Page 122 of Lion’s Den

He snorted. “We aren’t boy scouts, and I’m not in a joking mood. You bet he’s serious.”

“But why?”

Trey looked at her a moment. “I guess it doesn’t matter if you know the truth. Because of Lyons, the boss’ uncle went to prison, where he died. His uncle raised him. So, you bet Mr. Simpson wants Lyons dead.”

She lapsed into silence, thinking about Trey’s information, especially the first part. The only reason it wouldn’t matter that Sedona knew the truth was if Simpson planned to kill her after the mission ended.

Tears burned her eyes. How could Trey mention that without seeming the least bit remorseful? He didn’t care if Sedona lived or died. She glanced around at the other guards near her. They were like Trey. None of them cared about anything except following orders.

Sedona wiped the tears from her cheeks and studied the castle. The beautiful, stately home was enormous, hinting at an earlier time in English history when castles were a sign of wealth and class.

She wished Simpson had given her more time to study the layout of the home. If Sedona escaped, she would have to rely on her instincts to get her out of the castle before Simpson’s henchmen caught and killed her.

When she escaped, not if, Sedona needed a plan to stay out of the hands of the enemy. She made a face. Really? Simple was the name of the game. Complicated plans would take too long and end in her death. Not acceptable.

When the gunfire slowed, Sedona glanced around. The men close by came out from behind cover and gathered near Simpson as though awaiting orders.

She looked at Trey. “What happened? Why did they stop?”

He gripped her upper arm again. “We won. Come on. It’s time to keep your promise to the boss. Trust me when I say you won’t like it if you let him down.”

“I’ve got news for you, buddy. I won’t like it if I let myself down because I’ll be dead. Under the circumstances, I’m more concerned about falling one hundred feet because of a tiny misstep than what your boss thinks.”

Trey shoved her back against another tree and leaned in close. “You should be worried about him, lady. He can make your life or death miserable. The boss knows at least a hundred ways to kill a person.”

“Is he planning to kill me?”

“Don’t ask.” Trey got her moving again and hustled her toward the castle’s front door. “Just focus on the job, okay? One foot in front of the other, and don’t look down.”

“Will you spot me?” Like him waiting below to catch her would do any good.

“I guess I could do that. Sure.”

“Thanks.” Sedona didn’t know what good it would do to have a guard in her corner, but she wouldn’t waste an opportunity that might save her life.

Soon, Trey rushed her up the stairs to the porch and the front door. He typed in a code and the tumblers shifted. He twisted the knob and shoved the door open so hard that the knob left an indent in the wall.

“How did you know the code?” Sedona asked. “You said Mr. Lyons is paranoid about security.”

“I’m friends with a maid.”

His smug smile gave her a pretty good idea of what kind of friends they were. “I’m sorry I asked.” As careful as Mr. Lyons was said to be, all his security measures came to naught because of a maid sucked into a relationship with the wrong man.

Trey chuckled. “You’re funny.”

He wasn’t. Sedona felt sorry for the misguided maid.

Trey looked at one of his friends and inclined his head toward the doorway, then drew Sedona back a couple of steps. The friend who looked about the same age as Eddie walked into the home with his weapon up and ready. Six more men followed him inside.

Five minutes later, the young man returned. “All clear, sir.”

“Good. Tell Mr. Simpson.”

Soon, Simpson strode up the stairs and into the home, surrounded by one of his security teams. Trey and Sedona fell into step behind him and his entourage.

To Sedona, the massive home was a maze of intersecting corridors and staircases. The group walked for at least ten minutes before they walked through a doorway into an enormous circular room.

She glanced up and stared at the one obstacle between her and freedom. A four-inch beam stretched from one wall to the other side of the room. When the ground seemed to move under her feet, Sedona hastily looked down, dismayed to find the floor unmoving. That wasn’t a good sign. If she had an episode of benign paroxysmal positional vertigo on that beam, she would fall to her death.