The Iron Tiara: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  Still staring into the mirror, she took in her mousy appearance. Her brown eyes were way too big for her face and her thick glasses only magnified them. She thought of those alien pictures she'd seen and couldn't help but compare herself to them. She had a wide forehead, limp brown hair that hung to her shoulders and huge glasses that always slipped down to the end of her nose. She was tall, lanky, underweight and so pale, she could easily be cast as an extra in a vampire movie. She picked up her purse and left the restroom. She collided in the hallway with a busboy and the impact sent her sprawling. Her purse flew open and most of its contents were scattered across the floor.

  She started to apologize while simultaneously trying to gather her belongings when she heard a voice say with a snicker, "Well, well, well. If it isn't the uglier half of the Renquest incest twins. If your homely self hasn't found anybody to relieve you of your virginity by now, I'd be glad to do it. Unless, of course, your brother already took care of that for you."

  She'd recognize that voice anywhere. Artie Kane was one of the worst bullies she and Lenny had faced back in high school. Why? Why did he have to be here and ruin the high she was still feeling from talking to Christy Chapman? She started to stand and reluctantly met his eyes. He stood there smugly holding the empty tub he'd been carrying to bus tables.

  He slowly perused her from head to toe and sneered, "You know what, on second thought, I wouldn't want to infect my di—"

  Artie’s eyes widened as his words stopped abruptly. He was staring over Lucy's shoulder and started to stammer.

  "I think you owe Miss Lucy an apology," came a deep voice from behind her.

  She twirled around and gasped when she saw the man that must've come out of the restroom and walked up behind her during her altercation with Artie. He was one of the men that had been sitting at Christy's table. How did he know her name? Christy must've mentioned it. He gently pushed Lucy to the side and roughly grabbed Artie by his right arm. Without looking at her, the huge biker said, "Stand guard outside the men's room. If anybody tries to use it, make up an excuse as to why they can't come inside."

  Lucy was at a loss for words. All she could manage was a nod. It seemed like time was grinding to a halt as she watched Artie drop his empty dish tub on the floor as he was roughly dragged by the big man into the men's room. She stood in front of the door and prayed she wouldn't have to lie to anybody that needed to go in. She started to tremble when she heard Artie's muffled cries. Not much time had passed when the door opened, and she quickly turned around to see the big man exiting the restroom, adjusting his zipper. Before the door closed behind him, she thought she saw Artie on the floor, lying in the fetal position with his pants around his ankles.

  "I'm Jonas Brooks and I know you're a friend of Christy's. If anybody ever tries to bother you again, you come find me." Unless I find you first, Lucy Renquest, he thought. He could tell by her expression that she didn't remember him. And why would she? It'd been years and he'd never shared his name before, plus he’d gained at least fifty pounds, given up shaving his head and acquired facial tattoos.

  She stared up at him, her eyes wider than saucers, her glasses magnifying them. She was surprised, but didn't flinch when he softly caressed her cheek with the back of his calloused hand. "You remind me of someone I used to know," he said before adding where she could find him, "Brooks’ Bait & Tackle on the southeast corner of Thomasson Drive and Kelly Road."

  "Th-th-thank you," she barely whispered. "For helping me."

  He gave her a look that sent fear coursing through her veins. But not the kind of fear that frightened her. This fear was new and stimulating. Like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket and instead of fearing for her life, she felt more alive than ever before. His smoldering eyes and the fact that she liked the way he was looking at her caused her to shiver. He had an animal lust that pierced her conscience. She'd never felt anything like it. Her knees suddenly felt weak.

  Brooks saw his reflection in her glasses. It was all he could do not to drag her outside to his motorcycle and take her with him.

  "Wh-what did you do to him?" she asked. Her voice came out hoarse.

  "I relieved him of his virginity," he answered evenly.

  Anthony and Christy arrived home, and after showering together they settled on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn.

  "Did you think that Brooks was staring at Lucy a lot?" she asked as she changed the channel to the local news station. They'd finished watching a movie and their bowl was empty.

  "No," Anthony replied.

  "Do you think it was weird that he went to the bathroom after I saw her walk that way?"

  "No," Anthony once again replied. "But I did notice that he drank five huge glasses of water during dinner. Brooks is like a camel. I would’ve been surprised if he didn't have to take a leak."

  Suddenly, Christy shot straight up and pointed at the television. She had a hard time finding the words.

