The Iron Tiara: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  "I'm going to bring you inside and introduce you to my wife. She was in an accident two weeks ago," he lied. "You will not say anything that upsets her."

  Christy looked up and nodded.

  He opened the door and stepped aside so both women could walk inside the room. He followed and shut the door behind them. Kit wasn't on the sofa; the only reminder that she'd been there moments earlier was her blanket and Bible. Grizz motioned to a seat at the other end of the couch, and Christy sat down. Moe turned Grizz's desk chair around and sat so she was facing the room.

  Christy surveyed the tiny but stylishly furnished living space and tried to imagine the woman who was married to the green-eyed monstrous man. She conjured up an image of a tattoo-riddled, hard-lived woman with ratty hair and bad skin. Her thoughts were interrupted when the telephone rang. She heard a woman's voice call out from another room.

  "Is anybody out there?"

  "I've got it, baby," he said as he stood and headed for the small kitchen. Christy was certain she detected affection in his tone.

  "Yeah?" he answered gruffly, and after a beat, "I have something that belongs to you."

  After hanging up and returning to the living space, Christy watched as the big man perched on the end of a recliner.

  "Was that Anthony who called?" she asked quietly.

  He nodded.

  "So, you're ransoming me back to him?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  Before he could answer, they were interrupted.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you came in. I had to use the bathroom. I'm Kit."

  Christy's jaw almost hit her chest when a young and pretty brown-haired woman walked into the room. She was the total opposite of what Christy had imagined. Christy stood as the woman approached her, her right hand outstretched and her smile sincere. It was obvious that she'd been in an accident. An accident that must've done a number on her face. The bruises were fading, but the amount of discoloring made it obvious that her injuries had been serious. There were thin red lines on her lip and cheek. She must've had stitches removed recently, Christy thought. There was a cast on her left wrist.

  "I'm Christy," she said, her voice a little shaky.

  "We need to get some ice on your face," Kit told her. "Your nose and cheek look puffy. And you've already got a giant knot on your forehead," she continued, squinting like she felt Christy’s pain.

  Kit spun around to head back to the kitchen when Grizz stood and grabbed her arm. "Moe can get it," he told his wife, his deep voice resonating throughout the small living space.

  "I can get it, Grizz," she told him.

  "Grizz?" Christy interrupted, her tone one of bewilderment. "You're Grizz?"

  "You know each other?" Kit asked sweetly as Grizz guided her to the sofa. Moe had already jumped up and was heading for the kitchen.

  Christy didn't miss the grimace of pain when Kit took a seat at the other end of the couch. She also didn't miss the look of tenderness from Grizz when he stood and helped his wife arrange her blanket. He took the Bible from her and laid it on the coffee table.

  "No. We've never met," she told Kit. "I've heard Anthony mention his name." Grizz had leaned over to lay Kit's Bible down and looked up meeting Christy's eyes. Just like in Anthony's spare room, an unspoken agreement passed between them and Christy knew that she wouldn't be going into any details about her situation with Anthony Bear.

  "You're a friend of Anthony's?" Kit asked, her eyes lighting up.

  "Yes," Christy said with a timid smile. The woman was having a calming effect on her.

  "I see you're an AC/DC fan too," Kit commented.

  Christy wasn't exactly sure what she meant until Kit nodded at her shirt and said, "Moe loves AC/DC. She has one exactly like it.”

  Christy knew that Grizz hadn't shared with his wife that her shirt had practically been ripped from her body. Kit didn't know she was wearing Moe's T-shirt. She nodded and smiled at the woman.

  Grizz leaned back in his recliner as Kit engaged Christy Chapman in conversation. He was amazed at the calming effect his wife had on the woman. He'd noticed Christy’s body language relax as Kit treated her like a long-lost friend. He was so proud of Kit. His young wife had been beaten, raped and left for dead two weeks ago, but her first concern was for the woman who now sat in their living room. He was certain that Christy was captivated by Kit's loving and kind nature and had temporarily forgotten the circumstances that had brought her to the Glades Motel and what had happened just outside their door. They talked about everything from Fleetwood Mac to Masterpiece Theatre and he had to stifle a yawn more than once. Sometime during the course of the next hour, Moe had taken it upon herself to offer drinks and snacks and it wasn't too long before Grizz insisted that his wife take something for her pain.

