“My brother has a helicopter. It is old, but it flies. You could buy.”
The three men spun back to face the pilot.
Zak narrowed his eyes. “Couldn’t you have mentioned that in the first place?”
“He is very poor.”
Snow fell, landing in cold whispers on Harper’s shoulders.
Fox sucked air through his teeth. “How much?”
“Thirty thousand US dollar.”
“Whoa,” Zak muttered under his breath.
“He has six children. And a wife.” The pilot shrugged. “Very expensive.” He waved a hand at the empty airfield and swirling snow. “Very good price in current market.”
Harper wrapped her arms around herself against the cold. “Thom, I can?—”
Fox held up his hand and gave a clipped shake of his head. “I’ve got this.” His hands went to his wrist, and he unbuckled his watch—a Rolex, silver and black, likely costing more than most people made in a year—and held it out.
The pilot took it and lifted it to the watery light of the storm. He turned it over, and his mouth curved, a gold tooth flashing. “Very nice.” He pocketed it and beckoned. “Very good. Come.”
He headed toward the hangar, his feet crunching on old ice under the snow.
“Wait here.” Harper pressed Polina’s shoulder and followed.
The hangar access door screeched open on rusted rails. The pilot stepped inside and yanked a chain. A single bulb flickered to life overhead, making shadows lurch across the space.
The helicopter sat on a rusted tow platform, maintenance panels hanging open along one side.
Jesus.
Oil streaked the body in black rivers. The rotor blades didn’t even match—one darker, chewed up along the edges. Metal patches scarred the rear, bolted on as if someone had fixed it with whatever they could find. The windshield was filthy with grime.
“That thing flies?” Zak halted, eyebrows high.
“It did last month.” The pilot patted the nose and flashed his gold tooth again. “Very comfortable. Seats four.”
Zak fired Fox a side-eye. “We paid thirty thousand for this piece of shit?”
“We didn’t have a choice.” Fox paced around the helicopter, shooting Zak a narrow look.
“We absolutely had a choice.” Zak’s voice climbed. “The choice was asking to see it first.”
Pav walked past Harper without a word, circling the helicopter. His hands moved over panels, checking bolts, the tail. His face was unreadable—just cold assessment.
Finally, he came to a stop and looked back at Fox. “It’ll fly.”
He sounded certain in the worst possible way—like he knew exactly what could go wrong and had already decided it was survivable.
Harper’s throat closed.
Fox turned to her. “Harper. It’s your call. Who goes where?”
Okay. She exhaled.Doctor mode.
“Sasha’s been shot, she’ll need monitoring. She needs to come with me.”
