Exposed - A Thriller Novella (Chandler Series) by J.A. Konrath & Ann Voss Peterson Read Online Free PDF Page A

everything and tried to protect the
goods.
    As he leaned forward I slipped to the side,
grabbing his shoulder, using his momentum to carry him forward and
introduce his head to the stone planter at the top of the stairs.
He hit it with a dull thud , then crumpled to the ground.
    I didn’t know if I’d killed him or merely
incapacitated him, and I didn’t wait to find out. I raced down the
stairs and past the pool, kicking the shoes from my feet as I ran
for the helicopter.
    I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d do once I
reached it. I had no weapon, no plan. The aircraft was a purple
Bell 427, under ten years old. Twin engine, light utility, seated
eight. Through the cabin doors I saw four people inside, one of
them the pilot, one Julianne. I’d been trained to fly several
different varieties of chopper, including more common types used
for corporate flying, but I didn’t think they were just going to
hand over the keys because I asked nicely.
    Voices erupted behind me, but I didn’t turn
to look. I ran in a zigzag pattern, waiting for the pop of gunfire,
but it never came.
    Then I heard grunting behind me; a runner,
giving chase.
    I straightened course and pushed more energy
into my legs. The grass was stiff and harsh against the soles of my
feet, jabbing and slicing. The copter backwash was hot, smelled
like exhaust, blowing faster and louder every step closer, until I
couldn’t hear my pursuer anymore.
    But I knew he was still there.
    Ahead the helicopter shifted to one side,
then started to lift.
    I hit a dip in the ground and stumbled to one
knee. Pushing off, I righted myself and ran harder.
    I could feel the man behind me now, feel his
footsteps gaining. I was fast, but in a few strides he would
overtake me.
    I was nearly upon the aircraft. Sand
particles pelted my skin, stirred into the air by the blades. Hair
whipped across my eyes. The chopper was now three feet in the air,
rising fast.
    There was only one thing I could do, and I
couldn’t believe I was actually going to attempt it.
    Once I passed under the chopper, I leaped for
all I was worth. My fingertips hit the right skid. I grabbed on,
one hand slipping. The helicopter swayed and bucked and for a
moment, and I thought the whole thing might come down on top of me.
I made another swipe with my loose hand, and this time my fingers
held and the helicopter lifted me into the air.
    My pursuer was right beneath me. His arms
closed around my legs, binding, holding tight. It was the Tony
Montana wannabe.
    I twisted, fighting to break free.
    The chopper tipped and veered to the
right.
    I pulled a foot loose and kicked, hitting him
in the forehead with my heel, but he wouldn’t let go.
    The blades canted, dangerously low to the
ground. One hit and it would be over for all of us. I’d seen a bird
cartwheel before. They never found all the pieces of the dead.
    I pummeled Scarface with my bare heel, the
force shuddering up my leg. His hold slipped. He clawed at my knee,
locking my ankle in his armpit, but I kept up my assault, driving
my foot into his head, his face, as we ascended.
    My grip was one of my best skills. I could
crack walnuts barehanded. Once, during training, I hung onto an
iron bar for six hours.
    But I didn’t have an extra hundred eighty
pounds gripping my ankles, or the extra g-force of liftoff. Unable
to hold on, my left hand slipped off the skid.
    My right wrist turned, and I felt like I was
being pulled in half. I chanced a look down, saw the ground
blurring beneath me, and got a straight shot of fear.
    Fear was an ugly, destructive thing. It
enveloped you, made you doubt yourself, clouded your thinking and
muddied your ability to act.
    But human physiology also provided a plus to
counter all of those minuses. The fear kick-started my adrenal
cortex, and I got a pop of adrenaline that made me feel like my
muscles had been electrified.
    Screaming against the pain, the weight, I
slapped my loose hand up against the skid and doubled my