The Iron Tiara: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  "I'm sorry, Owani. I've done nothing but give you my word that you were safe with me and it obviously wasn't true. What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

  Instead of answering his question, she posed one of her own. "Why would Dr. Dubois do this?" She looked up at him, her eyes sad and confused. "Why would she lure me to the camp?”

  Veronique. He gritted his teeth and told Christy, “I don’t know, but you can be sure I’ll find out.”

  They were interrupted when a sleepy voice said, “What in the world happened here?”

  They both looked over at a man who was walking toward them. “I just got up to take a dump and looked out the window.” His voice sounded groggy.

  Without taking his eyes off John, Anthony asked Christy, “Was he one of them?”

  “One of what?” John looked anxious. He was instantly wide awake.

  “No,” Christy answered. “It was only the four of them.”

  “Did you page me, John?” Anthony asked.

  “No,” John answered, shaking his head. “I’ve been asleep. It wasn’t me.”

  “Get the big one tied up and take him to the chow hall,” Anthony ordered. “He’s still alive, and I don’t want him going anywhere.”

  He then turned to Christy and scooped her up into his arms. “Let’s get you inside, Owani,” he told her. “I still need to find out who sent me the page that saved your life.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Naples, Florida 1978

  After going inside and finding Shasta crumpled on the floor, Anthony gently set Christy down. He determined Shasta wasn’t dead and carried her to the cot in the infirmary. Christy gathered some washcloths and ice from the small kitchen and was reminded of how Moe had helped her at the Glades Motel. Anthony tried to shoo her away, but she told him, “I can help. I’m not hurt, and she is.”

  While Christy ministered to the woman whose face resembled a punching bag, Anthony made some phone calls and within twenty minutes the rumble of motorcycles were distinct. Shasta had already come around and told Anthony everything, not leaving out any details.

  He thanked her and asked Christy if she would stay with Shasta while he attended to business. Christy didn’t have to ask him what business and reassured him that she would stay until he got back.

  He met his men outside and told them to follow him. He had John take Andrew to the building that used to be the camp’s chow hall. Anthony entered with the three men he’d summoned. They were the worst of the worst and would put Andrew to shame when it came to brutality. Especially the one named Brooks. However, they were his trusted regulars and would never have been stupid or desperate enough to believe Veronique’s lies. And even if they did believe her, they still would’ve had the wherewithal to at least page him or X to see if her message was true.

  A shaking Andrew started to cry when the men approached. John had tied him to one of the massive wooden posts that supported the tall ceiling. His hands were fastened so tightly behind his back, his shoulders felt like they’d been ripped from their sockets.

  “I have a hole in my back. I’m probably gonna die from it. Let me go, and I’ll crawl away,” he sobbed. “Please.”

  “I’m going to show you the same mercy you showed my woman. My wife,” Anthony snarled. He turned and walked toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “John, do you want in on this?”

  “Nah,” John yelled out. “I’m more of a spectator.”

  Andrew started mumbling about Anthony sending a message that he had no use for a white rabbit. Anthony chalked it up to nonsense and blocked him out. It didn't matter anyway. Andrew was going to die a long slow death for what he'd done to Christy.

  “Good,” Anthony told John as he returned from the kitchen carrying three large pots. “You can add up the score at the end.”

  Brooks let out a loud laugh and said, “This sounds like it’s going to be fun, Bear.”

  Without answering him, Anthony laid the three pots on a table near Andrew. He then walked over and got right in the restrained man’s face. Andrew wouldn’t look at him.

  “I heard you tell my woman that you were going to bite off certain parts of her body and chew on them. And then you were going to spit them in her face.”

  “No. No. I didn’t say…”

  Andrew didn’t get to finish his sentence and instead let out a blood-curdling scream. “My nose. You bit off my nose,” he cried, his eyes clenched closed. He opened them and saw Anthony’s blood-spattered face and recognized the muscle in his jaw working. He watched in horror as Anthony got closer and spit a mound of flesh in his face. Anthony then repeated the grisly act, this time tearing off a piece of Andrew’s bottom lip.

  He then turned to the four men who’d been watching the gruesome ritual and spoke to the three he knew would be more than willing to participate. Nodding toward the three pots he’d laid on the table, Anthony told them, “You each get a pot. One thousand cash to the man whose pot contains the most pieces of Andrew. John will tally it when he’s dead and if you get bored or your jaws start to ache, use your knives.”

  “Noooo!” Andrew screamed as he tried to break free from his restraints.

  Anthony headed for the door. He left the chow hall, but not before he heard Brooks say, “Don’t worry, boss. We won’t get bored.”

  And another quickly added, "I look forward to filling up my pot unless we get extra points for swallowing."

  Anthony returned to the office and once inside the infirmary he saw Christy nod at him as he headed for the sink to clean off. She knew where he’d been and she’d let him know she was okay with it.

  Anthony and Christy wanted to take Shasta to a hospital for treatment, but she brushed them off. “I’ve survived worse,” she told them.

