Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(66)

He put the helicopter on the ground, yet she could tell by the way he juggled the pedals with his feet that he was keeping it poised for immediate take off.

“Open your door and get in the back. Quickly.”

She obeyed, fumbling with the awkward catch on the door. She shucked off her safety harness and headset and squeezed through the two seats into the cramped back seat. By the time she turned around, Minnie was almost to the helicopter. Her small face was white, her eyes wide and her mouth open. She held out her hand, almost leaning towards them as she ran.

Behind her, Duardo looked over his shoulder every few steps.

Trouble chasing them.

Minnie was at the door now, scrambling to climb the awkward step into the cabin. She gasped for breath. She stumbled, her shin hit the edge of the door sill and she gave a breathless little whimper. Calli held out her hand, intending to boost her up and through to the back seat, to make way for Duardo.

Duardo reached the door and held it open, out of Minnie’s way. He looked back, watching.

From the trees, three armed men rushed out into the open. As they lifted their rifles up, Nick shouted, “Down!”

Minnie threw herself across the front seat and Nick’s hand landed on Calli’s shoulder, pushing her out of the way. There was no arguing with the force he used. She folded without resistance, dropping into the tiny space between the bench seat and the back of the chair she had been sitting in. She could just see over the windowsill.

Duardo merely turned, his gun raised. He fired three shots.

The men at the other end of the empty field did not hesitate. They knew his pistol couldn’t reach them, for all but one of them kept running.

Minnie tried to clamber into the back seat.

“Minnie, stay down,” Nick said sharply.

Duardo glanced at her, then back over his shoulder.

The third man had halted and raised his rifle to his shoulder. Even Calli, who knew nothing about weapons, sensed the man was a marksman from the way he held the rifle, sighting along it with care.

Duardo took a step closer to the helicopter, then swung around to face the open doorway, his back to the rifleman. Calli heard the rifle fire. It sounded like a small thunderclap, complete with echo.

Duardo jerked forward, his shoulder hitting the doorframe. He made a small grunting sound and fell over the seat, on top of Minnie.

Nick let go of the controls, picked Minnie up and threw her onto the back seat. Then he grabbed Duardo, a hand under each arm, and hauled him into the seat. He lunged over the top of him, snagged the open door and shut it.

Duardo moved slowly, sitting himself up in the seat.

“Stay down!” Nick roared—to whom, Calli wasn’t sure. She stayed hunched and pulled Minnie down with her.

The helicopter lifted. As soon as it gained height, Nick pushed the stick forward, dropping the nose and shooting them up and forward at a great speed. The engine screamed.

She heard a quiet crack! A small, neat hole appeared in the screen just in front of Nick. Bullet hole, her dazed mind identified. Nick didn’t flinch. From her sideways angle, Calli didn’t see him blink, either. The steep ascent continued.

“Calli!” Nick said, not looking around.

“What?”

“Pull off your tee-shirt. Get it behind him, put pressure on it. Hurry!”

She struggled back onto the bench seat. She didn’t understand why he had given her such a strange order, yet hurried to obey.

“No! Duardo!” Minnie screamed and tried to push past Callie into the front.

Calli froze for a second as the truth slammed into her. “Ohmigod,” she whispered. She ripped off her jacket with trembling, thick-fingered hands. Then she stripped off her tee-shirt and wadded it into a ball.

Minnie was in her way. Calli pulled her petite cousin back with a force that rammed her into the back wall. “I have to get to him,” she said, as an apology.

Calli pushed through the seats, leaning on the console in the middle, her legs still dangling in the back and reached for Duardo.

He lay slumped in the seat, his chin on his chest, his eyes closed. Her heart tightened and a watery, weak rush of adrenaline surged through her. “Duardo!” she called and tugged at his arm.

No response.

She grabbed a fistful of his tee-shirt and hauled on it. She had to get him leaned forward, so she could reach his back.

His hand snagged her wrist, pulling her fingers from his shirt. He lifted his chin and looked at her and shook his head. A little drop of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.

The surge of adrenaline swirled into a sickly panic.

“No!” she shouted at him. “No!”

“Minnie,” he said, then swallowed, his throat working.

Nick’s hand dropped onto Calli’s shoulder. “Let Minnie through.”

Calli gritted her teeth, shook her head. “No. I get the pad on, we get him somewhere.”

“Calli,” Duardo said.

She looked at him, ready to battle it out with him, too. They would get him somewhere. Things would be okay. This was real life. Not the eleven o’clock news. He would be just fine, goddammit.

Duardo smiled. “La dama fuerte. Thank you for not letting go.”

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Pressure building in her chest and stomach jammed up everything.

Nick’s hand on her arm. Pulling her up. Pushing her to the back seat.