Chapter 2 - The Underworld Arrives
Down on the main floor, the heavy glass double doors of Lake View Grand’s grand VIP entrance shattered violently inward.
A convoy of four matte-black armored SUVs screeched to a halt across the pedestrian plaza, tires smoking against the decorative brickwork. Before the security guards could reach for their batons, six imposing men in dark Italian wool overcoats stepped out, moving with military precision to form a protective perimeter around the entrance.
Then Kieran Ashford stepped through the doorway.
He wore an unbuttoned charcoal cashmere coat over a tailored three-piece suit. He didn't run. He didn't shout. But the raw, suffocating aura of power radiating from him silenced the shouting crowd within seconds. His jaw was set like carved granite, his dark eyes sweeping across the cavernous indoor park until they locked onto the yellow hazard lights blinking at the top of the coaster track.
Behind him, Bryce pushed past the panicked floor manager, holding a tactical radio scanner.
"Mr. Ashford," Harris stammered, rushing forward as he recognized the billionaire underworld boss whose holding company secretly owned forty percent of the facility's debt notes. "We have the situation completely under control! The fire department—"
Kieran didn't stop walking. He didn't even look at Harris.
Bryce casually caught Harris by the lapel of his blazer, shoving him backward against an information kiosk with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. "Shut your mouth," Bryce said in a low, deadly growl. "If a single hair on Jolene Ashford's head is harmed, you won't survive the night to see the police report."
Kieran stopped dead in the center of the atrium floor, looking up at the high loop.
Eighty feet above, his younger sister was pinned inside the cockpit of the tilting car. The front wheels were partially lifted off the tubular track, hanging over empty space. But right beside the carriage, balanced precariously on a twelve-inch-wide maintenance ledge with nothing beneath her except thin air, stood a solitary figure in a navy mechanic’s jumpsuit.
"Who is that on the catwalk?" Kieran demanded. His voice was dangerously quiet, sending a chill through every security guard within earshot.
Harris, clutching his bruised chest, scrambled to his feet. "That's... that's Lawson. A night-shift technician. She ignored my orders! I told her to wait for the emergency crews! She went up there without authorization!"
"She's the only one with the guts to move," Kieran muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched the slender woman hook her harness around the coaster's wheel assembly.
Up on the high iron, Meredith reached the carriage. The wind whipped her loose hair across her face, but her fingers remained utterly steady as she pulled a flashlight and a heavy crowbar from her gear bag.
"Listen to me," Meredith told Jolene, leaning over the fiberglass shell of the car. "The primary electrical solenoid burned out when the safety brake caught. That's why the release button on the dash is dead. The harness is locked by a manual bypass pin underneath the carriage floor."
"Is it going to fall?" Jolene cried out, shivering uncontrollably. "Every time I move my feet, the whole track shudders!"
"The safety dog on the chain lift is holding, but only on two teeth," Meredith answered with blunt honesty. "If you panic and throw your weight, you might shear the remaining bolt. I need you to stay completely still while I slide under the front chassis to trip the mechanical valve."
"You're going underneath?" Jolene asked, staring at the sheer eighty-foot drop beneath the carriage. "There's no floor under there!"
"I've got a harness," Meredith said, though she knew full well that if the coaster car slipped from the track, the shock-load would snap her safety lanyard like a cotton thread. "Look at my eyes. What's your name?"
May you like
"Jolene," she whispered through chattering teeth.
"Alright, Jolene. My name is Meredith. I built this track three years ago when the contractor ran out of union funds. I know every weld on this iron. I’m not letting you drop. Keep your eyes on my tool bag and count backwards from one hundred."
