They loaded up, packing into the stealth helicopter like sardines. Aaron got them in the air within seconds and skated across the night sky into the sunrise. Mack had positioned himself on the outside, holding onto a metal handle overhead for balance. “See if you boys can dig up some radios. A team that size would have had some kind of comms. We’re going back to the original plan. Go in wet; come out dry.”
They zipped through the air to a cool 150 miles an hour in the stealth helo, which Mankel had been kind enough to provide. Using his own devices against him made the victory even sweeter.
With this kind of equipment, Mankel would never detect them coming in. And even if he did, he’d be expecting his men on this craft.
The only person on this helicopter who didn’t belong was Marley. Marley with her wounded doe eyes and stiff, prideful spine. Marley, who kept shooting Mack furtive glances full of longing. Her body was as sweet and lush as a ripe peach in summertime.
A peach who lied.
Mack averted his gaze, staring instead at the blindingly bright light of the sunrise on the horizon. A few white clouds marred the sky, but other than that it was a pure, beautiful blaze. It was a morning meant to be savored and enjoyed.
It was the morning Jack Mankel would die.
Aaron yelled back at the crew behind him, “Ten minutes out, boys.”
“Looks like it’s going to be a hot day, I wouldn’t mind a little dunk in the water,” Mack yelled over the roar of the helo.
Despite the fact he’d pointedly ignored her, he couldn’t let Marley out of his peripheral vision. He knew she was nervous. Hell, she should be. She was flying in with a team of special operatives’ intent on waging a war against a bloodthirsty killer. She’d be inhuman if she weren’t nervous. The old Mack might’ve comforted her, reassured her. But that was before she’d taken a knife to his trust and sliced him open and poured acid on the wound.
