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    "Oh my god," she cried, staring at their linked wrists.
    He raised his hand, causing her to raise her own, as well.  "This is what happens when you run from me.  All right?  I'm through with your stubborn attitude and your hard head.  From this moment on I am running this show, not you."
    "And you prove your stance as the big Kingpin of the helicopter by handcuffing our wrists together?  How's that for logic."
    "Shut up."
    She watched him for a long moment, then a slow smile crept to her face.  “Don’t fucking tell me to shut up.”
    If she had any idea how long it had been since a woman smiled at him like that, she wouldn't do it.  Her filthy mouth was doing nothing to help her, either.  If she kept this up, he would happily take her right there in that aircraft, bum leg and all, and give her a real reason to spew that kind of profane language.
    Remy assumed this was as close to shutting-up as she'd ever come.  He leaned forward, pushing his blonde locks out of his eyes while he looked out at the sky.  "It’s getting dark." 
    He looked over to her and destroyed what was left of the gel in his hair, causing the rest of it to fan down just above his ears and shadow his eyes even more. Violet would never tell him how much she actually loved the way he looked right at that moment.  It was as if that silky blonde hair of his balanced out his grouchy demeanor, creating a happy medium of him.  Just as quickly as it was there, though, he was pushing it back again, eternally annoyed by it. 
    "It’s getting dark," he repeated.
    She took a beat, looked away from him, and then looked back. "Back there... back on the roof…" She paused. "Would you really have shot me if I'd kept running? Or would you have let me go?"
    He caught her gaze and held it for a long moment.
    “Would you have let me go?” Her eyes grew bigger as she repeated the question.
    He was surprised to hear such trepidation in her voice, since she'd been such a hard ass up until then.  He was happy she'd asked him this, because he knew exactly how to answer.  He knew exactly what she didn't want to hear, and exactly what would make her fear him the way she should’ve been fearing him from the moment he'd grabbed her.  He looked her dead in the eyes and answered. "No, I wouldn’t have let you go."
    Violet's mouth dropped, and she examined his face, looking for any clues that he was lying.  She couldn't find one.  Eventually, she gave up and looked away, not sure what to make of the answer he'd just given her.
    They flew in silence for so long she almost drifted off, and was startled out of her revere when Remy suddenly unarmed the locks of the helicopter.
    Her eyes flew to him.
    “We’re losing fuel,” he croaked, his deep voice having grown much weaker in the short time they’d been airborne. He lifted their cuffed wrists and fiddled with the hundreds of different buttons on the console. “I disabled the GPS after we took off, and I’ve been flying under the radar, but that’ll only keep them off our tails for so long. And we’re losing fuel.”
    Violet nodded, craning her head when he stopped speaking at what she would describe as a pivotal point of the conversation.  “Why are you telling me this?”
    Remy turned away from her and swung open the door of the helicopter.  She cried out in surprise, but the sound was muffled by the violent wind that instantly hit them, almost knocking them both out of their seats.  Remy grabbed a hold of the nearest safety handle and looked out of the open door, taking in the black waters of the Pacific Ocean hundreds of feet below.
    He looked at Violet from over his shoulder. His blue eyes shone under the moonlight as the wind blew his blonde locks into his face.
    “We have to jump.”
     

3
     
    Violet’s mouth hung open as Remy released the handcuff from her wrist.  Being linked to him by the cold, hard metal suddenly seemed desirable.  If Remy was aware of her stupefied state, he