  It didn't take long for Christy's heartbeat to return to normal. She found the ice pack soothing and gratefully accepted the drink that Moe wordlessly offered. She felt calm and safe in this small group's presence. She had to admit, it was the most unusual group of people she'd ever met, but she felt no threat and sincerely enjoyed talking to Kit. She noticed that even though Kit addressed Moe more than once, Moe never answered. She nodded or shook her head, but never said a word. Christy had a difficult time reconciling the scary man she'd met outside with the man who now gazed at his wife with such tenderness it almost caused an ache in her own heart. She'd never once allowed herself to wonder what it would feel like to have a man look at her that way. Her heart yearned for something that had been buried for so long, her brain wouldn't let her conscious mind recognize it. And when she did, the impact to her heart was deep. Love. She wanted to be loved.

  Her thoughts drifted as she tried to bring a memory to the surface. A memory of being held in huge, strong arms while soothing words of comfort she didn't recognize were whispered in her ear. A feeling of complete and total security. A place where something deep inside told her she belonged.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Grizz stood abruptly.

  "Bear's here."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Naples and Fort Lauderdale, Florida 1978

  Two Hours Earlier

  After tossing Christy's blank check back on his desk, Anthony picked up the phone and called Alexander.

  “I don’t care if the police are looking for her. I don’t care about the lie we’re fabricating for the other sharks. I want it known that Christy Chapman is mine and if anybody so much as touches a hair on her head I will skin them alive,” Anthony said through gritted teeth.

  Satisfied that X would get the word out, Anthony went outside and quickly changed the tire on his truck. He returned to his office and sat at his desk. He thought carefully about his next course of action. He wanted to be out there searching for Christy, but he also wanted to be near his phone. He knew that Detective Cochran would have already broadcasted Christy's vehicle and possible destination. Anthony could only hope that his men found her first and when they did, they didn't scare her. They had explicit orders to quietly detain her and contact him or X.

  His eyes wandered to the blank check that he'd carelessly tossed aside as he swallowed against an ache that had formed in his throat and made its way down to his heart. When had this become about the woman and not the massive debt Van owed him? The answer was obvious. The moment she'd offered to pay him and he refused. The shrill ring of the phone broke his thoughts and he hastily grabbed the receiver.

  "Yeah?" he gruffly answered.

  It was his cleaning lady, Lourdes. She explained that her granddaughter's scheduled Cesarean had been moved up and instead of coming in a couple days, she wanted to know if she could clean Anthony's house later that evening. She apologized for the last-minute change. His first instinct was to tell her that she didn't need to come at all, but an idea had formed and he told her it would be fine. He might need her.

  He headed for his bedroom and retrieved Christy's suitcase from the bed. He also went to the bathroom and grabbed the spare toothbr
ush, the only evidence that he'd had a guest. He headed for his huge walk-in closet and closed the door behind him. After sliding some clothes to the side, he released a paneled wall and used a keypad to unlock a heavy sliding door. The home's former occupant had created a hidden room. It was sandwiched between the master and guest bathrooms, which gave the illusion of being larger than they actually were, and the only way to access it was from his closet. Anthony glanced at the small but accommodating living space. On the left wall was a twin bed. A telephone that was hooked up to the same untraceable line as the one in his spare room sat on a small nightstand. A sink and toilet were situated in the far-right corner. The wall opposite the bed had a small under-the-counter refrigerator with a toaster oven and several television monitors sitting across the expanse of the countertop. With the flip of a switch, the room's occupant could monitor activity inside his home and on the property. There were shelves going as high as the ceiling and they stocked everything from canned goods, medicine and toilet paper to books, magazines and toiletries. The wall above the bed housed every weapon and ammunition imaginable. He tossed Christy's suitcase, her toothbrush and the blank check on the bed and returned to his office.

