Page 37 of Billion-Dollar Ransom
“You really want to do this, rich boy?”
A beast-like growl came out of Tyler’s throat, and he hurled himself at Five.
Tyler Schraeder did have a size and weight advantage. AndFivewasmomentarily caught by surprise; he’d expected some of that fancy Hollywood martial arts nonsense from Tyler, not a full-on NFL-style blitz.
Tyler tackled Five hard enough that when he hit the wall behind him, the framed art hanging there rattled. Then Tyler locked his hands around Five’s neck and squeezed, probably imagining that he could strangle him or snap his spine or some other dumb action-movie nonsense.
Didn’t he realize that Five had been picked on by kids much older, heavier, and meaner than him? Did Tyler think he would be this easy?
Clearly he did, because he had no defense for when Five jackhammered his forehead into the rich boy’s perfect nose.
And, oh, how he screamed.
What did Five enjoy most—the agony, the gore, or the idea that Tyler’s handsome looks would be ruined forever if he didn’t get major reconstructive surgery? Five decided he enjoyed all of it equally.
Tyler deflated and dropped to the ground; his trembling fingers touched his face as if he could put it back together again—if only it didn’t hurt so damn much.
“You’d better be careful,” Five said. “You’re seriously cutting down on your own hostage value. I think they pay less for an abductee with a missing tooth and a broken nose.”
Rich boy rolled over, spat blood, and in a mumble began to suggest that Five should have carnal relations with himself.
Five kicked Tyler in the stomach before he could finish the thought.This guy, man. He doesn’t give up.“Pretty sure your value would go down even more if you were dead,” Five said.
To be honest, Five was wishing for that. As much as he’d like his share of the treasure, it would be supremely satisfying to watch the life drain from this spoiled asshole’s face, his eyes all wide, with his girlfriend’s terrified screams the last thing he heard on this earth.
Hell, he might kill him even if the moneydidcome through. One would be pissed, but so what?
Then Tyler Schraeder said something that genuinely surprised Five.
He turned over, snuffling blood and trembling, rested on his elbows, gave Five his most defiant sneer yet, and said, “Here’s what you don’t get. The last thing my father would ever do is pay a ransom for me.”
CHAPTER 39
“STOP IT!” CASS shouted. “You’re going to kill him!”
All this time, Cassandra Bart had been watching the fight scene play out as if they were on a stage. As if she weren’t sure if this was real or not. Maybe she was clinging to the hope that this was some kind of reality show. Or an extreme screen test.
Five smirked. “Maybe. Maybe not. Butyouhave nothing to worry about, honey. You, I like.”
Tyler spat out another thick wad of blood and struggled to catch his breath. Five could see the defiance building up again. What a stubborn son of a bitch! Five almost respected him for it. But still, he needed to extinguish that tiny flame of resistance for good. He didn’t want to have to worry about this prick, especially if the ransom money was slow in arriving.
Five grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair and pulled back hard, exposing his neck. He was tempted to punch him in his Adam’s apple. Oh, man, did Five long to do that, let him struggle to breathe until he simply couldn’t.
But instead he grabbed Tyler’s left ear and twisted it almost ninety degrees.
“I’m begging you!” Cass said. “Don’t!”
Five gave her an icy glare, then raised a finger. And then he turned his attention back to her boyfriend.
“Saw this TV show once,” Five said, “about some rich kid just like you who was kidnapped. He grew up in an oil-money family. Grandpa was a stubborn fuck, though. Refused to pay the ransom. He thought the grandkid was, like, faking it and shit. The kidnappers were Mafia or something. I’m talking about the old-school kind, from Italy.”
“Thatrich kidwas John Paul Getty the Third,” Tyler said through gritted teeth. “And you know what happened to the gangsters who kidnapped him? They went to prison for life, just like you’re gonna, you stupid f—”
Five gave another painful twist to his ear:Not your turn to speak.
“When the grandpa refused to pay, the Mafia took the rich boy and cut off his ear. Mailed it to Grandpa. Said, ‘Pay up, or we’ll send more pieces in the mail until there’s nothing left.’”
Another hard turn of the ear, to the point where even Five wondered if he’d taken it too far. “Let me tell you a little secret, rich boy. I might cut off your ear for fun.”
