The Iron Tiara: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  He approached the phone on his desk and thought about Christy and all the emotions she'd managed to stir inside of him. Emotions he didn't know existed until she drove up to the Chapman mansion in her borrowed Corvette. Sure, he'd understood feelings like hate, greed, and bias. Even indifference. He never once cared what anybody thought about him. But the thought that Christy feared him enough to risk driving away brought an ache to his chest that he'd not felt since the day he decided to run away from his uncle's home so many years ago. Earlier today, he tried to avoid the thought that she'd gotten under his skin. It was only hours later and he was already admitting that she was taking up space in his heart, too.

  He reached for the phone and noticed what was propped up against it. A blank check made out to Anthony Bear and signed by Christy Chapman.

  Suddenly, it dawned on him that no amount of money could pay for what he really wanted.

  And what he really wanted was Christy Chapman.

  He spun around and gazed out his office window. "Why’d you run, Princess? Where are you going?"

  Chapter Fifteen

  Naples, Florida 1978

  Pressing on the accelerator, Christy pushed the limits of her little car and didn't stop checking the rearview mirror until she'd finally turned off the long winding road that led away from Anthony's lonely ranch house. She'd been subconsciously calculating her options and supposed that Detective Cochran had broadcasted an alert for her white Rabbit. And more than likely, Anthony would do the same. They would be looking north of Naples. She made a quick and last-minute decision to head over the Alley to the east coast of Florida. She knew her bank had branches over there. She would hit up a store for some hair dye and clothes, get a hotel room and when the banks opened in the morning she would withdraw some money. She’d ditch her car and get a cab to a small private airport tomorrow. Once there, she would anonymously charter a jet. She was certain that the right amount of cash paid to the right pilot would guarantee her privacy. She wasn't sure where she would go, but she had the hour and a half drive over the Alley to think about it.

  It was dark now, and she was grateful the ominous clouds that had threatened at Anthony's hadn't followed her. She used the drive to reflect on the man she'd left behind and her decision to leave him a signed blank check. She didn't know how much Van owed Anthony, but she secretly hoped there was enough in her account to cover it. She didn't want Anthony coming after her. At least that's what she told herself.

  She turned on her radio and frowned when she heard The Bee Gees "How Deep Is Your Love." She switched stations and "Heard It in a Love Song" floated through the speakers. I'm not in the mood to hear love songs! she screamed in her head. She went through three more stations rejecting each one before finally deciding to try her favorite oldies station. “Stop! In the Name of Love” was just finishing up and was immediately followed by Paul Revere & the Raiders “Indian Reservation.”

  “Seriously?” she asked herself out loud looking heavenward. Turning off her radio she tried to concentrate on the road and block any thoughts of the man whose dark eyes haunted her. The man she'd tried to placate with a blank check. The man whose stare rivaled the menacing clouds she’d escaped. The man who'd held her fevered body in a cold shower. Who'd taken her to see her newborn nephew and had eaten lunch with her extended family. Who'd taken her to Abby's grave.

  She hmphed when she remembered he was protecting his investment. He was a killer who did what needed doing. She was nothing more than another job to him. She knew it was true, but couldn't deny there was a longing in her soul that for a millisecond of time, convinced her that she saw something in his eyes hinting it could be more. Shaking off the ridiculous notion, she grabbed her Fleetwood Mac tape and shoved it in the eight-track player and turned up the volume. "Over My Head" blasted through the speakers. Yes, I am, she thought as she sped through the murky night.

  It wasn't until she was about twenty miles from exiting Alligator Alley that she noticed the fuel light. She was running low, but was certain she could make it. There had to be a gas station at the end of the Alley. She was more than disappointed after discovering she was wrong and a small sense of panic started to seep in. It was pitch black and there wasn't a headlight in sight. Taking a calming breath, she told herself she would drive as far as possible, walk or hitch to the closest gas station and either get a ride back to her car or to a hotel.

  The little car puttered along as far as it could and she pulled off the side of the road when it finally ran out of gas. She gathered her few belongings, locked her car and started walking. Two cars passed her and she held out her thumb to hitch a ride, praying that it wouldn't be with the wrong person, but neither stopped. It was so dark now that the night seemed to close in around her, bringing with it fear and doubt about her hasty decision to leave. Never one to give up and left with no choice, she pressed on.

  In less than two miles, she came upon an old motel. It was on the opposite side of the road and even though the sign wasn't illuminated, she could see there were rooms with lights on. They probably turn off their marquee light when they're full, she thought to herself. She crossed the road and approached the entrance with a lighter step. She would ask to use a phone, call a cab and be on her way. She was encouraged when she heard laughter and music and saw a bonfire. Letting out a sigh of relief that she'd stumbled on what seemed to be a fun crowd, she walked a little faster, grateful that she had found the Glades Motel.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fort Lauderdale, Florida 1978

  Moe sat in her usual place in front of the fire at the Glades Motel and stared into it, ignoring the profanity and obscene expletives that were being exchanged by the men hanging around the blaze. She was secretly grateful that nobody asked for sex from her tonight. At least they hadn’t yet. She wanted to, needed to wallow in her pain alone. It had been almost two weeks since Kit, Grizz's wife, had been brutally attacked. Moe had caught the brunt of Grizz’s anger when it was discovered that the dogs he'd had for Kit's protection had been locked in Moe's room for the night. She slowly raised her head and focused on the number four that was displayed on Grizz and Kit's unit. Her guilt was overwhelming, especially since she was harboring a huge secret. One she knew would cost her her life if Grizz ever found out.