  He paced for the next thirty minutes and only stopped when he heard Lourdes pull up. After thanking him for letting her come at night, he explained that he would be joining the search for a missing friend. He also instructed his cleaning lady to let anyone who might show up looking for his friend to look through his house. Her brows drew together at the comment, and she wanted to make sure she understood him correctly.

  "You are sure, Mr. Anthony?" she questioned.

  "Yes, I'm sure," he told her. "I have nothing to hide. If they ask if they can look around, let them. You can see for yourself she's not here."

  He'd already hidden the only evidence of Christy being in his home and he was certain that Lourdes' cleaning skills would remove any trace evidence. Of course, he didn't think it would come to that. If anything, Detective Cochran might send someone over to be sure he didn't have her. And if the other people who were out searching had the guts to show up at his house, so be it. The sooner he squelched any rumors of them being together, the better. It would more than likely dissuade anyone from showing up when he finally did bring her back. And he had every intention of getting Christy Chapman back.

  He rubbed his hand down his face and wondered how much time had passed. His pager went off and, recognizing the number, he immediately dialed it.

  Apparently, Christy had somehow ended up at the Glades Motel. He called Alexander and told him where to meet him. They would be taking a trip across the Alley.

  Christy was surprised that Grizz knew when Anthony had arrived at the motel. Even with her supersonic hearing she never heard a vehicle. But then again, she'd taken more than one blow to her head in the last forty-eight hours. Maybe her hearing wasn't as up to snuff as it normally was.

  Two raps at the door and it flung open. Anthony Bear's commanding presence seemed to swallow up the room as he looked from Grizz to Kit, his eyes finally landing on Christy. His expression went from one of relief at knowing she was safe to an intense anger when he saw the swelling on her cheek and nose. Grizz, who was already standing, motioned for Anthony to step back outside. He didn't want Kit—who'd been desperately battling being taken under by sleep from her pain medication—to become upset by what he needed to tell Anthony.

  Grizz closed the door behind him and pointed across the motel parking lot to the pit where a solitary figure sat in a lawn chair in front of a dying fire. The bright red glow from the end of Carney's cigarette was visible.

  "Is that the guy who did that to her face?" Anthony asked as he calmly gestured toward the man in the lawn chair.

  Grizz nodded. "I stopped him, but I didn't touch him. Wasn't sure what you wanted done with him, if anything."

  Anthony nodded slowly and said to X without looking at him, "Get my machete from the truck and meet me behind the motel."

  "Does she mean that much to you?" Grizz asked.

  "Yeah, she does," Anthony answered as he walked toward Carney.

  After Grizz and the men walked outside, Christy tucked her hair behind her ear and swallowed nervously. She looked from Moe to Kit and said, "Is there any way you can help me?"

  Kit blinked at her, not sure if she heard Christy right. The pain medication was starting to take its toll. She tried to sit up straight, but the effort was too much. "Help you? How?" she almost whispered.

  "Can you help me escape? Let me call someone else to come get me?" Christy bit her lip as if in thought. "Oh, I don't know what I'm asking. I'm so confused." Who would I call to come get me? she thought, her mind muddled.

  "Escape from Anthony?" Kit asked groggily.

  "Yes," Christy replied. "I mean, no!" She let out a deep breath and tried to explain. "It's not Anthony. It's my stepfather, Van Chapman. He owes a lot of people money and I'm in danger. And if I'm in danger, I'm putting Anthony in danger too. It's best for everybody if I just go away. And I can pay. I have money to—"

  Her words died mid-sentence as Grizz opened the door and walked in.

  "Bear will be in for you in a few minutes," he told Christy.

  Christy jumped up and asked to use the bathroom.

  "Through the bedroom," Grizz said, nodding in that direction.

