Page 17 of Billion-Dollar Ransom
“SO WHAT NOW?” Boo Schraeder asked.
“What do you mean, what now?” Two said.
Boo looked up at him with impatience on her pretty face, and Two resisted the urge to smile.
Must have been a real shock to roll out of a Beverly Hills salon and wind up handcuffed to a chair in an unfinished room with no windows, spartan furniture, and soundproofed walls and ceiling.
The overall effect was not unlike a backroom massage parlor in a bad part of town.
The minimal lighting covered up a whole lot of ugly.
Two’s eyes had adjusted to the near darkness. Boo’s had not. He could feel her straining to read his expression.
“I mean, how long are you planning on keeping me here? Wherever this is.”
“I have no plans,” Two said. “I’m just a guy waiting for a phone call.”
“You’re more than that,” Boo said. “You’re also a guy who knocks women unconscious and handcuffs them to chairs. What kind of pervert are you?”
“I’m not going to touch you. Not unless you cause me trouble.”
“And what happens when you get that call you’re waiting for?”
“Then I do what they tell me.”
“What do you think they’ll tell you to do?”
Two shrugged.
Boo sighed, more in boredom than frustration, Two thought.
Aw, too bad, rich girl. The fewer details he shared, the better.
The best policy was to simply parrot back what she already knew.
Right now, Mrs. Schraeder here was desperate to gain some kind of edge or insight into her predicament.
Her type of brat assumed there was always an answer to life’s problems. Two knew better.
Sometimes life handed you a raw deal, and you had no choice but to accept it. She’d learn that soon enough.
“Did you pick this location or did your boss?” she asked.
“Does that matter?”
“I’m trying to get a sense of how much you or your boss have thought this through. Do you even know who I am? I mean really, beyond my résumé, which you can probably find on LinkedIn.”
“You are Boo Schraeder, the fifth wife of billionaire Randolph Schraeder.”
“Ah, can’t help but notice the emphasis on the word billionaire . So this isn’t political. This is only about money.”
Two shrugged.
“Well, you or your boss made a slight miscalculation there. Do you know anything about fifth wives, my tall friend?”
“I’ve never been married,” Two said, then immediately regretted saying it. Granted, it was nothing major. A little over two billion people on this planet were single. But she had gotten him to give away something personal. The first crack in the wall.
“I’ll bet no woman was ever able to get inside your skull,” she replied. “That drives us nuts. It’s driving me nuts, and I’ve known you for only a few hours. And I spent most of that time unconscious.”
Two couldn’t help it—he laughed.
“ There you are,” Boo said. “I was beginning to think I’d been abducted by a cyborg. So here’s the thing with fifth wives: Every fifth wife knows she’s ultimately going to be replaced by a sixth wife. It’s practically a law of nature.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You also probably didn’t know that Mr. Schraeder is divorcing me. Hell, it’s impossible for you to have known that. I just found out myself.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“I’ll bet you are. But thank you. And honestly, it breaks my heart a little, even if I did know that wife number six was somewhere on the horizon. I know what everyone thought. Close friends, total strangers, the press—”
“What did they think?”
“That I married Randy for the money.”
Two stared at her, trying to figure out where she was going with this. He noted the use of the cute nickname “Randy.” Did anyone really address that old tycoon by anything other than “Randolph”? Or, more likely, “Mr. Schraeder, sir”? Even in the bedroom?
“Didn’t you?” he asked.
Boo smiled and shook her head. “No. I married Randy for the possibilities . He is one of the last freethinkers in this country and being in his orbit is intoxicating. The more time you spend with him, the more you start to think the world has no limits.”
“Except when it comes to marriage.”
“Except for that, yes,” Boo said quietly. “He has a restless heart to go along with that big restless mind.”
Two’s captive seemed genuinely sad, which surprised him. This was not what he had expected. Nor had he expected to say the two words that came tumbling out of his mouth now: “I’m sorry.”
Boo looked up at him with glistening eyes. “I’ll be okay,” she said with a smile. “I mean, if I don’t die here, handcuffed to a metal chair.”
Two was quiet.
“No response, huh?” Boo asked. “Well, we’re going to have to grapple with that eventuality sooner or later, because if this is about money, I don’t think you or your boss will ever see a dime. In fact, if you kill me, you’ll save Randy a lot of legal fees and paperwork.”
“I don’t know about that,” Two said. “If wife number five ends up dead, that might put a damper on your husband wooing wife number six.”
Now it was Boo’s turn to laugh—warm and infectious. Two couldn’t help but smile.
“So we’re in agreement,” Boo said. “Killing me would be bad for everyone. Especially me. It would ruin my chance at a fresh start.”
“I can see that,” Two said. “I’m all about fresh starts myself.”
Boo’s eyes widened. “ This is your idea of a fresh start?”
After a perfect moment of comic silence, both cracked up. It was like they were old college friends catching up over dinner and cocktails and enjoying some in-jokes instead of two strangers who were stuck together in the middle of a vast and complex kidnapping scheme.
“Like I said,” Two told her, “I’m just a guy waiting for a phone call.”