Alex's Atonement (Midnight Sons Book 2)

  Alex’s Atonement

  Midnight Sons – Book Two

  Carmen DeSousa

  A Romantic Suspense Series

  Alex’s Atonement

  A Midnight Sons Novel

  Copyright© 2019 by Carmen DeSousa

  ISBN: 9781945143564

  www.CarmenDeSousaBooks.com

  www.WrittenMusings.com

  Cover Design: www.AustinWalp.com

  U.S.A.

  This is a fictional work. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are solely the concepts and products of the author’s imagination or are used to create a fictitious story and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, without the prior permission in writing, except in the case of brief quotations, reviews, and articles.

  For any other permission, please visit www.WrittenMusings.com for contact links.

  The Midnight Sons

  Men as Wild and Rugged as The Last Frontier Itself

  Five brothers risk their lives to rescue those caught in the death grip of the Alaska wilderness … and risk losing their hearts to women as tough as the Land of the Midnight Sun.

  Midnight Sons

  The siren call of Alaska’s untamed wilderness draws thrill-seekers from around the globe. But with more unsolved missing-person cases than anywhere else in the world, the Alaska Triangle has an ominous reputation. Enter SAR Team Alaska, five brothers who risk their lives to rescue those in peril.

  Being a hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, though. The pay sucks, as does the fact that the team leaders have to be ready to spring into action 24/7, 365 days a year — a lifestyle not conducive to a healthy love life. Worse, while the brothers are experts in their individual fields, they each harbor inner demons and secrets that threaten to tear their family apart … and jeopardize any chance of finding the women who could complete them.

  Chapter 1

  ~ Alex ~

  Alex watched his brother Sam stroll toward the elevator with his bride. The newly wedded couple giggled and snuggled as they tottered inside. Sam had lifted his champagne flute a few too many times in response to umpteen toasts. But he was in his wife’s arms. No condemnation. No fears.

  Sam and Nora had each other, and that was all that mattered. For the time being, Nora’s troubled past didn’t matter, and their family’s struggling business wasn’t a concern. And after a night of bliss in their newlywed suite, they’d take off for their two-week honeymoon in Argentina.

  Alex hadn’t even felt the familiar waves of animosity from his brother that usually hovered over them like dense Denali cloud cover. He had been shocked that Sam had asked him to be his best man. Had Sam finally stopped blaming him for their father’s death? About the part Alex had played?

  Didn’t matter. Even if Alex couldn’t admit it to anyone, he knew the truth. His soul suffered daily from his actions. If it hadn’t been for his immaturity, he wouldn’t have forgotten his critical gear, and his father wouldn’t have insisted that Alex take his ice ax. And his father, one of the greatest men who’d ever walked the earth, wouldn’t have died in the avalanche. No, Alex would have died instead.

  Alex had cheated death. Because his father had been a better man than he was, Alex had lived.

  He exhaled loudly, his breath steaming up the window of the hotel bar. Outside, across the frozen lake, sat a row of seaplanes. One of them was his. Tomorrow, he’d set things right. For Sam, for his family … for his father.

  He’d had to wait two long years after he’d taken out the life insurance policy, after the company’s contestability period. Even though he was certain his death would look like an accident, he couldn’t take any chances that Sam wouldn’t receive the nearly two-million-dollar policy — 1.8 million, to be exact. The company had maxed out his policy at thirty times his annual salary.

  Nora showing up in their lives had delayed his plans another eight months. But it was for the best, and a part of him felt better that she was in Sam’s life — and his mother’s life.

  He’d taken care of every contingency. He’d written a will, leaving everything to Sam, so the proceeds wouldn’t end up in probate. His life wasn’t worth much, but what he did have would assure that the Midnight Sons would continue saving lives long after his death. And wasn’t that what made a man a hero … the willingness to lay down his life for others? In a sense, his death would save others by saving the company that saved so many people every year.

  “Beautiful in a weird kind of way, isn’t it?” The woman’s voice that came from behind him was low and raspy, almost secretive.