  Hooting and hollering broke the spell and she looked up to see a short blonde woman cautiously approach the group. It was a small crowd, only four or five men, and Moe didn't like them. There were only a few regulars she felt safe with, but none of them were around. Grunt had moved out and was living with his girlfriend in a condo on the beach. Chowder had taken Chicky to have a few drinks and shoot pool at one of the bars Grizz owned, Razor’s. Fess was out of town at a teaching conference. Blue was home having dinner with his family. Grizz and Kit were in their unit. Grizz hadn't left Kit's side for two weeks.

  Moe eyed the woman and immediately knew she'd stumbled on the Glades Motel by accident. She was probably a lost motorist or a hitchhiker who'd been dropped off. Moe recognized the look of sheer panic on the woman's face when she noticed the motorcycles and the logo on one of the leather jackets that was draped on the back of a lawn chair. The patch identified it as one of South Florida's most deadly motorcycle clubs. The chairs haphazardly circled the fire the regulars referred to as the pit. Moe saw the panic turn to terror when the blonde realized she'd walked right into a den of thieves, murderers, and rapists. And she was their next target.

  Moe jumped up and ran to number four. She went in without knocking. Grizz, who'd been sitting on the coffee table with his back to her, turned around and frowned at the interruption.

  "I don't need pampering, Grizz. I'm fine. The couch is comfortable, and I want to do a little reading and watch my show. If I need something, I can get it myself." Kit's soft and sweet voice caused Moe's insides to twist. Especially when she peered around Grizz and asked, "Moe, are you okay? Do you need something?"

  Moe couldn't wrap her head around the fact that the woman who almost
died was asking if she needed something. Her guilt weighed heavily, and if she could've put herself in Kit's place or reversed what had happened two weeks ago, she would have gladly done so. It was too late to change that, but she might be able to do something to help the poor girl who was probably already being stripped of her clothes. She could only hope that Grizz would care.

  She ran to him and pulled on his huge, tattooed arm.

  "Moe needs you, Grizz," Kit told him as she started to get up.

  "You stay put," he told his wife as he stood. "And when I get back you're going to take a pain pill. I see it in your face, Kitten. You're still hurting."

  The pounding in Christy's head was overwhelming. An icy fear almost paralyzed her. She was going to be attacked. She was going to be raped. Probably even murdered. She turned around and bolted for the highway, but one man was on her like lightning. He grabbed her roughly by her arm and after spinning her around tried to shove his tongue down her throat as he gripped the back of her neck tightly. He used his other hand to squeeze her left breast violently. She let out a cry as his grasp became more like a death grip and she felt her shirt tear. His rancid breath caused her to gag. She was having a thousand thoughts all at once and not one of them was managing to offer an escape plan.

  A memory floated through her mind. Afternoon thunderstorms were an everyday occurrence in the summer. Litzy had told her that if she counted the time between when she saw the lightning and heard the thunder she could tell how far away the storm was and as her counting got higher, it meant the storm was moving away. Unfortunately, Christy couldn't see the lightning from inside her closet, so Litzy taught her a Scripture to help calm her fears. Christy must've said it thousands of times in her youth, and it replayed itself in her mind now.

  "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love..."

  It played like a mantra in her head as she remembered that some of her happiest childhood memories revolved around Sunday mornings at church with Litzy. That changed right before her thirteenth birthday. After returning from a family cruise, twelve-year-old Christy had told Litzy that there was no God and she never stepped foot inside a church again. Christy decided to give Litzy's God another chance.

  Help me, God, she screamed in her head. She couldn’t get the words past her lips. Show me a way out of this.

  "...a sound mind...a sound mind...a sound mind." Give me a sound mind. Help me to think, her brain cried as her fists landed against the chest of the man attacking her, doing nothing to stop him.

  In an instant, visions of Anthony's handsome face came to mind. She recalled the deep dimple she'd first noticed less than two hours ago. She then imagined his smile fading and remembered the fierce scowl she thought could shrink a violet, and she tried to utter the only two words she could think of. They would either save her. Or seal her fate.

  Before she could get them out, the man landed a stiff blow to her face causing her to stumble backward. She felt the blood spurt from her nose as she caught herself before she fell. She turned to run, but felt the painful ripping of her hair as she was yanked back harshly. Her entire body was spun around and she was forced to her knees.

  "Anthony Bear," she managed to force out as the disgusting creature who'd left his spit on her face stopped unbuckling his belt and looked down at her.

  His expression instantly switched from one of pure evil to concern. He looked from side to side as if trying to assess if there was any immediate danger. He tugged on his filthy beard as if he wasn't too sure of himself.

