Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I took Mikhail’s reminder to heart. I know exactly how to keep Isabella shackled to me.
She’s behaving for now, though.
I give Polina a quick hug. “Thank you.”
“Here,” I tell Isabella, pointing at the bag. “She’s put clothes in there that you can change into.” I snap my gaze to where the pilot sits. “She’s getting changed. Close your fucking eyes.” I’d kill him barehanded and fly this thing myself before I let him see an inch of her bare skin.
Isabella winks at me and slithers out of her wedding dress with a sigh of relief. “Mmm. Thought you’d never ask.” In seconds, her dress is in a heap on the floor, and she’s wearing slim black bike shorts and a tank top. “That’s so much more comfortable. Going somewhere warm?”
“So I’m told.”
I quickly dress, too, and put our dress clothes in my bag. Next, we slide on headsets to drown out the deafening sound of the helicopter blades, and we buckle in. I lean back in the seat and draw in a deep breath. I am so damn ready for a vacation.
A crackling noise sounds in my ears. “We’ll communicate via the headset.” It’s the pilot. I’ve flown with him before, but he introduces himself to Isabella. “Mr. Romanov and I served in the Russian Army together. I owe Mikhail my life. In other words, you can depend on me.” He grins. Mikhail doesn’t do anything half-assed.
“We have a two-hour flight ahead of us. Please enjoy the ride and let me know if you need any assistance.”
Yeah, I won’t be needing any more assistance than making sure the guy gets us safely to wherever we’re going. “Thank you,” I tell him.
The chop of the blades is muffled but steady as we rise into the air, clouds quickly skating beneath us. I look at Isabella to see how she’s doing, but she’s frowning.
I tap the headset comms button, but she talks first.
“Lev,” she says with a frown. “Mikhail didn’t order two helicopters, did he? Something’s not right.”
I glance out the window and spot the rapidly approaching aircraft. It’s definitely not ours.
We aren’t the only ones who have noticed. Below, I can see Mikhail with his arm up, yelling at everyone to go for cover. Shit. We’re under attack.
Instinctively, I tap the headset, connecting with our pilot.
"Incoming hostile chopper. Evasive maneuvers now," I command, my voice sharp.
The pilot snaps to and immediately complies, banking hard to the left. We lurch forward in our seats, but his move buys us time. I quickly scan the interior of our helicopter. My brother wouldn’t send us alone and airborne unarmed.
Ahhh.
I find the emergency weapons stashed under the seat. I pull out a MP-9 submachine gun equipped with a suppressor and pass a Glock 19 pistol to Isabella. Her eyes gleam. She’s fucking thrilled by this turn of events, grinning ear to ear like a kid in a chocolate shop. I swear to God, I think I just married a psychopath.
"Stay low, and be ready," I tell her, my tone brooking no argument as I reach for the door.
“No, I’ve got this.” She nods, her eyes focused and determined. “This is Javier or one of his friends, I know it. He wants to go out in style? Bring it.”
As the enemy helicopter closes in, they soar above us, angling slightly downwards so they can get parallel to us, about 30 meters to our portside. We see three men in the door, lining up their shots with wicked looking long rifles.
The pilot continues flying evasively, trying to make it difficult for them to accurately hit our chopper, or draw close but their pilot is persistent and matches our maneuvers with deft skill.
“We need to prevent them from getting a clean shot at our pilot or the tail rotor," I tell Isabella. "Cover me."
“No! Let me! They won’t shoot at me.”
She’s already got her hand on door lock mechanism.
Fuck.
I can’t believe how fast she moves; how quick and lithe she is.
I nod.
“Cover me!” she shouts again as she unlatches the side door. She doesn’t have to ask me twice. She’s my wife.
The wind roars, and the helicopter rocks with the turbulence, the wind dragging her small frame half out of the helicopter, but she steadies herself and pulls herself back in. I position myself next to her.
The first asshole I see, I pull the trigger. Fire bursts from my gun, the bullets hitting him in the chest. He releases his grip and plummets. The second one’s eyes go wide and he hesitates, giving me all the time I need to take him out. The third one, leans out, resting his feet on a landing skid and grasping a handle inside the doorframe, but Isabella leans around me and shoots him in the hand, causing him to lose his grip and fall.