PREVIEW
... he RPG streaking past, its fiery tail grazing the fuselage by inches. Stan’s heart pounded, his face drained of color, sweat beading on his brow. He’d faced death before—every DEA agent had—but that was the closest he’d ever come to eating a missile. His fear boiled into rage, his voice a snarl. "Light those motherfuckers up! Now!"
"You got it!" The pilot growled, his own anger matching Stan’s. He slammed the firing button, and the chopper’s side-mounted 23mm autocannons spun up with a m ...
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