Coffee & Criminals

31. Aca-Scuse Me?

"Please?"

"Okay."

I could not have regretted an answer so much in my entire eighteen years. Wolfe's face brightened. He wrapped his arm around my waist and basically dragged me to the chopper while I silently prayed for my life and tried to think of an excuse not to go. I was terrified of heights. I was even more terrified of them than I was about the Twizzler company going bankrupt. Red Vines were the devil and helicopters were his little helper. Wolfe didn't stray far from those labels either.

"Give me the word when you're done." The pilot said, craning his neck to watch us get inside. I had to practically drag myself on because the floor of the hovering helicopter was a good four feet off the ground. After Wolfe was done laughing, he helped me get inside by giving me a very helpful push up. Mute with terror, I slid into grey leather seat and Wolfe jumped in beside me.

There were a whole bunch of straps and belt buckles accompanying the plush leather seats. The pilot sighed softly as Wolfe leaned over and began wrapping my arms and torso around with these securities. His nimble but bruised fingers clicked this and tugged that. At least Wolfe knew what he was doing. He leaned in a little too close and I got a whiff of some really good cologne. That lustful urge came back with a fighting vigor, but at that point I was basically immobile so I couldn't do anything even if I wanted to. True to his word, Wolfe helped me slip on a safety vest. He cracked me a grin and sat back to do the same to himself.

After a minute, the pilot sighed again. "Ready, Mr. Sterling? The engine doesn't generate much power." He said gruffly. "I don't know how long the 'copter can stall-"

"We're good to go." Wolfe cut the man off and looked at me again. "The money's been transferred. You know where to go, Sven?"

"Can't exactly stray, huh?" Sven said without humor. The dude had wrinkles around his mouth from frowning so much. I bet he never smiled in his life.

Wolfe chuckled.

The helicopter began to rise. So did the bile in my throat. Hanging onto the seat belt for dear life, I stared straight ahead, my face pale and lips pressed together. What the hell did I get myself into? God, why couldn't I just say no? It was so hard to resist Wolfe though. He was like a little puppy...with a criminal history of drugs, murder, and extortion. One look and I was completely helpless.

After several minutes, I dared to glance out the window. My stomach lurched. We were now hundreds of feet above New York. Every movement of the helicopter, I could feel it. It was like sitting in the back of a school bus, except it was flying. And it was very loud. The roaring of the blades was starting to hurt my ears, but I couldn't move. I was frozen in my seat, biting my lower lip frantically to calm myself down. After my heart finally settled down, I looked at Wolfe. He was staring out his side of the window. I looked out mine again, practicing on taking deep slow breaths.

The image below was nerve-wracking, but also brought on a sense of exhilaration, like riding a roller coaster. Skyscrapers barely reached where we were, the giants of steel and metal now just like normal buildings. The smaller constructions were barely visible, and cars were no bigger than an inch. Euphoria, the addicting high, took my breath away. Vertigo rushed through my veins, clouding my judgement. What the hell was I thinking, going on a helicopter ride with a wanted mafia boss?

The helicopter smoothly flew over the East River and then the Brooklyn Bridge. I'd never been out of Brooklyn in my life. A whole country sprawled across and I had spent all eighteen years of my life in one beautiful city. I wasn't complaining, though. Once you've seen New York you've seen it all, right? The scene below was even better and suddenly, I didn't regret my decision to much.