Rising Hope by Edie James

7

Enzo spooledthe engine up for takeoff. The Russians watched from a safe distance, fingers on the triggers of their guns. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on the takeoff procedures, trying to ignore the possibility that they might get shot out of the sky.

Blowing them up with half a million in drugs onboard didn’t make any sense, but five minutes with these characters convinced him they operated more on impulse and bravado than smarts.

He was completely over the idiotic assignment. The subterfuge—and the threat of getting shot at any moment at the whim of a Russian gangster—dissolved the pleasure of piloting a top-of the-line airframe.

His heartbeat didn’t return to normal until he flew the helo past the ridge, out of Ulrich’s line of fire. Once safe, he could finally enjoy piloting the sweet aircraft. The controls were ultra responsive, the adjustments crisp and precise. More sports car than workhorse, the pretty bird wouldn’t stand up to the kind of abuse the Guard’s trusty Dolphins endured, but it sure was fun flying her.

Might as well get some enjoyment out of this bizarre assignment. He checked the radar before taking the aircraft up another five hundred feet, allowing for plenty of clearance as they buzzed up over the ridge. The ocean glittered under a hot October sun, a bright ribbon between the blue sky and the faded yellow of the dry landscape.

He could feel Sarah eyeing him.

“Nice job spotting that tracker,” she said.

The unexpected praise surprised him. He eased back on the collective to level off their flight and acknowledged her compliment with a quick nod. “Just doing my job.”

She smiled softly. “Not the job you signed up for.”

“Not even close.”

She shifted in her seat, turning toward him as much as her restraints allowed. The black headphones looked way too big for her delicate face. “How’d you end up with this gig?”

“Is it that obvious I’m not cut out to be undercover?”

“Pretty much. That’s a good thing,” she added quickly.

Intrigued, despite himself, he had to ask. “Because?”

“We get way too comfortable with the lies. A necessary evil, but it changes you.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t change back.”

She smiled, but it held way too much sadness for his liking. “I don’t think it works like that.”

Ever since they got airborne, she’d changed, shedding the brittle, hard-driving persona. Peaches Duvall wasn’t his type, but Sarah Walker, he might manage to get along with.

“The last pilot was Coast Guard, too,” she said. “Did he recruit you?”

Enzo shook his head as he eyed the rocky ridge line five hundred feet below. “Halliburton’s not exactly an open book. I have no idea who the other pilot was. Whoever he was, he’s not stationed in The Cove. I know everyone at Station Piedras Bay.”

She wrinkled her nose. The movement smoothed the hard lines around her mouth, making her look girlish. Sweet. “Then how did you get dragged into this? The FBI and the NSA don’t exactly advertise.”

“My CO recommended me.”

“I’m guessing you could have declined the assignment.”

“Sure. But apparently they didn’t have another aviator ready to go. They made it clear the mission would be delayed if I didn’t agree.”

“Appealed to your sense of duty. Smart.” She muttered, her voice barely carrying over the noise of the rotors. “So they didn’t give you much of a choice.”

“How about you?”

She paused so long, he wasn’t sure she was going to answer. Finally, she shrugged. “Same deal. They made it impossible to refuse.”

Between the headphones and the ambient noise, it was hard to interpret her tone, but it didn’t sound like she thought having a sense of duty was an admirable thing.

Whatever. He’d met people like her before. Lots of them. Cynical. Distrusting.

He felt bad for them. “If the next team handles the drugs, what do you do between buys?”

“Act like an upscale drug dealer.”

Anger seared his gut. “You actually sell this stuff? Halliburton told me—”

She cut him off. “I’m a law enforcement officer. Of course, I don’t sell drugs. I said I act like I do. Big diff.”

Relief flooded him, quickly followed by sheer puzzlement. “Act like a drug dealer? What does that even mean?”

“I flash a lot of cash around town. Hit all the right parties. Mostly just see and be seen. Whatever I have to do to maintain my cover in case the Tambov Roka baddies ask around about me. Pretty standard stuff.”

Not in his world. “Do you live in The Cove?”

“Two blocks up from you.”

