Page 106 of Billion-Dollar Ransom
“Go get her, Nick,” Mike said. “I’ll be okay.”
“No. I have no idea how bad this is—there’s blood everywhere.”
“You can’t let her get away. And by the way, ow .”
“Shut up and stop being so noble. We’ve got a tracker in the Porsche, remember? I’ll call it in and have someone scoop her up.”
“You think they’ll get her before she has the chance to stash the jewels and lawyer up?
Come on. Boo Schraeder was smart enough to kidnap herself and fool everybody, including her billionaire husband.
You think she hasn’t thought out her escape in absurd detail?
That bitch has enough money to relocate to Mars if she wants to. You know this is our only shot at her.”
Nicky sighed. “God, I hate it when you’re right.”
“And I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” Mike said. “Just come back for me after, okay?”
“Keep pressure on it. Can you still use your hand to call this in?”
“Go already!”
So Nicky went.
The Escalade roared across the wildly uneven desert floor. They had laid asphalt down on some of the planned neighborhood but not nearly enough. This was rough ground, and Nicky’s vehicle bounced so hard, her teeth hurt.
But Boo Schraeder was blazing the same path.
Nicky could still follow the Porsche’s movements on her dash-mounted phone.
Boo was about a mile ahead. Nicky needed to close that gap.
She gritted her teeth and stomped down on the accelerator.
The speedometer climbed to eighty and then beyond.
The Escalade was rocking so hard on the terrain, she felt like it was about to achieve liftoff.
At least the Escalade was a sturdy vehicle built for abuse; the Porsche was a far more delicate piece of machinery.
Nicky could see it now, just ahead of her, bouncing along the tightly packed sand and through the gnarled scrub, its driver fighting hard to stay in control and make it back to the 138.
But if Boo did reach the smooth asphalt of the highway with her car intact, Nicky’s Escalade would have no chance of catching up to her. Boo truly would vanish forever.
Nicky pressed the accelerator to the floor, stressing the Escalade’s shocks and suspension system to the breaking point.
She also hit the power window button and steered slightly closer toward the Porsche.
The speedometer struggled up past one hundred.
Nicky pulled her gun, aimed it out the open window, and emptied her entire clip.
Boom went one of the Porsche’s tires, and now Boo’s car was spinning out of control.
The sand and dust that had been kicked up obscured Nicky’s view. She braked hard and fast when she reached the crash site to avoid adding the Escalade to the wreckage.
The Porsche had plowed into one of the retaining walls of the old Llano del Rio commune meetinghouse. The front was destroyed, the windshield blown out.
But Boo Schraeder was struggling to free herself from the driver’s seat, pulling on the seat belt, which was jammed.
Nicky approached, gun in hand. It was empty, but hopefully Boo hadn’t been counting bullets.
“Hands on the wheel where I can see them, Mrs. Schraeder,” Nicky said. “I’m going to call you an ambulance.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in a hundred million dollars’ worth of rare gemstones, would you?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Nicky took a few steps closer. She could see Boo Schraeder was dazed, blood trickling from her forehead.
“He’s a monster, you know,” said Boo quietly, not turning to face Nicky. “He thinks he can do whatever he wants.”
“I can see that,” Nicky said. “I’ve met your husband.”
Now Boo turned and locked eyes with Nicky. “He’s not even living in our reality anymore. He’s used his billions to build a nice safe bubble, and he thinks the world is his sandbox, that he can move people around like toys. I needed to teach him a lesson.”
“I’m not sure he’s the kind who will ever learn.”
“Boy, did you nail it.” A laugh escaped from Boo’s throat—one that was utterly devoid of humor. “How did you catch us, anyway? Did you realize Jeff was the mole?”
“That was part of it.”
“What was the other part?”
“I had a mole of my own,” Nicky Gordon said.