  Had he spoken his plans aloud, initiating her odd question?

  Alex turned to take in the woman, ready to defend his actions. Others wouldn’t understand his decision, he knew. Wouldn’t understand that every night when he tried to sleep he saw his father smothered to death by snow … and knew that he’d been responsible. He’d spent the last ten years drowning himself in carnal pleasures, anything to take away the nightmare he relived nightly. Nothing had worked.

  To his surprise, the female voice belonged to the auburn-haired beauty who’d been sitting in the back row at his brother’s wedding. They’d shared a moment together from across the room, but when he’d looked for her at the reception, he hadn’t been able to find her. He’d been tempted to look for a glass slipper, wondering why the mystery woman had disappeared. Now, here she stood.

  He cocked his head, wondering why she was here now. Promptly at midnight, right after the open bar closed, all the guests from the wedding reception had staggered to their rooms. Sam and Nora were the last to leave. Most of his family’s friends were first responders, so they had to make the drive back to Falcon Run early tomorrow.

  “Excuse me?” he said, ready to tell her that what he did with his life was none of her business. Yeah, she looked good, but he’d already decided that he wouldn’t ruin Sam’s night by seducing one of the women at his wedding party.

  The woman waved her hand at the glass windows. “The snow blankets even the ugliest trash and somehow makes it beautiful.”

  “Oh, yeah … I agree,” he said, shaking off his unfounded irritation. “It is beautiful in a weird kind of way. A little cold for my taste, but that’s one of the downsides of living in Alaska. You have to deal with six months of dark and bitter cold to appreciate nearly round-the-clock sunshine during the remaining six months.”

  The woman strolled past him, leaving a hint of vanilla in her wake. She approached the bank of windows that surrounded the closed bar & grill. Her slender fingers splayed against the glass, the heat of her hands causing an immediate reaction on the icy pane. “Winter or summer, I never used to appreciate the beauty. I couldn’t wait to escape.”

  Alex scrubbed at his five o’clock shadow and closed his eyes. The look the woman had flashed him earlier at the wedding had been an invitation if he ever saw one. And he’d seen plenty. Not tonight, he reminded himself. Why not? insisted his less-noble self. She’s not Evie. You don’t even know her. Sam’s night is over. Why shouldn’t you have one final fling?

  He shook his head at his crazy thoughts but found he wanted to listen to them. After all, what difference did it make? He had lived a high-octane life. If he was going to go down in flames, might as well enjoy his last night. Without his permission, his legs propelled him toward the glass wall, to the beautiful woman.

  Her auburn hair was a little shorter than he preferred, but it suited her. Her b
ody, while shapely, was a tad skinny. He’d always preferred athletic types. Still, she was a woman, and he loved women. He hoped whatever realm he ended up in tomorrow had women. He couldn’t imagine spending eternity without a soft body next to him.

  He stepped next to the woman, but his eyes remained focused on the line of seaplanes again. Actually, as she’d indicated, all he really saw was the snow as it fell beneath the lights of the marina, and the outline of the seaplanes swathed in a blanket of white. “Ever been on a seaplane?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  Not many women had answered yes to that question. One of his best pickup lines was relating to a woman that he was a pilot. He wasn’t sure why, but most women cooed at the idea of him taking them up in one of his three aircrafts. Technically, the airplanes and helicopter weren’t his; they belonged to the family business.

  He lowered his head to take in the woman up close. She was a good head shorter than his six-two. Petite and delicate. Even her skin looked so pale and soft that he feared she might shatter if he touched her. Her auburn hair was what initially caught his eye. The color reminded him of Alaska blueberry leaves, right before the season ended. When the fruit was the sweetest, the leaves turned to a dark reddish brown. The way her dark hair contrasted with her light skin made his hands ache to touch her. He imagined running his fingers through the loose waves.

  Give it a rest, he ordered his libido again. Instead of fantasizing about how silky her skin would feel against his, he moistened his dry lips. “So, you’re from here?”

