Staring straight at him through those binoculars.

He stepped back from the window and swore. She couldn't have seen him, the little bitch, but Jesus, she was freaky.

The sound of the rotors grew louder and he snapped into mission mode and raised the gun to see the helicopter in the scope. He thought of the vulnerable points he could shoot to make it drop like a rock. The transmission. The appropriately named Jesus bolt that held the blades on. And with the chopper flying perpendicular to his position, he could put a shot right through both people in the front seat. One bullet, two kills, every sniper's dream. Actually four kills, as the chopper would then be unpiloted and crash, taking out the two in the back.

That would be so cool, Tyler thought. Big points in a video game. Get him extra lives to move on to another level.

The sound of the rotors grew louder, and Tyler turned the gun back toward the low-flying helicopter and slowed his breathing.

Mission.

He focused on the gun, the sight picture, his breathing, his heartbeat.

In between beats, he fired.

Wilder felt the aircraft shudder and dived to the floor for the nylon rope even as Bryce dropped from sight. His fingers closed on the rope as the safety cable snapped taut and he heard Nash swear as the snaking steel cable cut his hands. Then the rope broke free of the anchor point-fuck, the rope broke-and Wilder tightened his grasp on the nylon, Nash's skin-on-metal friction giving him the split second he needed to get a solid hold.

"Get him down," Wilder yelled at Karen through the boom mike. "Now. The cable is not secured. It is not secure, and Nash and I are holding it."

She obeyed instantly, bringing the chopper to no forward speed as she descended, ever so carefully.

His arms were burning and he could see the blood flowing over Nash's hands, ripped by the cable. Bad for traction, he thought and braced himself as Karen brought the chopper in. Through the door he could see Armstrong running underneath-Lucy-and then Karen said, "He's down. He's safe. Lucy and some guy got him."

"Fuck." Wilder could feel the weight off the rope but still he didn't let go. He looked at Nash with sympathy. "I got it."

Nash nodded and slowly unwrapped his hands from the bloody steel, hissing in pain as he did so. Wilder let go of the rope and it disappeared over the side.

He spoke into the mike as he got a bandage from the first-aid kit on his web gear. "Put us down as soon as they're out from under, and tell them we need the EMTs." Then he tapped Nash on the shoulder, holding up the bandage. Nash sat back and closed his eyes as Wilder went to work. The cuts looked painful but not serious, and Wilder relaxed enough to let in the thought that he'd been ignoring.

Rope doesn't break, not like that.

Nash swallowed and said, "Thanks, mate."

"No worries," Wilder said, and worried.

When the skid had broken, Lucy had yelled, "No!" and shoved Daisy to one side to get to Bryce before his pedaling legs hit gravel. LaFavre was right by her side, moving very fast for someone who talked so slow. They grabbed Bryce just as his feet touched down and pulled him back, slowing him to a trot, LaFavre smoothly unhooking the cable from the back of Bryce's harness as they brought him to a stop. Then there were people everywhere, taking Bryce from her, asking a thousand questions, all variations of, "Are you all right?"

No, she wanted to say as she let them take him, the EMTs closing in. He's not all right. He just fell off a goddamn helicopter.

Lucy picked up her headset again. "Who's hurt?" she said, remembering Wilder's call for the EMTs.

"Nash cut his hands," Karen said, her voice almost lost in the rotor noise.

Lucy swallowed. "How's Wilder?"

"Fine," Karen said. "We're down in a minute. I can't see the skid. What happened?"

Lucy looked at the helicopter. The right skid was dangling almost straight down. "The skid broke, I think."

"Excuse me, ma'am," LaFavre said. "Are you talking to the pilot?"

Lucy nodded.

"Might I have a word with him?"

"Her." Lucy gave him the headset.

LaFavre smiled. "Her?" He held the headset between them so she could hear, and said, "Pilot, this is Major LaFavre, Task Force 160. You've got a bum right skid, detached in front, still attached the rear, but not able to sustain landing. Recommend you head to Hunter Airfield and swap that bad boy out. They can put a brace out for you. I could make a call for you and make sure you get special treatment." Lucy noticed that the accent came back stronger during the last sentence.

"Shit," Karen said. "Change in plans. I can hover and drop Nash off so the EMTs can check him. Then I have to go back to the airfield, I'll need Wilder for that."

"And me, darling," LaFavre said.

