20. Kai

TWENTY

Kai

The 'korsky loomed large before us, a sleek and powerful bird ready to take unidentified cargo to an as yet unnamed location. I don't know why Indigo was holding back on intel for a pilot she'd taken on board, and there was that niggle in my head that maybe she was testing me, and this sitting around with my thumb up my ass was going to get boring quickly. A bored Kai was an unhappy Kai—Zach's words, not mine.

"Cargo," Yuri said. He split from me, heading with purpose into the shadows towards the packed payload. Yuri was a man of few words and hit all the bad guy movie stereotypes. I assumed Kozlov had recruited him in their country. Or at least that was my guess , I corrected myself—Zach always said to assume was to make an ass out of you and me. Idiot. I was sure, armed with the covert surveillance and his full name, Zach could get more information on my big brooding co-pilot.

Despite the fucked-up situation that had me here, I couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenalin and excitement at the sight of the helicopter.

Undercover. Flying the 'korsky. Breaking the law.

Good old Dad, with his hissing and spitting about my life choices, would be so proud. Not .

I ran my gloved hand along its sturdy exterior, checking for any signs of wear or damage that might compromise our mission, and beside me, Yuri remained focused on his task, moving in silence even with his massive frame, the light glinting from the knife hung at his side. He was an unknown quantity, as was the freaking destination. I just wanted to blow this popsicle stand and get up in the air where I at least had some modicum of control.

Turning my attention to the cargo, I scrutinized each wrapped cube. It might be Yuri's job to get things into the hold, but I was the pilot, and it was me ticking off my checklist. I knew my OCD tendencies came out when I flew, but that was what made me good. Everything needed to be secured tightly, ensuring nothing would shift or become dislodged during the flight, and Yuri didn't complain when I double-checked his work and the weight distribution .

"Manifest weight?" I asked.

He confirmed the weight, and we exchanged glances. I searched for the lie but found nothing. I'd feel it through the cyclic if the cargo was overweight, but getting this baby off the ground safely was the hardest part. We fastened the doors. Again, I went behind him, reviewing, and then we moved on to the cockpit inspection and system checks and went through the engine start. She felt good; there were no abnormalities, no unusual sounds or vibrations.

I pulled down the mic. "Comm check," I said, and Yuri confirmed. "Delta comm, you wanna give me a freaking destination now, or do you want me to fly around in circles?"

There was a pause, Indigo making me wait. Fuck, after we had her, I was gonna have fun making her wait for something, anything… prison time, maybe… or the barrel of my gun if she fought back. I hoped she fought back; then we could go knife on knife. Jeez, Zach would hate it getting physical. He preferred the clean bullet type of op, whereas getting in there and getting my hands dirty was my jam.

"Delta comm. I. Need. A. Destination?" I repeated and side-eyed Yuri, who stared straight ahead, chin tilted, eyes fixed, and didn't even flinch when I poked him in the arm to get a reaction. Made of stone, clearly. I covered the mic and punched him in the arm to get his attention. "You don't talk much. "

He faced me with that closed-off expression of his. "You talk too much," he said in a low tone, and I clutched my chest as if I he'd wounded me. I thought I saw the hint of a smile in a quick twitch of his lips, but it was probably my imagination.

"Delta bird, your nav is live," someone said in my ear.

I flicked up the overhead nav, and waited for the coordinates to dial in.

"Delta comm, confirmed." With a steady hand, I gripped the cyclic, feeling the subtle resistance as I adjusted the pitch of the rotor blades. The collective responded to my touch, increasing the angle of attack to lift the helicopter off the ground. The roar of the engines filled the cockpit as we ascended, not a single shudder or wobble, and then we were still, for a moment, hovering. "Let's do this," I said, and then as we gained altitude, I guided the helicopter with ease, weaving through the airspace with the precision of a master craftsman.

If I said so myself.

With each maneuver, I maintained a careful balance between speed and control, my senses attuned to every nuance of the aircraft's movement, and we skimmed the terrain. Flying at a low altitude, below the radar horizon, might help minimize the risk of detection by ground-based radar systems, but we needed to keep close to the trees to avoid airborne radar. This made us vulnerable to obstacles, as well as limited visibility and maneuvering space, but fuck, my heart raced, and pushing the limits, I was in my element.

Unlike Yuri, who, I swear, if there was an oh-fuck handle, he'd be gripping it with both hands.

"Stealth mode engaged," I deadpanned. "You okay over there, Yurinator? See what I did there, Yuri, Nator… I'm so funny."

"Eyes front," Yuri said, then cursed. This time, he didn't even look at me as he issued a stream of Russian. Man, it was fun making him curse. We reached our destination in under an hour and hovered over the coordinates. I peered down, furrowing my brows as I scanned the landscape below, then threw a puzzled glance at Yuri.

"Wait," he instructed, and I scowled at him. This was yet more shit I wasn't being told. Hell, there was no obvious landing place in sight, just a vast expanse of rugged terrain and trees stretching as far as the eye could see under moonlight, which wasn't a hell of a lot. But then, as if by magic, a ring of soft lighting appeared, illuminating a near-perfect circle on the ground.

"There," Yuri instructed. "You land."

I guided the helicopter towards the illuminated landing zone. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie, the circle of light standing out in the darkness of the surrounding landscape. As we descended, I could see a flat, open area that seemed custom-made for our landing. And more trees—a hell of a lot of trees. I wished it was daylight so I could get a better lay of the land, but for now, I maneuvered the helicopter towards the light, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as we touched down on the designated landing spot. The lights bathed the cockpit warmly as I powered down the engines and prepared to disembark.