  She pointed southwest. “Saint Paul Island.”

  “You’re kidding!” The burst of laughter that escaped his throat snapped him out of his meandering fantasies. And based on her furrowed brows, if she’d been fantasizing about him, she’d stopped the moment he’d lost all sense of decorum by guffawing at her answer.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “I’m sorry. That was rude.” He pinched his temple. “I don’t know why I found that so funny. Maybe because, like … what, five hundred people live there? And most are native, right? Honestly, I thought only Aleuts and fur seals lived on Saint Paul Island.”

  She twisted her mouth and shook her head. “Yes, fur seals definitely dominate the beaches. Not all the human population is Aleut, though, obviously. But as I said, I couldn’t wait to leave. I think the hottest it ever got in the summer was sixty. And the winters are brutal.”

  Alex forced a smile, the one his mother had always claimed would get him anything he wanted. “Again, sorry. I’m a bit slaphappy. It’s been a long day. Also, one of the things I noticed about Alaska is that practically no one is from here — except my family, it seems — so I definitely didn’t expect you to say Saint Paul Island. Is that why you’re in Anchorage, are you running away from home?” He flashed another smile, hoping the crease between her brows would let up.

  The woman’s lips quirked upward, but then she closed her eyes, shaking her head again. “No, I left for college seventeen years ago and never looked back. Oddly enough, I ended up in San Francisco. Fog City, as I call it. Imagine my surprise when I ended up in a city with year-round temps like the summers on Saint Paul Island. Whereas most can’t take the daily fog and damp weather of San Fran, it reminded me of home, only without the negative-zero winters.”

  “I’ve never been to San Francisco.” He’d always wanted to go to California, but now he never would. He shrugged off his pathetic thoughts and focused on her. “So, you’re going home? Booked a ride on one of those seaplanes, I take it?”

  Her lips twisted again. “Yeah … something like that. I doubt I’ll stay long, though.”

  Seemed there was more to this woman’s story, but as much as he’d like to get to know her, he couldn’t. No strings. No attachments. He’d had to live by that motto ever since he decided his fate. Still, a name wouldn’t hurt. It’d be nice to talk to someone, since he knew there was no chance he’d be able to sleep tonight.

  He extended his hand. “I’m Alex.”

  The woman’s hazel eyes held his. The brownish-red color closest to the irises nearly matched her hair. She smiled but didn’t accept his hand. “I already knew your name, Alex. The maid of honor whispered it to me, along with a couple other tidbits.”

  He’d forgotten that Evie had bent down and whispered something in her ear. Since the woman wasn’t going to take his hand, he dropped it. “What tidbits did she mention? Nothing bad, I hope.”

  The woman shrugged. “Bad is relative. I don’t judge insider information as good or bad. I prefer to take the info and figure out the facts myself.”

  He raised the hand she’d rejected. “Hmm … maybe I’m better off not knowing what Evie said. I would like to know your name, though.”

  A smile tugged up those apricot-stained lips. “Irene.”

  “Irene,” he heard himself whisper back. Damn, why was he letting this woman intrigue him?

  Irene turned from the window, strolling toward the row of high-top tables that lined the seldom-used dance floor. Even in season, most people just drank, watched sports, and of course, watched the outside show. The bar overlooked Lake Hood, the world’s busiest seaplane base. Often, after a rescue, he’d end up at the bar … and then the hotel when he’d downed one too many drafts.

  She kicked off her shoes and tossed a look over her shoulder. “Don’t they play music here? It’s only midnight, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Not in January.” For no reason he could fathom, he found himself following her. “I think my brother’s wedding is the only reason the hotel’s nearly full.”

  Irene toured the wood floor, stopping and spinning every few feet. “I want to dance.” She pulled out her phone, tapped on a few keys. An Abba song started. She set the phone on one of the high tops, then reached for his hand. “Dance with me, Alex.”