  "It's...it's..." she stammered.

  They were watching a news clip with Dr. Veronique Dubois’s picture. Smiling, Anthony grabbed the remote and turned it up. The newscaster was saying that the beautiful surgeon was accused of embezzling hospital funds. They'd traced a substantial amount of money to a bank account in Bermuda.

  Christy looked over at Anthony and saw him smiling. "Did you do this?" she asked.

  "No," he answered matter-of-factly. "But I know the right people who did it for me. It's part one of my retaliation for what she did to you."

  "Anthony, what if she tells them about you? What if she tells them that she wronged you and that you're setting her up?" Christy’s voice was worried.

  "It'll never happen. Veronique is a narcissist. She would never elude to a connection with a criminal. Her reputation is everything to her. I've never met a more self-serving person in my life," he said, his eyes fixed on the television. He glanced over at her then. "Other than your stepfather. They both should spend the rest of their lives in the same prison cell. But even that is too good for what I have planned for them. Starting with Veronique."

  Six Days Later

  "I hate you! I hate you, Anthony Bear!"

  "Not as much as you'll hate me five minutes from now."

  "You are so going to pay for this," Veronique sneered.

  Anthony had been crouched down beside her. He stood and looked at X who'd been standing off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest.

  "You hear that, X? Dr. V thinks she's actually going to still be alive when I'm finished with her."

  Alexander gave a long slow smile and looked down at the woman whose hands and feet were tied to posts. She was stretched as far as her body would allow without pulling her limbs from their sockets. The sun beat down on the threesome. The South Florida Everglades heat was as harsh and unrelenting as her circumstances, yet her eyes showed no fear. Only defiance. She still thinks there's a way out, Alexander thought.

  "Go ahead. What are you waiting for?" she spat. "Rape me! Do it!"

  Anthony threw his head back and laughed. "Rape you? I can barely stand to look at you. Why do you think you're still wearing your bra and panties? The thought of your naked body disgusts me, Veronique."

  He watched as she momentarily looked surprised, but she quickly regained her composure. Impressive, considering her circumstances, he thought.

  "I told them. I told them about you," she sneered. "The cops will be beating down your door when they figure out how you set me up for that embezzlement rap. And you know they'll tear your camp apart looking for me if I disappear."

  Anthony pulled a huge knife from his belt and played with the edge of it as he answered her. "No, you didn't, and no, they won't." Without missing a beat, he asked, "Who is Ben Diamond?" He didn't bother to explain he had more than one contact in law enforcement who was able to verify that his name or camp had never been mentioned by Veronique during her interrogation. He'd had X and Brooks wait for the perfect opportunity to abduct her after she'd been released on ba
il. And it was all arranged to look like Dr. Dubois had skipped town rather than face prison time. Her disappearance would never be traced back to him or his crew.

  She looked momentarily confused and he noticed when recognition dawned in her eyes. "He came into my ER for a cut on his hand. He's who you're after. He's the one who told me about you and your silly little girl whore."

  "Go on," Anthony told her. "You tell me how to find Ben Diamond and it might save your life."

  After Veronique told Anthony everything she could remember about the elusive Mr. Diamond, she sighed and said, "Can we end this now? Can you please untie me?"

  He crouched beside her. "Silly little girl,” he tossed back at her, “I'm only getting warmed up."

  He started with her thigh and didn't even flinch when she let out a blood-curdling scream. He held up the long piece of skin he'd peeled away and said, "If you're going to scream every time, I might have to have X gag you."

  The reality that she was going to die a slow and excruciating death caused her to break out in sobs and apologies. They fell on deaf ears. He easily peeled off another long sliver of skin when he thought about finding Andrew on top of a nude Christy that night at his camp.

  "The only way this will end is when you beg me for your death," he told her, his voice void of emotion. "And when you do, X will light you up and feed what's left of you to the gators. They aren't so picky that they'd refuse some barbecue." He nodded toward a jug of gasoline that was sitting next to where X was standing.

  A flock of birds fluttered away after her next scream. Alexander had dragged her so far out, Veronique knew there was no chance of being heard, let alone rescued. She was going to die in the middle of the Everglades and be fed to the alligators. Her friends and family would believe that she'd fled after being released on bail. Her family would be shamed. And all because she was jealous of a woman.

