secretaries could afford a three
-
thousand
-
dollar tailored suit. We kissed cheeks.

“Artur, my
tailor
, and Benito, my pilot and driver,” Alfonso continued. “Come.” He clapped. “We have an appointment with the
senator
in
two hours, but first I must refresh.”

“The car is this way,” Mia said. Her
shapely
ass glided forward as she took the lead.

I'd fixed the tires on the Pontiac following Valerie's slash and dash, but
I
knew nothing in the world would convince my cousin Alfo
nso to set so much as a manicured toenail inside the old beater. It would have been the same with Giovanni and Raffaele. This generation of Donados
was
suave to the extreme. But they were family and that's all that mattered.

“We have missed you, Francesco,
” Alfonso said, as though picking up on my nostalgia. “The family wishes you to return home.”

“Once Aurora and Joss are safe, I will return to visit
. P
erhaps an extended stay this time.”

The smile had not left Alfonso's lips. “Then we must rescue your frie
nds as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure you are ready for this?” I asked.

My cousin's eyes gli
ttered. He was more of a great-great-great-great-
great
-
nephew, but once those nephews looked my age or older, we switched to calling each other “cousin
.
”

“Cousin
,” Alfonso said now
,
“
you
may recall that Alfonso comes from the German name Alphonse, which means ‘prepared for battle
.
' The senator has accepted our money and now he must accept our terms.
C
osì è la vita
.”

We followed Mia through a small terminal, out
the double
doors, to a Mercedes sedan parked and
already
running at the curbside. Alfonso's driver,
Benito, opened the back door.

“After you,
cousin
,” Alfonso said.

“Artur and I will follow with the luggage,” Mia said.

Alfonso kissed her cheek. “
Splendido
,” he replied before dipping into the car after me.

Alfonso might not be as diplomatic as Giovanni or as business savvy as Raffaele, but the man had a way with people, including politicians.