Dan Lazar’s breath caught. There it was. Taunting him from the showroom floor in a spotlight perfect as a moonbean. The helicopter he’d longed for since that first trip over the Hubbard Glacier. Its snazzy design sent his heart pounding like the blades of its Sikorsky rotors—whomp whomp whomp. He’d have to steal a few clients from that gin-swilling floozy to afford it. Definitely change the name…“Reacher?” Ick. But he’d keep the griffin painted in bold strokes on the side. Strong, powerful, mythic…yeah, he’d make quite the entrance in this baby. The 212 would never be the same.
oh wait, maybe you didn't mean me.