Page 119 of Lion’s Den

“Time to go.” Trey grabbed Sedona’s arm and hauled her to her feet. “We’re wasting time.”

Between one breath and the next, Sedona and the thugs were moving down the hallway at a fast clip. Trey propelled her into the kitchen and shoved her into a seat. “Stay right here, or else.”

A moment later, Simpson walked into the room with a roll of paper under his arm. “I trust you see the importance of cooperating, Miss Hart.”

“You made your point, beating up on two defenseless teenagers. Was that really necessary?”

“Whatever does the job. Now, here are blueprints for a home close by.” Simpson unrolled the schematics and pointed at one particular feature. “I want you to help me get into this tower suite. With your background, it should be a piece of cake.”

Sedona looked at the schematic, saw the height, and felt blood drain from her face. “Was the tower built to specs?”

He smiled. “Shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Mr. Simpson, those towers are one hundred and forty feet tall.”

He scowled. “High-wire performances can be up to thirteen hundred feet in the air. This should be a breeze for you.”

“While that’s true, most high-wire acts are performed between twenty and fifty feet off the ground.” She jabbed a finger at the schematics. “This is nearly one hundred feet, Mr. Simpson.”

His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t be telling me no, would you, Miss Hart? You understand what happens to those teenagers if you refuse the job.”

“Why do you want inside this tower suite so badly?”

“The owner of this house is a wealthy, paranoid man hiding from his enemies, and he’s built a hyper-secure vertical safe zone inside his house.” He tapped the top of the tower. “His private quarters are at the top of this tower. I want to get inside those quarters.”

“Then why do you need me? Knock on the door of the main house or make an appointment.” She did not want to do this. Just the thought of walking a high-wire one hundred feet off the floor without a net made her break out in a cold sweat.

Before she could suck in a breath, Simpson brandished a knife from somewhere, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and yanked her head back. He pressed the blade to her throat. “You are not the only high-wire talent in this area, Miss Hart. You are, however, the most convenient. If you continue to be a problem, I will end you and pick up another high-wire artist. Do you understand my meaning, my dear?”

“Yes,” she said, voice tight.

“Excellent. I knew you could be reasoned with, especially if your young friends’ lives are at stake as well.”

“I still want to know why you need me.” She motioned to the schematic. “They built a stairwell to his private quarters.”

He inclined his head. “They did, indeed. The catch is, once the owner is safely inside his suite of rooms at the top of the tower, the stairs move into the wall. Only the owner can trigger the stairs by either a control panel or a remote control.”

She frowned. Was this guy nuts? “How can I help you with that?”

“You, my dear, will activate the stairs by the control panel in the ceiling access point.”

“What do you want me to get for you in the suite?” What was so valuable that Simpson would risk capture and exposure just to have access to the owner’s suite? A painting, jewelry, gold? “What is so important?”

“You don’t need to know. Nothing matters except that you obey my orders. If you don’t, you are expendable, and so are your young friends.”

She held up her hand. “I understand, Mr. Simpson. Now, it’s your turn to understand something as well.”

He stilled, much like a dangerous predator preparing to pounce on its prey. “Be very careful, Miss Hart.”

Sedona stood. “I left high-wire performances for more than one reason.”

“Yes, yes. You left the circus behind to attend college. If there is another reason, tell me quickly, please. We have a schedule to keep.”

“I have BPPV.”

Simpson frowned. “What is that?”

“Benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. The tiny calcium crystals in my inner ear shift into the wrong canal and confuse my brain’s sense of motion and my balance. I can have an episode at any time. I can’t predict it, nor can I prevent it. The episodes so far last only seconds.” Sedona pointed to the schematic. “But at that height, an episode could kill me. The important fact is that I no longer trust my body. That’s why I’m not performing with the circus.”