  Ignoring Kit and Moe's stares, Christy headed for the bathroom. Once inside, she shut the door behind her and turned on the light. She looked in the mirror and stared at her reflection, barely recognizing the battered woman who stared back. What am I doing?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of men's voices. She looked toward the shower stall and noticed a high window to the left of it. It was a louver-style window, already open about an inch. She immediately recognized Anthony's voice. Walking to the window she stood on her tiptoes to see out, but it was too high. She pressed her cheek against the cool tile and listened.

  "I didn't rape her. I swear I didn't rape her!" a man cried.

  Anthony stood over the guy he'd shoved to his knees. He slowly removed his shirt and tossed it to X who caught it with one hand. He didn't bring a spare and didn't want blood splatter all over him.

  "You were going to," Anthony said calmly.

  "But I didn't," Carney replied in a shaky voice.

  "I saw what you did to her face. You should be thanking me for not doing to you what I should do to you for touching her. If I had more time you'd be begging to be put out of your misery."

  Misunderstanding Anthony's comment and thinking he was only going to get a reprimand, the man looked up warily at Anthony. "Thank you?" came Carney's strangled reply. His fear had caused a ball of phlegm to form in his throat and he could barely speak without choking.

  "You're welcome," was all Anthony said.

  Christy heard a sound she didn't recognize. It sounded like a whoosh followed seconds later by a splash.

  "Two kills in two days. That's almost a record for you, Bear," X said, his comment brokering no unanswered questions.

  "There'll be more than that if anyone touches my woman again," Anthony said as he threw his machete on the ground. He used his foot to roll Carney's body toward the swamp where his head had landed.

  "She's your woman now?" X asked him as he threw his shirt back at him. He picked up the machete and dipped it in the water before drying it on his pants leg.

  "Yeah, she's my woman now. Make sure everybody knows it," Anthony said as he pulled his shirt over his head.

  “And when did that happen?” X asked, his tone filled with curiosity and quite honestly, disbelief.

  “This morning,” Anthony called over his shoulder as he headed for unit four to collect his lady.

  Christy knew she should have been shocked. She was certain she'd heard a man die and she knew she should have been shaken and frightened, but she'd never felt safer in her life. It didn’t make sense, but her exhaustion caused her to cling to it. She turned off the bathroom light and head
ed back to the small living room. Grizz stood when she approached. Seconds later, the door opened and Anthony strode in. He didn't say anything, just extended his hand toward Christy. She started to walk his way and broke into a run, throwing herself into his huge arms. He held her tightly as he looked over her head at Grizz, and then Kit.

  "Thank you for taking care of her. X will get her car back to Naples. I'll be in touch," he said, and left before anyone could reply.

  Moe knew that it was time for her to leave and she followed Anthony and Christy out the door.

  Grizz walked toward his wife who was half asleep.

  "There's a lot more going on here than what you told me," she remarked as he pulled her into a standing position.

  "I know, Kitten. I'll tell you tomorrow. You need to get some sleep." He smiled.

  "And I want you to tell me everything," she added, stifling a yawn.

  "I will, honey," he told her as he took her hand and led her back to the bedroom.

  He'd tucked her in and bent down to kiss her forehead when she asked him a question.

  "Baked, broiled, sautéed, barbequed?"

  "Huh? Are you dreaming, Kit?" he quietly asked her.

  "No, I'm wondering how you want your shoe cooked?" Her voice was sleepy but playful.

  "My shoe?" he asked, as he sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. His massive weight caused her to roll toward him.

  "When I ran away from you a couple years ago and you alerted Anthony that I might head over the Alley." Her words started to slur. "I asked you what would've happened to me if he found me, and you told me he would've returned me to you. You also said you would've done the same thing for him but it would never come to that. Do you remember having that conversation?" she asked, groggily.

  "Yeah," he answered a little too quickly. "No, not really," he admitted.

  "You told me that if Anthony ever fell in love you would eat your shoe. I'm wondering how you want it served up?"