  “Here?” He didn’t dance. Not anywhere. With his trim frame and long legs, he always felt like a daddy long legs springing across the floor. Sam was the dancer. Even in high school, Sam would cut loose on the back of his pickup. The girls loved it.

  She tugged on his arm. “Why not here? No one can see us.”

  He spied the doors that led to the lobby. “I don’t know how to dance.”

  “Everyone knows how to dance. It’s as natural as walking.” When he didn’t budge, she released his hand and planted her fists on her hips. “Life’s too short not to dance, Alex.” Instead of continuing to coax him, she twirled away as if she were the dancing queen looking for her king.

  Her comment stabbed him deeply. Life was too short. His would be shorter than many. Why shouldn’t he dance? He tentatively stepped on the floor as Dancing Queen streamed from the woman’s phone. He’d never hear the end of it if his brothers or any of the first responders saw him dancing to Dancing Queen, of all things. Hell, after tomorrow morning, he’d never see them again, so what did it matter?

  Nothing mattered anymore. Life was too short. Maybe spending his last night dancing would give this stranger something to smile about in the future. If she read about his death, she might say something like: He didn’t seem suicidal. He danced with me …

  After all, he wasn’t suicidal. Not in the least. The last thing he wanted was to die. He was just setting right a wrong. Maybe if Irene told his mother and brothers he’d been dancing with her the night before his death, they’d know he’d been happy. Maybe they would assume he’d just crashed accidentally. And if they did suspect anything, hopefully, they’d know that what he’d done, he’d done for them.

  ~ Irene ~

  A haptic tap from her iWatch woke Irene with a start. Her eyes snapped open.

  The alarm. The chartered plane.

  She hadn’t had to set the alarm in so long that the old familiar warning surprised her. She hadn’t been on a schedule for nearly a year. Not since her surgery.

  She blinked, trying to make out her surroundings. A streak of light streaming through the hotel curtains slashed a bare back. Alex Belgarde. A pilot.

&nbs
p; Why was that so damn sexy?

  Who was she kidding? When she’d spotted Alex the previous evening, she wouldn’t have cared if he were an out-of-work deadbeat. She’d wanted him the moment she’d seen him standing at the front of the room as best man. He’d been staring out the windows as if he’d wanted to be anywhere other than where he was. Then, when the preacher asked for the ring, and the groom had turned to Alex with a look of fear, she’d found herself laughing for the first time in months.

  Their eyes had met. She’d done her utmost to convey in those few seconds that she found him attractive. He’d shrugged off her laugh and returned her smile.

  She’d flown into Anchorage the day before yesterday, and after she’d found a pilot who was willing to fly her to the island of her birth, she’d gone looking for fun. Except nothing had been going on at the hotel. The online pics she’d seen when she reserved the room had made the place look so lively. Supposedly, the hotel sat next to the most extensive collection of seaplanes in the world — and the website had boasted that the planes ran year-round. She hadn’t hesitated to reserve a room. But then, nothing had been happening inside the lounge, and it was too freaking cold to leave the property.

  Just as she’d been heading to her room, she’d heard the Wagner’s Bridal Chorus streaming from the banquet room and decided to mark off one of her bucket-list items. Never in her life had she crashed a wedding.

  She stretched her arm up, blinked a couple times to clear her mascara-caked eyes, and focused on the time. Five a.m.

  Her gaze roamed over Alex, at the blanket that lay across his hips. As tempting as Alex looked, she didn’t have time to wake him up for round two. ’Course, he had said he was a pilot, so maybe she could ask him to take her to Saint Paul Island.

  No, if he’d wanted to take her, he would have offered. The last thing she planned to do with the rest of her short life was to chase anything. Not a career. Not a man.

  She’d decided six months ago that she wouldn’t waste one minute of her precious life. That was the only reason she was in Alaska. She’d lost too many hours — years — being angry. If she couldn’t forgive and forget — and be forgiven — fine, but at least she would try. That way she wouldn’t waste another minute thinking about the past.