Yuri gripped my arm to stop me. "We wait."

"For what?"

The cockpit door swung open with a creak, and my heart skipped a beat as the barrel of a gun appeared in the doorway, gleaming in the dim light of the helicopter's interior. My muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, as I braced myself for whatever was about to happen.

"Out," the man holding the gun barked, no accent, his voice sharp and commanding. "Both of you."

I exchanged a quick glance with Yuri, who didn't seem at all fazed by the action. Without a word, we both complied, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid provoking any sudden movements from the armed intruder. A couple of other guys patted us down, and yet again I was separated from my gun.

This shit was getting old.

"You unload," the man ordered, gesturing at Yuri with his weapon. Yuri moved to obey, overseeing the removal of whatever product we'd ferried over. When the 'korsky was empty, and the cargo had vanished into the trees on small wagons, the guard who'd frisked me handed me back my weapon, but not before ejecting the bullets and giving me those separately.

Asshole.

"Back inside," guy-with-a-gun ordered, and Yuri gestured for me to get in first.

"Now what?" I asked as soon as the cockpit door shut behind us, every person in the clearing gone.

"We go back," Yuri replied, his expression unreadable as he settled into his seat.

"This is gonna get boring quickly," I said. "You with me, Yurinator?" No response, but then, I hadn't been expecting one. "How many times do we do this? Nightly? Once a week?" Again, no response to the question, but he growled and shot me a glance filled with irritation. Okay, so it was a no on questions then.

"Fly," he ordered.

"You're not the boss of me, Yurinator," I deadpanned, and yep, there was that growl again.

The nav computer flicked back to the mine. I started the engines, and the familiar roar filled the cockpit as we lifted off the ground and into the night sky.

I kept the helicopter at a low altitude as I guided it through the darkness, on high alert for any signs of trouble—I might joke about boredom, but when I was at the controls of a baby like this, I was one hundred and ten percent focused. The minutes ticked by slowly, each feeling like an eternity as we returned to base .

We'd reached our destination in fifty-two minutes, which was a useful stat for Zach to draw loci for locations to the north. I'd already memorized the coordinates for the zone, but Zach would need more because I bet the location moved.

Yuri remained stiff and silent beside me, his demeanor tense and withdrawn. He exuded an air of icy detachment, his expression unreadable as he ignored my attempts at conversation. He wasn't one to engage in idle chatter, his focus on the task at hand, and it made me want to talk more. His broad shoulders and steely gaze were enough to intimidate me, but I couldn't help but feel an anticipatory shiver run down my spine as I imagined crossing paths with him in a dark alley. How long would it take for me to knock him out, and just how much fun could I have until that happened?

As we neared the mines, I was about ready to break the silence with idle chatter. "So, Yuri, before we get back, what's your favorite kind of music?" I asked, hoping to lighten the mood with some casual conversation. I glanced at him, but he remained silent, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. "Well, if you don't answer, I'll just have to talk to myself," I said with a chuckle, turning back to the controls.

"So," I began, adopting a Russian accent as I pretended to converse with myself. "What kind of music do you like?"

I paused for a moment, considering the question before continuing. "Hmm, let's see. I'd say I'm a fan of classic rock. You know, bands like Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, that kind of thing." I shook my head, amused by the absurdity of the situation. "But then again, I also enjoy some electronic music from time to time. Nothing like a good techno beat to get the adrenalin pumping, right? Are you with me, Yurinator?"

Nothing. So I switched back to the fake accent. "I like good red-state Russian hymns." I chuckled to myself as Yuri ignored my one-sided conversation, then nodding as if he had thoughts on my pretend conversation.

"Russian hymns, eh? Well, hey, everyone's got their own taste in music, right?"

There was no sign of a smile. If anything, he was more still, a silent but deadly presence demanding respect and commanding attention, and he wasn't finding me funny at all.

"So much for work buddies," I muttered.

He was out of the 'korsky as soon as we touched down and before I'd shut off the engines. I followed much more sedately after I'd undertaken all necessary checks. Then, with her locked down, I patted her side.

"Thanks, babe," I whispered, sauntering into the office complex. There was no sign of Yuri, just Indigo and her two goons hovering. I'd already identified a pinch point for Goon One—he leaned to the left slightly. An old injury, maybe? Goon Two was more difficult to read, a mountain of a man who moved slowly but with purpose. A knife to Goon One's bad side, maybe dislocate his shoulder. Goon Two I'd put in the shoot-him-before-he-even-realized-I was-coming-for-him category.

"Any problems?" Indigo asked, twirling that damn knife.

"I got us there. They took the cargo. I got us back," I summarized.

"Yuri says you talk too much," she smirked. I really hated that smirk.

"Well, Yurinator is a closed-off fuckhole who wouldn't know good music if it killed him."

She considered me for a moment. I kept my posture easy, no standing on ceremony, no inching closer even though it would be very easy to take her out. Getting rid of her wouldn't get me closer to Kozlov, and that was our end game—no point in canceling the underdog when the big guy was the one we wanted the intel on.

"You're hired," she threw down an envelope of money. "Take it."

I picked it up, opened it, and saw my entire fee, all twenty K in bills.

"You know online banking is a thing?" I asked.

She lifted an eyebrow, and that was a good sign our chat was over. "Abel, escort Mr. Talks Too Much to his room."

"I don't need to go to a room. "

Abel—Goon One with the wonky injury—didn't pull his gun, but he rested his hand on it, and that was an easy-to-read threat.

Seems like I was going to my room.

So much for gathering intel.