The pilot slowly pulled his hand from the maintenance panel.
In his trembling palm sat a sleek, military-grade C4 explosive, wired directly to the helicopter’s altimeter. It was set to detonate the second they reached two thousand feet.
The billionaire didn’t flinch. He turned slowly toward his elegant second wife.
Her perfectly crafted facade finally crumbled. “He’s lying!” she shrieked, her voice cracking as she pointed frantically at the sweating young man. “He’s a lunatic! Get him out of here!”
The young man wiped a smear of dirt from his chin. He didn’t back down. Instead, he took a step forward, locked eyes with her, and delivered a challenge that sucked the air out of the lawn.
“Then ask her to fly with you.”
The deafening roar of the idle helicopter blades suddenly felt like a death knell.
The woman’s eyes went wide with absolute, paralyzing terror. Her jaw dropped. She took a frantic step backward, her shiny gold dress trembling in the sunlight.
The billionaire’s expression hardened into pure ice. He gestured toward the open cabin door. “After you, darling. Let’s take that trip.”
“Arthur, please, no!” she sobbed, backing directly into the massive chests of the security guards.
Arthur looked back at the young stable hand. “How did you know it was there, boy?”
The young man suddenly stood taller. He rolled his shoulders, completely dropping the terrified, innocent act. Reaching into his dirty denim pocket, he pulled out a small, blinking detonator remote and tossed it onto the pristine grass.
“Because she only paid me half upfront,” the young man smiled, his eyes flashing with ruthless calculation. “And I don’t build bombs on a discount.”
The billionaire let out a cold, sharp laugh.
“Put my wife in the helicopter,” he ordered the guards. “She’s going for a solo flight.”