"Who the hell are you?" Karen snapped.

"Why, I introduced myself, my cheri. Major Rene LaFavre. And who do I have the pleasure of discourse with?"

"Lucy? Who the hell is this guy?" Karen sounded distracted.

Lucy reached out and took the headset back before LaFavre asked Karen out for dinner and a sleepover.

"He's a friend of Wilder's," she said into the headset to Karen. "A pilot. I want to talk to everybody in that copter when you're back."

"Roger that," Karen said.

When the chopper was hovering less than three feet off the ground, LaFavre and one of the EMTs grabbed Nash as Wilder passed him out on the side with the good skid. Despite his pain, Nash looked embarrassed about being passed from chopper to ground like a bag of potatoes. LaFavre tipped his cap at Lucy, then grabbed Wilder's offered hand, put a foot on the good skid, and jumped on board.

Beyond them was Bryce, still white as a sheet but now surrounded by about twenty people, including Mary Vanity, who was offering him anything he wanted. He'd be fine, Lucy knew. He'd go to dinner on this story for years.

She, on the other hand, was not fine. Something had gone very wrong up there and on this shoot, there was no chance it was an accident. "Stephanie," Lucy said, not bothering to look behind her. "Go get that cable and bring it to me. Then go to the base and pick up Karen and Wilder, and while you're there find out what happened to that skid. I want to know everything. Go. "

Stephanie went.

Lucy surveyed the scene, looking for anything, anybody who was out of place. Bryce was already expanding under the attention. Nash had closed his eyes and was wincing as an EMT and Doc checked his torn hands. LaFavre was in the hovering helicopter, and as she watched, he bowed at the waist, touching the brim of his cap in salute.

Next to him, Wilder was braced in the door, looking straight at her.

Lucy picked up her apple and bit into it again, thinking, It was supposed to have been you on that skid. Whatever was going on, he was in the middle of it. And she was going to find out what it was before somebody killed him.

Then the helicopter lifted off again and she went to find out what the hell Bryce had been doing on that skid.

Wilder broke eye contact with Armstrong as Karen lifted the chopper and turned it toward the airfield. She'd looked mad as hell tearing into that apple, which couldn't be right; he'd just saved her star's butt. And LaFavre had given her his Cajun bow and a. salute. What more could a woman want?

On the other hand, it was Armstrong. Not an easy woman.

LaFavre leaned close so he could be heard, the light reflecting off his aviator sunglasses. "J. T. Wilder. Always causing trouble."

"Swamp Rat LaFavre. Everything was fine until you showed up."

"Watch who you call Swamp Rat." LaFavre sat down in the seat and Wilder joined him, trying to avoid the splatter of Nash's blood. "Just came out to check on the actress you promised me."

"Did you see what happened?" Wilder asked.

"Yep."

"So what happened?"

LaFavre shrugged. "Don't know. Skid broke while your man was on it."

"You ever hear of a skid giving out?" Wilder asked.

"I've heard of everything that can go wrong with a chopper going wrong." LaFavre leaned over to inspect the right skid of the Jet-Ranger. "We ripped a skid off one of the Little Birds in the 'Stan sort of like that. Hit the roof of a building during extraction of a team." He turned to Wilder. "You mean that wasn't planned?"

"Nope."

"Well, that sucks." A sly smile crossed LaFavre's face. "So how are those actresses?"

Wilder thought of Althea. "Dangerous."

"Right. I could use some of that danger. That little blonde in the car, woo-hoo. Hot, very hot."

"Yeah," Wilder said, trying to sound offhand. "Did she look familiar to you? Like maybe she was in some movie about the Navy?"

"Blow Me Down," LaFavre said. "Ran a lot on late night Showtime. I have the DVD. Second ensign on the right in the shower scene. A truly fine piece of cinema." He nodded toward Karen. "What's the story there?"

"I tried that route," Wilder said. "You don't want to go there."

LaFavre laughed. "Ah, my friend, but you do not have my charm, wit, and good looks."

Wilder watched the land speed by below them, thinking that since he was now undercover, he should probably question Karen. Of course, he wasn't going to be good at it-his first ex had always said he had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Which he had considered kind of a compliment, because a sledgehammer could be a damn effective tool. Still, he could try charm. He grabbed a headset and spoke into the intercom. "Learn to fly in the military?"