  Christy looked with compassion at the woman who was responsible for saving her life. While Anthony was gone, Shasta had not only shared what she overhead, but also some of the horrible things Andrew had done to her in the past. She admitted that she never told Anthony because she was afraid of Andrew’s retaliation. And if she was going to be honest with Christy, she wasn’t even certain Anthony would’ve cared.

  Anthony stood over the cot Shasta was lying on and was reminded of the last time he was here with her. It had only been weeks, but could just as well have been a year ago. He couldn’t remember what his life felt like before Christy. He was no longer the same person. He was in the sense that he would continue to do what he did to people like Andrew, but for the first time, he saw Shasta as more than a whore who pleasured him for her next fix. He saw her as someone’s daughter, someone’s sister. She might’ve even been someone’s mother. He hadn’t a clue of who cared about her because he’d never cared to find out. Christy changed that in him and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  Looking down at Shasta he said, “I owe you for Christy’s life. Anything. You name it, Shasta, and it’s yours.”

  He was certain she would ask for a large sum of cash, and he would gladly give it to her.

  “Anything?” she asked. Her lip was swollen, and her speech was slightly garbled.

  Anthony nodded. “Anything.”

  Shasta briefly described her life and how she eventually wound up at the camp. Shasta and her two sisters were raised by a single mother whose boyfriends abused all of them. She drank her first beer when she was eight. She smoked her first joint when she was ten, and she started exchanging sexual favors for harder drugs by the time she was fourteen.

  “The only thing I can remember from my childhood, the only thing that I ever found pleasure in, was drawing.” She looked over at Christy who was smiling at the admission.

  “Not drawing like you might think,” she quickly added. “I liked to draw sketches of pretty buildings. Sometimes, I would get a ruler and try and draw what I thought the inside looked like.”

  “Like an architect or engineer?” Christy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Shasta said shyly, looking awa
y. “It’s probably stupid. Someone like me trying to be something other than a whore.”

  “What are you asking me for exactly?” Anthony questioned.

  She looked up at him, and he saw the pain in her eyes. “I want to be clean, Anthony. I want to go to a rehab facility far away from here, and when I get out, I can get myself a regular job and enroll somewhere and take some classes.” A single tear ran down her cheek.

  Anthony looked sideways at Christy and saw her smile and nod.

  “You got it. I’ll pay for you to get into a good facility,” he confirmed to Shasta.

  “And, we’ll help you when you get out, too,” Christy added. “We'll make sure you have a nice place to live in a decent neighborhood, and we’ll pay for you to go to any school you want.” Christy handed Shasta a tissue to wipe the tears that were coursing down her bruised cheeks.

  After Shasta composed herself, Anthony told Christy to wait in his truck. He would drive them home and have her car delivered later. He stayed to talk to Shasta to see if there were any more details, even the smallest, that she could remember. She was more than willing to give it some more thought. Especially if it meant Dr. V would be getting what she had coming to her.

  Anthony pulled Christy close as he drove them home. He was surprised that she didn’t burst into tears or tremble like she had after the recent incident at Grizz’s motel. But then he told himself that if he was changing, maybe she was too. He knew she was strong willed and stubborn, but he hadn’t realized how much until he heard her challenge Andrew.

  After they arrived, they took a shower together and he inspected every inch of her. “I told you I’m not hurt,” she insisted, but he noticed the slight discoloring on her neck and the insides of her thighs. He was surprised when they crawled into bed together and she reached for him. He assumed the trauma would’ve caused her to hesitate and he said so.

  “What almost happened with those horrible men has nothing to do with how I feel when I’m with you, Anthony. If anything, the things you do to me will make me forget.”

  "You mentioned that you heard what I told the lawyers about marrying you, but right after they left, you let me make love to you." She didn't answer so he asked her, "Why?"

  "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I guess I thought I would in some way use you back or maybe I needed to pretend that what we had was real."

  "It is real," he told her. "Can I tell you a story, Christy?" His voice was low and serious.

  "What kind of a story?" she asked him, running her hand over his strong, firm chest.

  "It's about a Cherokee warrior and how he tricked a woman into marrying him."

  "What woman?" Christy asked, her fingers now running along the muscular contours of his abdomen.

  "She was a white woman. A wealthy rancher." He pulled her closer and kissed her temple softly.

  "Did the warrior trick her because he wanted her cattle? Her land?" Christy asked. "Her money?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

  "No, Owani. He tricked her because he was in love with her." When she didn't reply, he continued. "He only wanted one thing."

  "What was that?" He could feel her warm breath on his chest.

  "He wanted her heart."

  Her fingers stopped their exploration and Christy leaned up on one elbow and looked down at him. "Tell me the story, Anthony."

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Tampa, Florida 1978

  The man who'd walked into Veronique Dubois's ER three days prior and identified himself as Ben Diamond sat inside a restaurant and ordered a sandwich and a cup of coffee. He mentally reviewed all that had transpired over the past two weeks since the phone call from Van Chapman, as well as since his decision to ditch Van's job three nights ago.

