Page 64 of Billion-Dollar Ransom
Right before the door to their informal cell was pried open, Tyler had told her to stay calm. “This is the cavalry arriving, babe. My dad knows people. Serious people.”
She couldn’t deny that they sounded serious. For the past few minutes—maybe longer?—they’d heard a series of teeth-rattling explosions and ceaseless gunfire that sounded like a popcorn machine running amok. Tyler, God help him, lookedexcited. How was that possible?
Cass had looked at his badly beaten face and said: “What if it’s not the cavalry? What if it’s somebody worse?”
Even if that was the case, Tyler insisted he’d handle it. “Baby, I can negotiate with anyone.” Exactly what an overconfident asshole would say in an action movie right before his head was blown off.
Spoiler alert: Tyler’s head wasn’t blown off.
But he did not have the chance to negotiate or even say a single charming word. As soon as the door was blasted open, guns were pushed into their faces. Cass could not see the men. There was too much smoke and frenzied activity. And she and Tyler couldn’t move because their wrists were still cinched to the bed with hard plastic zip ties.
But not for long.Snip-snip—the zip ties were cut away. Hoods were pulled over their heads. Cass heard Tyler groan in pain a second before she felt thick, rough hands on her shoulders forcing her to her knees. And then a boot in the middle of her back sent her flying forward, and her face smashed into the floor.
Stunned, she was barely aware when they lifted her into some kind of stretcher or maybe a blanket—it was hard to tell when she was so disoriented. Then she was being moved, bouncing helplessly as the men hurried her out of the house.
Cass was loaded into what felt like the bed of a pickup truck. She knew this feeling—her first vehicle, back in Odessa, Texas, had been a used pickup, and she and her friends would lie in the back of it, look up at the stars, and talk about their dreams. Later, at state fairs, she’d sing from that same flatbed, accompanied by a boom box playing instrumental Taylor Swift tracks.
Some part of Cass’s mind thought this was funny, her life coming full circle—flatbed to flatbed.
The ride was rough. She struggled to use her elbows and heels to steady herself, but the driver of the pickup kept swerving, speeding up, and braking hard. Cass bounced around forwhat felt like forever. Occasionally she bumped into Tyler, but he must have been unconscious because he didn’t speak.
Soon Cass was unconscious too.
When she woke up, the hood was off, and she was sitting up. The lights were way too bright, and her eyes refused to focus. Her wrists and ankles were zip-tied to a sturdy wooden chair. She became aware of all her injuries at once.
When her eyes finally focused, she was surprised to find herself on a film set.
That’s what it had to be, right? Granted, Cass didn’t see the usual gear; there were no lighting rigs or craft services.
But therewasa digital camera on a tripod and a crew of bored-looking people standing around and staring at her as if waiting for her to speak her line.
What was her line? What was she supposed to say in this moment? And where was Tyler?
Her eyes found the person who looked most like an authority figure. The director, maybe? “Excuse me, can you tell me what’s happening?”
The authority figure glared at her. That’s because he was speaking to someone on the phone—the real authority, it turned out—and she had rudely interrupted him. “Blindfold them,” he told a minion.
And then he returned to his phone conversation. “We have the two of them,” he said. “One hundred percent.”
CHAPTER 71
Thursday, 8:47 p.m.
SIX BLENDED IN perfectly with the civilians. Which was why One had hired her for this assignment. Six had a certain look.
Or non-look.
If you happened to glance at Six, you’d instantly dismiss her, regardless of your generation. If you were a Gen Z or Millennial, you’d think she was a factory-model Karen, ready to manage a youth soccer team or complain to the manager at any moment. If you were Gen X, which happened to be Six’s generation, you’d also ignore her, because there were plenty of people who looked like Six already populating your feed, and why the hell did you need one more? Everybody that age had gone to college with dozens of women who now looked like Six.
And Boomers? They’d view Six as another one of the sheep,blindly following whatever was trending. They would not consider her worthy of their attention.
Six was, for all practical purposes, invisible.
Which was why she was perfect to float among the shoppers and tourists at the Grove. She’d spent the past two days patiently waiting for this moment. She felt like the surprise guest star late in the season of a streaming series. The audience didn’t know how important you’d be or to what degree you’d alter the storyline—butyouknew, and as you waited, you got to watch all the pieces falling slowly into place, knowing that your role was the most vital one of all.
Six strolled past the synchronized fountain, where a couple of kids up way past their bedtime were trying to predict where the bursts and streams would jet out of the concrete. She made her way to the AMC Grove 14 ticket booth and purchased a ticket to a movie she’d never see.
Well, maybe Six would catch it later, after this was over. But not tonight.
