Grimacing, Mike eyed the man standing over him. "You again?" he groaned, as he reached for him. "You know we've really got to stop meeting like this. People are gonna talk."
Burying one hand in the younger man's curls and the other on his lapel, Greschen heaved him upright, setting the chair down with a thump.
"You are the only one I am interested in talking," the other man clipped, giving the tousled curls a jerk for good measure.
Mike winced, feeling it down to his roots. "Then we got a problem," he retorted.
Striding around the bound pilot, Greschen raised an eyebrow. "Where's Airwolf being kept?"
Mike's chin dropped to his chest as if considering for a long moment. The answer when it came was patently Mike. "You know - that's a good question." He gave a protracted sigh. "I mean…750 million dollars worth of helicopter, just sitting out in the middle of nowhere…that just isn't right."
Greschen's eyes narrowed.
"After all," Mike continued. "I've got a perfectly good covered garage at my apartment condo, but…"
"Enough!" Greschen snapped, venom in his voice.
"What?" Mike asked, giving him a bemused grin. "I was just answering you."
The slap when it came was resounding.
"You will talk," the other man promised.
Mike shook his head, trying to gain some semblance of equilibrium back. The salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He heaved in a sharp breath, giving the other man a lopsided grin while trying to ignore where his lip was split. "Funny, I thought I was."
Greschen growled in irritation. "You think I will not kill you?" he snarled.
No, I think you'd be perfectly happy to, Mike thought, eyeing the cold glitter in the other man's eyes as he circled him. The only question was how long it'd take him to get around to doing so.
"What, and lose my winning personality?" he quipped. He braced himself for the next blow.
To his surprise, it didn't come. Greschen merely raised an eyebrow, looking abruptly amused.
"You are very good, Major Rivers," he drawled.
"Thanks," Mike returned, barely daring to hope, even if it was only for a moment.
"Not nearly good enough, of course," Greschen continued. "But enough I may keep you around 'til the first string team shows up."
Rivers bit down on the sting of irritation the words brought. The grin slid off his face.
"So, who's flying her?" Greschen queried. "Hawke?"
Dark blue eyes gave him a baleful glare, not answering.
"Roper?"
Mike hesitated a long moment before finally shrugging. "How would I know? After all, I'm only second string," he retorted.
The arms dealer chuckled as he slapped him roughly on the shoulder, pretending not to notice as Mike cringed beneath his touch. "Oh, do not be grumpy, Major Rivers," he rejoined. "I merely wanted to make sure there was someone left when all was said and done to fly her."
Rivers shot him a questioning glance.
Greschen shrugged. "I'm not interested in Hawke," he commented dryly. "He may be a fine pilot, but he's entirely too much trouble."
Mike's eyes narrowed, quickly garnering his meaning. Greschen intended to take Hawke out before the rescue could even be mounted. The question was how?
Fingering his scar, Victor eyed him contemplatively. "So, who does that leave?" he questioned. "You or Roper?"
Mike glared back.
Victor leant forward, crop in hand, all traces of amusement gone. "Where's Airwolf, Rivers?"
Mike sucked in a harsh breath, bracing himself for what he knew came next.
Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
He gave a brittle grin. He'd sooner die than give up any of Airwolf's team.
The only problem was, with his luck it'd probably come to that.
"Last I checked, doing a pretty good imitation of Santa Claus stuck in a chimney," he retorted wryly. "You got any idea how hard it is to get soot off rotors?"
The crop slashed down again.
The yelp when it came this time reverberated off the walls.
"Okay, we go in here," Hawke said, the stick he held tracing a fine line in the dirt in front of him. Behind him, Airwolf crouched like a beast of prey waiting.
Staring at the diagram, Roper scowled. "Still seems like it's a pretty high risk plan to me."
The fine line between Seb's brows testified to his agreement. It was clear to his mind String was taking the lion's share of the risk. "You sure we can't come up with a better way?"
Hawke huffed a sigh. "Not as I see it. We have to assume Mike's gonna be worse for wear, especially with that arm of his. Greschen's nobody to mess with." Hooded blue eyes glanced over at his son, remembering how close they'd all come to losing their lives at this monster's bidding.
He swallowed.
They would have too, had it not been for Katie.
He shoved the thought away, knowing it was an emotion he couldn't afford right now. Waiting, he eyed the other two.
Frowning, Seb traced the course one last time with a strong, slender finger. At long last, he nodded.
Roper's resentment was clear, from the muscle leaping in his jaw, but he gave a clipped, "Fine." Maybe it wasn't genuine, but it was enough.
The mission was on. Now all they had to do was save Mike, stop Greschen, and not get killed in the process.
Yeah, right, no problem. He huffed a sigh. When pigs fly…
Greschen smiled, surveying his handiwork. He'd been waiting a long time for this day and he intended to savor every moment of it.
Twenty plus years. Twenty long years of raising Archangel's sniveling brat as if she were his own and knowing he'd allowed Moffett to beat him out. Airwolf had slipped through his hands.
Bad enough, Michael had claimed Alex as his own when she'd been his.
Rage churned in his stomach at the memory of a red-haired agent facing him down gun in hand, fury blazing in the dark, green eyes, on a summer day so long ago.
She'd dared to try to stop him when she'd found out his plans for the Proteus project, threatened to turn him over to the Committee…
He fingered the slashing scar, remembering exactly how he'd gotten it.
Handing her over to Moffett had been a pleasure.
Granted, not near the joy snatching the little blue-eyed, blonde haired toddler out of Michael's own home had turned out to be - all while the deputy director had been desperately turning over every stone hunting for his young wife.
His already dead young wife, Greschen thought with a rush of satisfaction.
His original intent had been to kill the child. That'd changed in the weeks that'd followed, waiting for the perfect moment to do so, to ship her body to him, to deposit it on his front doorstep and watch.
He'd come to realize the better torment came from Michael's not knowing. Watching the deputy director nearly wreck a pristine career in his desperation had been worth the headaches of hanging onto the child.
And gradually, he'd begun to hatch a new plan - to raise her as his own, and eventually turn her loose on Archangel. Even then, the child had been precocious and the possibilities had been endless. The irony had not escaped him, using Michael's most precious possession to bring about his downfall.
And so, Katie LaMond had been born.
Admittedly, the experiment had been a mixed bag. Katie had been harder to control than he anticipated. And eventually, Archangel had picked up his career before it imploded - probably due in no small part to his new assistant Marella Duvall.
He would've removed her from the equation, had the opportunity ever presented itself.
Unfortunately, it hadn't. She was better than the others had ever been; Alex included.
And Michael had gotten better at protecting what was his. Bitterness creased his lips. The growing relationship between the two of them over the years had not escaped his attention. Neither had their eventual marriage.
If it hadn't been for the fact Archangel's bank account had shown he was still expending vast sums of money still hunting for his daughter, he might've been tempted to scrap the plan.
The prospect of killing her had been a luscious fruit - just out of reach. Tormenting, taunting, the only balancing blow being the thought of destroying Michael and all he held dear.
Marella…
His daughter…
His honor…
Hawke...
And getting what Moffett had stolen in the first place -
Airwolf.
Yes, he could be patient. Greschen smiled again, the smile twisting the thin lips.
It was only a matter of time.