guard had been, but Kathryn clearly caught sight of two delicate white fangs. “It never hurts to try,” she said.
“Understood,” Kathryn agreed.
Magda pulled a cell phone from her pocket and hit a number. “Agent Hunter is here,” she told someone, then disconnected and slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Lord Donlon will see you now.”
* * * *
Kathryn followed Magda Turkova out of the comfortable living room and down a long, tile-floored hallway. Turkova’s high heels tapped loudly on the hard surface, and all Kathryn could think of was how cold these floors must be in winter. This was South Dakota , after all. She’d never lived in any of the truly cold states, but she saw the weather reports like everyone else, and South Dakota was usually buried in snow for months at a time. The heating bill for this house must be cosmic. But she supposed if you could afford a place like this on a ranch this big, then you didn’t worry much about heating bills.
Turkova’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the ID and scowled, but she answered before it rang a second time.
“ Magda .” She listened, then said, “Yes.”
And that was it. Kathryn figured it was Donlon calling, maybe asking if they were on their way or something. Maybe he was anxious to get the interview over with and return to his vampire business, whatever that was. Actually, her data run on Donlon had listed considerable financial holdings, but everything was owned under his corporate identity of Donlon Inc. It was a private corporation, which meant he wasn’t required to make the details of his holdings and/or earnings public unless he wanted to. And he clearly didn’t want to. Usually, even private corporations made some things public—charitable stuff that was good for their public image, or information they intentionally let slip to influence a particular business transaction. And sometimes political donations were revealed, when it served their corporate interests. But Donlon didn’t seem to care about any of that. She hadn’t been able to find a single article on him or his corporation, not in the major journals, not even in the local newspaper.
Kathryn and Turkova were met halfway down the corridor by what she took to be another gatekeeper. Male, presumably a vampire, six-foot-three, blond and brown, big shoulders and arms, so probably two twenty-five or more in weight. He was good-looking in an all-American football captain sort of way and gave her an openly friendly smile before stopping them in front of a pair of big wooden doors with iron belting.
“I’ll take it from here, Magda ,” he said, as if he was the one in charge. “Agent Hunter,” he said, turning his attention Kathryn. “My name is Nicholas. Lord Donlon is waiting, if you’re ready?”
Kathryn scowled inwardly at the use of the honorific for Donlon , but outwardly she only nodded briskly and said, “Yes, thank you.” Unfailingly polite and professional, that’s what the FBI expected of their agents.
Nicholas opened the door. Kathryn started to step forward, but stopped in surprise when he strode in ahead of her. It threw her off enough that she paused on the threshold until Magda made an impatient noise behind her.
Kathryn continued into the room, her gaze sweeping the space, cataloging everything she saw. It wasn’t quite what she’d expected, but then so far, nothing about this vampire’s lair had been. The room was big and airy, very masculine, but tasteful, with a grouping of dark leather furniture to one side, in front of an even darker row of wooden bookshelves that lined the entire length of one wall. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall, with a carved wooden mantle, and above that a beautiful oil painting depicting moonrise over what she assumed was the nearby Badlands, although it could just as easily have been Monument Valley in Arizona or another similar desert setting. She wasn’t that familiar with any of them. But the artist had
“Understood,” Kathryn agreed.
Magda pulled a cell phone from her pocket and hit a number. “Agent Hunter is here,” she told someone, then disconnected and slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Lord Donlon will see you now.”
* * * *
Kathryn followed Magda Turkova out of the comfortable living room and down a long, tile-floored hallway. Turkova’s high heels tapped loudly on the hard surface, and all Kathryn could think of was how cold these floors must be in winter. This was South Dakota , after all. She’d never lived in any of the truly cold states, but she saw the weather reports like everyone else, and South Dakota was usually buried in snow for months at a time. The heating bill for this house must be cosmic. But she supposed if you could afford a place like this on a ranch this big, then you didn’t worry much about heating bills.
Turkova’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the ID and scowled, but she answered before it rang a second time.
“ Magda .” She listened, then said, “Yes.”
And that was it. Kathryn figured it was Donlon calling, maybe asking if they were on their way or something. Maybe he was anxious to get the interview over with and return to his vampire business, whatever that was. Actually, her data run on Donlon had listed considerable financial holdings, but everything was owned under his corporate identity of Donlon Inc. It was a private corporation, which meant he wasn’t required to make the details of his holdings and/or earnings public unless he wanted to. And he clearly didn’t want to. Usually, even private corporations made some things public—charitable stuff that was good for their public image, or information they intentionally let slip to influence a particular business transaction. And sometimes political donations were revealed, when it served their corporate interests. But Donlon didn’t seem to care about any of that. She hadn’t been able to find a single article on him or his corporation, not in the major journals, not even in the local newspaper.
Kathryn and Turkova were met halfway down the corridor by what she took to be another gatekeeper. Male, presumably a vampire, six-foot-three, blond and brown, big shoulders and arms, so probably two twenty-five or more in weight. He was good-looking in an all-American football captain sort of way and gave her an openly friendly smile before stopping them in front of a pair of big wooden doors with iron belting.
“I’ll take it from here, Magda ,” he said, as if he was the one in charge. “Agent Hunter,” he said, turning his attention Kathryn. “My name is Nicholas. Lord Donlon is waiting, if you’re ready?”
Kathryn scowled inwardly at the use of the honorific for Donlon , but outwardly she only nodded briskly and said, “Yes, thank you.” Unfailingly polite and professional, that’s what the FBI expected of their agents.
Nicholas opened the door. Kathryn started to step forward, but stopped in surprise when he strode in ahead of her. It threw her off enough that she paused on the threshold until Magda made an impatient noise behind her.
Kathryn continued into the room, her gaze sweeping the space, cataloging everything she saw. It wasn’t quite what she’d expected, but then so far, nothing about this vampire’s lair had been. The room was big and airy, very masculine, but tasteful, with a grouping of dark leather furniture to one side, in front of an even darker row of wooden bookshelves that lined the entire length of one wall. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall, with a carved wooden mantle, and above that a beautiful oil painting depicting moonrise over what she assumed was the nearby Badlands, although it could just as easily have been Monument Valley in Arizona or another similar desert setting. She wasn’t that familiar with any of them. But the artist had
Similar Books