  Christy watched him as she felt the tears from her cheeks mingle with the blood running down her nose. She swiped it away and noticed when his face changed again. Suddenly, his eyes went wide as he was jerked back roughly by the scruff of his neck.

  "Carney, how much money you think I can get if you keep beating on her?" a deep voice asked.

  Christy slowly looked up to where the voice had come from and started to shake as she stared into the most mesmerizing green eyes she'd ever seen. The light of the fire cast a perfect glow, and the coldness and brutality she saw in them caused a hopelessness like she'd never felt before. She felt someone grab her by the arm and help her stand. It was the little boy she'd seen sitting by the fire when she first walked up. It took her a split second to realize upon closer inspection that it wasn't a boy who'd run away. It was a woman.

  "Ah, I didn't think about that. I was just having some fun," Carney answered, nervously scratching his cheek.

  "Moe, take her to your room and calm her down. Get her cleaned up,” said the man who’d interrupted her assault. He looked at Christy's bloody face, torn shirt and the scratch marks on her arm where Carney had grabbed her too roughly. "Give her one of your shirts and bring her to number four."

  Christy heard bikes starting and saw her abuser heading toward them.

  "Not you, Carney," the man with the penetrating green eyes and long blond hair commanded.

  Carney started to shrink, concerned that he might be in trouble, when his leader said, "Hang for a while. I have a special job for you."

  "Sure thing," Carney said as he puffed out his chest. Having never been singled out before, he was certain his standing in the gang had just been elevated—if the blonde woman was worth quite a bit of money. He headed to the other side of the fire and took a seat in one of the lawn chairs and watched as Grizz, Moe and the hot looking blonde walked toward the motel.

  "Are you Christy Chapman?" the big man asked quietly as they walked away from the pit.

  "Yes," she sobbed. "How do you know that?" The instant realization that she might've jumped from the frying pan into the fire caused her chest to tighten. What if he was one of the other sharks that was looking for her? She'd never considered that Van was in trouble with someone on this coast. She was going to tell the huge man that she could and would pay her own ransom when he said, "Don't be afraid."

  "You...you're not going to hold me for ransom for Anthony?" she stammered. "Or Van?" she said softly.

  He didn’t seem surprised by her unusual question and didn't answer as he looked around. "How'd you get here?"

  "My car ran out of gas after I got off the Alley. I've been walking."

  He was silent at first. He nodded and continued heading toward unit number four. "You're safe here," he told Christy assuredly.

  As soon as Grizz walked through the door, Kit asked, "What was so urgent?" as she moved to a sitting position on the couch. Grizz wasn't going to tell his wife that a woman had almost been raped. Especially after what she'd been through just two weeks ago.

  "A woman ran out of gas after getting off the Alley. She started walking, and you know how pitch black it is out there. She tripped and banged up her face. She walked up to the motel with a bloody nose and Moe thought she'd been in an accident. She's helping her get cleaned up. I told Moe to bring her here when she's done. Hope you don't mind, baby. I didn't think you’d want her hanging in the pit with my guys," he said hoping it would cease his wife’s curiosity.

  Kit's eyes widened. "Oh, the poor woman. Of course she's welcome to come in here with us. I guess she has someone she can call?"

  He wasn't ready to share any details with Kit about Christy Chapman. Anthony had called Grizz the night before and explained how Van Chapman had skipped town and that Anthony and other loan sharks had been hunting him down. He also explained that he was holding Chapman's stepdaughter for ransom. He asked Grizz to put some feelers out to see if anyone knew Chapman's whereabouts and to make sure that Grizz wasn't one of the sharks on Chapman's trail. Grizz assured him that he had no dealings with Chapman. Besides, he was too busy looking for Kit's assailant. When Grizz heard the frightened woman cry Anthony's name, he knew immediately who she was.

  He went to his wife's side and gently tucked her blanket around her. Caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, he said, "Yeah, I have a number I'm going to page for her." He
then laid a soft kiss on her forehead, and asked her if she needed anything. When Kit asked him to turn down the TV so she could read, Grizz did it. After using the phone, he headed back outside.

  Christy couldn't stop shaking. The small black-haired woman called Moe never said a word as she gently helped Christy slip out of her shirt. She silently walked to a dresser and pulled out a black T-shirt and handed it to her. Moe left her alone and headed for the bathroom. Christy used the moment to scan the room. No phone. Moe quickly returned and handed Christy a warm washcloth.

  After cleaning herself up, Christy begged, "Can you help me get to a phone? Or maybe you can give me a ride? I can pay you." She then realized that she must've dropped her bag outside. Moe didn't say anything. She took the washcloth from Christy and tossed it in the bathroom. She then motioned for Christy to follow her back outside.

  After retrieving Christy's bag from the ground, Grizz leaned up against the wall and waited for the women to come out. He stayed close to his unit in case the phone rang. He chewed on a toothpick as he casually stared at the only man left in the pit. Grizz would let Anthony decide Carney's fate.

  He slowly pushed away from the wall when he heard Moe's door open. A shaken Christy Chapman, wearing Moe's black AC/DC T-shirt, approached him cautiously. Moe silently followed behind. Without saying anything, he handed Christy the bag she'd dropped. She thanked him without making eye contact.