Page 50 of How Much For a Life of Lies?

I cursed under my breath, clenching my fist in frustration. If Thomas cracked under the pressure, it could jeopardize everything we’d worked so hard to achieve. And with Kai out there undercover, relying on Thomas to hold up his end of the bargain was a risk we couldn’t afford to take.

“What does Indigo want with him?” I asked, my voice tight with anxiety.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Ethan responded, his tone grim. “Told him she had concerns over the treatment of her guys by the sheriff. Security issues or that’s what she told him. Thomas is quietly losing his shit and is convinced that something is about to go down, and he’s not sure if he can handle the pressure.”

I swore again, the weight of the situation bearing down on me like a ton of bricks. If Indigo got wind of the fact Thomas had called us in, that he was scared for good reason, then it could spell disaster for Kai, and we needed to act fast to contain the situation before it spiraled out of control.

“Luca stays on Thomas,” Ethan said. “You brief Kai when you can. He needs to be prepared for whatever comes his way. Stay on him, Sierra Two.”

“Will do.”

The silence when Ethan ended the call was so sudden I didn’t know what to do with my anger over Thomas and fear for Kai. I needed to somehow break it all up into manageable pieces. Frustration bit—I had no way of contacting Kai to warn him of a potential fuck-up, and something was happening inside me, something dangerous. I was losing team-me because I was worrying about Kai outside of the team, and I didn’t know how to handle all the feelings I was somehow collecting. I’d fallen for the asshole with his snarky, heroic shit, and I needed to keep my head in the game before I lost focus.

I set out to walk the area’s perimeter, a tedious task but necessary to gather intel. Three hours passed in a blur as daylight broke over the horizon. I returned to the ATV with one last check of the beacon blinking where it had been all night.

By the time I returned to the rented house, I was hungry and tired, but I sent all the scans and data I’d collected to Sierra Base.

Then all I could do was wait and hope to fuck that Indigo wanting to meet with Mayor Thomas wasn’t going to wreck everything.

I hated waiting.

TWENTY

Kai

The ’korsky loomed large before us, a sleek and powerful bird ready to take unidentified cargo to an as yet unnamed location. I don’t know why Indigo was holding back on intel for a pilot she’d taken on board, and there was that niggle in my head that maybe she was testing me, and this sitting around with my thumb up my ass was going to get boring quickly. A bored Kai was an unhappy Kai—Zach’s words, not mine.

“Cargo,” Yuri said. He split from me, heading with purpose into the shadows towards the packed payload. Yuri was a man of few words and hit all the bad guy movie stereotypes. I assumed Kozlov had recruited him in their country. Or at least that was my guess, I corrected myself—Zach always said to assume was to make an ass out of you and me. Idiot. I was sure, armed with the covert surveillance and his full name, Zach could get more information on my big brooding co-pilot.

Despite the fucked-up situation that had me here, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenalin and excitement at the sight of the helicopter.

Undercover. Flying the ’korsky. Breaking the law.

Good old Dad, with his hissing and spitting about my life choices, would be so proud. Not.

I ran my gloved hand along its sturdy exterior, checking for any signs of wear or damage that might compromise our mission, and beside me, Yuri remained focused on his task, moving in silence even with his massive frame, the light glinting from the knife hung at his side. He was an unknown quantity, as was the freaking destination. I just wanted to blow this popsicle stand and get up in the air where I at least had some modicum of control.

Turning my attention to the cargo, I scrutinized each wrapped cube. It might be Yuri’s job to get things into the hold, but I was the pilot, and it was me ticking off my checklist. I knew my OCD tendencies came out when I flew, but that was what made me good. Everything needed to be secured tightly, ensuring nothing would shift or become dislodged during the flight, and Yuri didn’t complain when I double-checked his work and the weight distribution.

“Manifest weight?” I asked.

He confirmed the weight, and we exchanged glances. I searched for the lie but found nothing. I’d feel it through the cyclic if the cargo was overweight, but getting this baby off the ground safely was the hardest part. We fastened the doors. Again, I went behind him, reviewing, and then we moved on to the cockpit inspection and system checks and went through the engine start. She felt good; there were no abnormalities, no unusual sounds or vibrations.

I pulled down the mic. “Comm check,” I said, and Yuri confirmed. “Delta comm, you wanna give me a freaking destination now, or do you want me to fly around in circles?”

There was a pause, Indigo making me wait. Fuck, after we had her, I was gonna have fun making her wait for something, anything… prison time, maybe… or the barrel of my gun if she fought back. I hoped she fought back; then we could go knife on knife. Jeez, Zach would hate it getting physical. He preferred the clean bullet type of op, whereas getting in there and getting my hands dirty was my jam.

“Delta comm. I. Need. A. Destination?” I repeated and side-eyed Yuri, who stared straight ahead, chin tilted, eyes fixed, and didn’t even flinch when I poked him in the arm to get a reaction. Made of stone, clearly. I covered the mic and punched him in the arm to get his attention. “You don’t talk much.”

He faced me with that closed-off expression of his. “You talk too much,” he said in a low tone, and I clutched my chest as if I he’d wounded me. I thought I saw the hint of a smile in a quick twitch of his lips, but it was probably my imagination.

“Delta bird, your nav is live,” someone said in my ear.

I flicked up the overhead nav, and waited for the coordinates to dial in.

“Delta comm, confirmed.” With a steady hand, I gripped the cyclic, feeling the subtle resistance as I adjusted the pitch of the rotor blades. The collective responded to my touch, increasing the angle of attack to lift the helicopter off the ground. The roar of the engines filled the cockpit as we ascended, not a single shudder or wobble, and then we were still, for a moment, hovering. “Let’s do this,” I said, and then as we gained altitude, I guided the helicopter with ease, weaving through the airspace with the precision of a master craftsman.

If I said so myself.

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