He must have looked horrified, because she laughed. “I’m joking. Your neighborhood’s not high-end enough. I’m in a rental at the top of the Terraces.”

Right. That made sense. The Terraces was a new development just north of town. An ugly collection of oversized McMansions crammed into a steep hillside, the glitzy neighborhood was as out of place as a pimple on a supermodel’s cheek.

In preparation for landing, he made a gradual, banking turn. “Hang on. The closer we get to the hillside, the more turbulence we’ll experience.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when the helicopter shuddered, before plunging downward like a runaway elevator. Sarah’s mouth dropped open and her eyes slammed shut.

She clutched the armrests. “Orographic lifting?”

“Yup. Business as usual in the coastal range. Nothing to get alarmed about.” He pushed down on the collective, nosing the craft up and out of the turbulence. “See? We’re already out of it. Like passing through rapids on a river.”

She clung to the armrests, bracing herself for another round of turbulence, but he was right. The last few miles to the landing zone passed smoothly. The afternoon breeze had died down enough to allow him to land straight on the sled.

He set the bird down and immediately checked on his passenger. “All good?”

She nodded, loosening her death grip on the armrests and fumbling for the clasp on her shoulder harness.

Before he shut down the engine, he fished a necklace out from inside his shirt, fingering a simple silver cross as he lifted a silent prayer for their safe return. He’d made the same prayer a million times now, after hairy flights and routine ones.

Faith was built a grain of sand at a time. He had no intention of being a fair-weather Christian, calling on his Savior only in times of need.

He cut the engine, waiting for the rotors to spin down enough for him to engage the emergency brake. While he waited, he completed the other shut down procedures. Sarah slipped out of her shoulder harness and checked her phone, waiting for him to give the okay for her to exit the aircraft.

Once the rpms slowed, he engaged the rotor brake. “Okay. We’re shut down. You’re free to exit,” he told her.

A dark van roared up the road toward them, kicking up a cloud of dust. They stopped between the barn and the aircraft. The van carried the logo of a local pest control company.

He put a hand on the butt of his side arm. He didn’t detect any stress on her end, but better safe than sorry.

“That’s the pickup team,” she told him. “They’ll secure the merchandise.”

“Roger that.” He was thankful Halliburton’s promise held. Apparently all they needed from him was his piloting skills.

Eager to get this done, he unclipped his shoulder harness and moved between the seats to unlock the sliding cargo door. He jumped to the ground, swinging around to loosen the cargo straps and grab one of the heavy black duffles.

Sarah was still in the aircraft, standing between the front seats. She put a foot down on the bag. “Don’t touch.”

Seriously? Hands splayed, he backed away from the bags, his expression one of mock horror.

“It’s a stupid rule, but we’re under strict orders not to touch this stuff.” She tilted her head toward the van. “I think these guys are NSA. They’re an odd bunch. Strange rules.”

He backed away from the helo. “No problem. I can stay in my lane.”

Two guys in company uniforms exited the vehicle.

Sarah’s guarded expression returned as she watched the men approach. “It’s better that way. Trust me.”

Trust her? Yeah. He wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon.

The agent on Enzo’s right stopped about ten feet from them and nodded at Sarah. “Agent Walker.”

“Agent Panetta,” she responded, her tone equally flat.

The stockier operative eyed Enzo. “Step away from the aircraft.”

Enzo felt his face flush. What was this, kindergarten?

Sarah shot him a pleading look. Not bothering to mask his annoyance, he held up his hands and stepped back with exaggerated care. “No problem.”

The two men brushed past him as if he wasn’t there and hopped into the aircraft. He shot Sarah a look. She shrugged, raising her hands in a helpless gesture.

Enzo climbed into his truck and left, watching the men in his rearview mirror until he drove out of sight. All these strange orders, and secrecy left a bad taste in his mouth. Effective teams trusted each other.

The dirt road straightened out as it headed toward the paved road ahead. He pressed on the gas. This assignment couldn’t end soon enough.

At least he only had a bit part. Until they needed another pickup, he got to dive back into his real life.

Sarah Walker’s Peaches Duvall roll went twenty-four seven. He whistled long and low. She probably didn’t even have a real life.

The fact that he cared only annoyed him more.