  After receiving that first call from Van, he immediately set up surveillance on Anthony Bear, and even though it took a couple of days, he was able to verify that Van's daughter, Christy, was indeed living with the man. He made some casual inquiries at the right biker hangouts that eventually pointed him to one bar in particular. Once there, he solicited a prostitute who was willing to chat about Anthony Bear and the beautiful doctor that provided medical attention to his motorcycle gang. The prostitute, Gloria, was a regular at Camp Sawgrass and convinced herself that since she wasn't giving up criminal secrets about Anthony, she wouldn't have to fear retaliation.

  "So, he has a thing for this lady doctor?" he'd casually asked her.

  "Maybe." Gloria paused. "I don't know." They were in his car and Gloria had just finished performing oral sex. "But it's obvious she has a thing for him."

  "Why do you say maybe?" he asked as he zipped up his pants.

  "Well, he still slept with us girls…” She paused and then added, “At least up until about a month ago. But rumor has it, Dr. V has been to his house. And I know for a fact nobody from his camp, except X, has ever been there. Especially not a woman. And when I used to see Dr. V at the camp, she was always trying to convince us girls that Anthony was too good for us and if we cared anything about him, we'd stop coming around. Can you imagine that? A big-time surgeon jealous of a few whores? I guess they're on the outs though because I don't think I've seen Dr. V in months." She eyed him sideways. "Why do you want to know so much about Anthony Bear?"

  He whipped out a fifty and waved it in front of her face. "He's well known where I come from. My boss has sent me down to negotiate some business with him. I want to know more about the man and not just his criminal enterprise."

  Gloria started to snatch the money from his hand, but he pulled it back and said, "Word on the street is that Anthony Bear is a sadistic S.O.B. You should probably know that I can be as bad, if not worse. Nobody can ever know about our conversation."

  She smirked and managed to grab the money from him and tucked it into her bra. "You don't have to worry about me talking. Besides, anybody who goes to the camp knows about Dr. V. So, you had a few questions about Anthony?" She shrugged. "It's not like I told you state secrets or anything."

  She got out of his car and after slamming the door shut, leaned in through the open passenger window. "Sure you don't wanna spend some more time together? We could go to my place."

  He shook his head and passed her another fifty and added, "This here is for you. Something you don't have to share with Anthony."

  She took the offered bill and smiled, "Oh, Anthony's not my pimp. Ron is."

  "Ron?"

  "Yeah, he doesn't know it yet, but I'm going to marry him one day."

  She gave him a smile showing off her dazzling white teeth, and he couldn't help but notice her sparkling eyes. Gloria was extremely attractive, and if he hadn't been so caught up in trying to dig around for information on Anthony Bear, he would've spent more time with her. A lot more time.

  Her eyes got serious and her lips formed a grim straight line when she added, "And you're wrong, mister. Nobody is worse than Anthony Bear."

  The man who called himself Ben Diamond took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with black coffee. It hadn't taken him more than a few hours after the conversation with Gloria to locate Dr. Veronique Dubois. And after traveling back to Tampa to fill Van Chapman in on his plan, he’d immediately started to let his facial hair grow and stopped bathing. He’d sat outside the hospital in his rental car for days before he finally pulled the knife across his palm and entered the ER.

  After leaving the hospital, he’d watched from his car and less than ten minutes later, saw Veronique Dubois charge out of the hospital. He followed her to her townhouse, waited another thirty minutes for her to reappear, followed her again and smiled with satisfaction as she turned onto the desolate road that led to Anthony's house. He parked across the street at a gas station and waited.

  The lady doctor reappeared about forty-five minutes later, and he was certain an angry Christy Chapman would soon follow. And when that didn't happen, he wondered if maybe Anthony and Christy weren't at home. But if that was the case, why would Veronique have taken so long to rea
ppear? She must've been doing something at Anthony's house. He sat for a couple more hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of either Anthony or Christy to see if he could read their body language from a distance. Had Veronique's visit caused a rift in their relationship? Would Christy be running away from Anthony?

  He was beginning to think his plan to antagonize the doctor into prompting Christy to leave had failed. He was getting ready to drive off when he caught sight of Christy blowing through the stop sign at the intersection where Anthony's road met the four-lane highway. It was all he could do to get his car started and try to catch up with her.

  He was positive she would be heading home or checking into a motel, and that was where he would grab her. What he hadn't counted on was her pulling a U-turn so quickly, it almost caused a tractor-trailer to jackknife, which in turn resulted in a series of drivers, including him, slamming on their brakes. Christy hadn't caused an accident, but she did create enough of a delay that by the time he'd turned around and made his way past the disgruntled truck driver, he'd lost sight of her. He’d slammed his fist hard on the steering wheel and let out a litany of expletives.

  At that time, he pulled over at the next convenience store and formed another plan. A plan that no longer involved Christy Chapman. After having his chat with Gloria and getting more information about Anthony Bear, he'd had some reservations about crossing the man. What Gloria had told him about Anthony was apparently true. He was not someone you wanted to take on. Even if it was never traced back to him, he didn't want to be looking over his shoulder for eternity. He took losing sight of Christy on the road as a sign. It was time for him to ditch this job. But not before he got paid.