Page 36 of Billion-Dollar Ransom
“Ouch.”
“And I’m not sorry.”
“So you believe your entire life hinges on a random draw of cards? That there’s zero free choice or skill involved? I don’t know. Maybe youarean idiot.”
“Skill doesn’t matter when the game is rigged,” Two said. “If this world were evenremotelyfucking fair—”
Boo wasn’t smiling anymore. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. Denying it only makes it worse.”
“Let’s just drop it, okay? Are you hungry?”
Boo did not reply. She stared off into the darkness, lost in her own thoughts.
“Mrs. Schraeder?”
Two didn’t like this. He stood up from his chair and slowly approached the bed, stretching the stiffness out of his muscles as he moved.
“You’re right, by the way,” she said quietly. “About the unfairness of life.”
Two could make out the tears on her cheeks, and they were plain in her voice too. Maybe this was part of a game, another way to throw him off balance. But somehow, Two didn’t think so. His bullshit detector was a highly sensitive instrument, and the needle wasn’t twitching even slightly.
“I tried my best to be a good wife,” she said. “But I was either too much or not enough.”
And before he knew what he was doing—before he could even weigh the pros and cons of this crazy-stupid impulse—the kidnapper found himself kissing his abductee.
The same beautiful woman who, if it came down to it, he had agreed to kill.
CHAPTER 38
Thursday, 1:05 p.m.
FIVE HAD LIVED on high alert since he was a kid.
Down in TJ, it was practically a requirement. If someone decided to mess with you, you needed to know long before he made the first move. Then you could prepare your defense or maybe even a preemptive strike. Either way, the guy would learn pretty quick that you were not one to be messed with.
Tyler Schraeder was definitely about to mess with Five.
Ever since Five had shown Tyler and Cass to their locked room, Tyler had been exhibitingallthe signs: The sudden heat in his eyes. The change in breathing. The tension in his muscles, even though he clearly assumed he was projecting the opposite—cool, utter calm.
Yeah, there was no doubt Rich Kid Tyler had all kinds of action-movie nonsense rattling around in his skull.
Five double-locked the door behind them and prepared himself.
From the dossier that One had provided, Five knew that Tyler Schraeder had extensive martial arts training. Krav Maga. Brazilian jujitsu. Kickboxing. Wing Chun. And so on. If it was trendy for even a Hollywood minute, Tyler had studied it. He didn’t want to be one of those stuffed-shirt producers. He liked to play around with the actors and the stunt guys.
But as far as anyone knew, Tyler Schraeder had never been in anactualfight.
This became painfully clear to Five when Tyler threw the first punch, which was intended to be devastating. The guy probably thought he was following his version of street rules: Hit first and hit hard enough to end the fight then and there.
Problem was, Tyler was focused on the strength of the punch rather than the stealth of it. The blow was ridiculously telegraphed, to the point where Tyler should have said:Hey, I’m going to try to hit you really, really hard.That might have actually surprised Five.
Instead, Five pivoted a few inches, and Tyler’s fist sailed harmlessly past his face. The momentum carried him forward and he stumbled over his own feet. Five had all the time in the world to select his own move. He opted to deliver a jab powerful enough to crack a rib. Which, judging from the sound of the blow when he landed it, did just that.
Tyler fell to his knees, already wheezing.
