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Marco turns to me, giving me a slight nod.
“One.”
He winks, and I realize he’s got something planned. He glances across at the pilot, wobbling his knee, and I get it at once.
“Two.”
I kick up with my foot. The tip of my toe catches the pilot’s arm, sending it sideways. He fires the gun; the bullet missing Marco by inches, vanishing out the open door. The pilot goes to shoot again, but Marco’s already on him.
I can’t hear the pilot’s arm snap in two, but I can see it happening, a bend appearing where it has no right to be. The pilot roars in pain, his gun dropping from his grip.
Marco leans past him, unclipping the belt holding him in place.
I reach down and get hold of the gun. I want to shoot, but the two of them are wrestling back and forth and I might hit Marco.
The helicopter spins out of control, spiraling down through the air, alarms beeping all around me.
The gun flies out of my hand. The pilot is crashing around the cabin, as is Marco, all fists flying.
The two of them slip toward the open door. Marco is sliding out into nothingness. I reach for him, but there’s no need. He’s already got his arm looped around the safety belt beside me. He holds himself in place as he lashes out a kick at the pilot, who’s still scrambling for the gun.
The helicopter spins faster, making it impossible to work out what’s going on.
I look their way as best I can. Marco is flailing in place, his limbs flying. The pilot is landing one punch after another into his midriff, but it’s like Marco is made of rock. He doesn’t even flinch. He looks at the pilot and then, with one swift motion, boots him in the middle of the chest.
The pilot slips backward, spying the gun. It’s reaching for it that’s his undoing. As he leans down, he’s off balance.
Marco lands a firm kick on his shoulder and the pilot flies out of the open door, his scream loud in my headset as he vanishes from sight. The ground is terrifying close. Another few seconds and we’ll be as dead as the pilot.
“Hold on,” Marco says, climbing through to the front, grabbing hold of the stick and bringing us out of a tailspin with only twenty feet to spare before we hit the ground. He raises us higher, bringing us level as I take the first breath in what feels like hours.
“You okay?” he asks, strapping himself into the seat, glancing back at me a moment later. “You hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I reply. “You can fly this thing?”
“A little rusty, but we’ll be all right. I’m going to skip the restaurant and get us back.”
“Who was that?”
“Hired goon. I recognized the voice. He was dressed as a cop back at the fire, told me this could have been avoided if I’d taken Piper’s deal. Guess Piper paid him to take me out. He was good too. Good enough to kill my pilot and take his place. You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. You were the one getting punched left, right and center.”
“Nothing I haven’t had many times before.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring.”
He looks out the front as I wait for my heart to slow down. “You did good,” he says a few minutes later. “You got my signal, I mean. About kicking him.”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d get you shot for trying.”
“Worth the risk. It was that or definitely get shot. Bad odds are always better than zero odds.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. How come he didn’t just shoot you before we took off?”
“I’m guessing he had orders to take me out to sea. Or your father wanted to scare the shit out of you so you’d marry Carlos.”
“My father really is an asshole, isn’t he?”