  Anthony took his time peeling away the next piece of skin. This time from the underside of her armpit to the inside of her elbow. Her crying was so heavy she started to choke on her own phlegm and Anthony thought she might throw up. He hoped not. He didn't want her to die choking on vomit. That was too merciful as far as he was concerned.

  Veronique managed to endure several more visits from Anthony's knife. She was becoming delirious with pain. Even the sun taunted her open wounds. "Kill me," she moaned.

  "That doesn't sound like begging. Oh, and I forgot. You need to tell me that you're sorry for what you did to my woman and that you wish us nothing but the best."

  "Please, please, end this," she cried.

  "And?" he asked, his tone mocking.

  "And, I'm sorry for what I did to...to..." Even in her ominous situation and debilitating pain, she could barely bring herself to utter the next words. "To your woman."

  "My wife," he interrupted and took satisfaction in the anger he saw reflected in her eyes. Despite her dire state of affairs, Veronique still couldn't disguise her hatred for Christy.

  "I'm sorry for what I did to your wife...and I wish you both the best. Now please, please end this!"

  Anthony stood up and nodded at X who proceeded to douse her with gasoline. The liquid seeping into her exposed wounds caused more hair-raising screams.

  Anthony lit a match and right before he dropped it, Veronique said in barely a whisper, "I never loved anyone but you, Anthony."

  “You never loved anyone but yourself, Veronique,” he said dryly.

  “No. No. You’re wrong,” she countered, shaking her head from side to side. “I was in love with you.” The last comment came out as a sob.

  "Then you loved the wrong man, Veronique."

  Anthony dropped the match an instant after he noticed she'd lost consciousness. A feeling descended on him he didn't recognize. He didn't know how to identify it and wasn't sure if he wanted to. A voice inside his head taunted him, telling him that he'd purposely withheld the flame until Veronique passed out, sparing her the agonizing moments of fire meeting her exposed flesh. The truth came to him instantly. For the first time in his life, he'd shown mercy to someone who'd wronged him, or in this case, wronged someone he loved. He shook his head at the revelation and headed back to camp leaving X to clean up the evidence.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Naples, Florida 1979

  It was a beautiful spring morning when Christy received the heartbreaking news that Nadine was moving to marry a man she'd met through mutual friends. Although Christy was devastated, she would never deny Nadine and her children the opportunity for happiness. Even if it was several states away. Nadine had fallen in love with a man named Scott who'd been vacationing in Florida. A friend from Nadine's job had invited them both to a dinner party and there was an immediate attraction. So much so that Scott had made almost ten trips to Florida just to spend time with Nadine and her family. Christy and Anthony had both met Scott and thought he was perfect for Nadine. He showed genuine kindness and love for Nana and the boys. He had a good job and a solid career with an upscale engineering firm in Indiana.

  "I don't see why she has to be the one to move," Christy sobbed into Anthony's chest.

  "You know why, Owani," Anthony said as he gently stroked her hair. "He can't find a job here, and they don't want to wait. They want to be together."

  Christy had cried herself to sleep that night as Anthony reflected on the last several months. She lay wrapped in his arms as sleep escaped him. He pulled her closer and stared at their bedroom ceiling. Like he'd told Veronique that day in the Everglades, the authorities would assume she'd skipped town. And they had. No one had come knocking at his door to ask about Dr. Veronique Dubois.

  Anthony had no luck at all in establishing Ben Diamond's true identity. Van Chapman was considered a flight risk and having been denied bail, sat in the county jail awaiting trial. Anthony had men on the inside who had gotten to Van. Even with their attempts at intimidation, interrogation with torture, and offering drugs in exchange for information, Van hadn't been able to tell them any more about the elusive Ben Diamond than Anthony had already known. He had a physical description and a false name. It was the same information Veronique had provided.

  Anthony's other regret was that he hadn't been able to mete out any retaliation to Van for what he tried to have done to Christy. The county jail wasn't the proper place to execute what Anthony had planned for the man, and unfortunately, Van Chapman dropped dead of a heart attack while sitting on the toilet in his jail cell. An autopsy had proven that no foul play had been involved. He deserved so much worse, Anthony thought as he caressed Christy's arm softly.

  Alexander had been spending at least one weekend a month away, and since he never shared what he was doing, Anthony never asked. Alexander only told Anthony he was out of town, never mentioning where he was going. People were entitled to their secrets. Besides, Anthony only required loyalty, not a travel itinerary.

  He let out a sigh when he thought about how he'd finally shared his biggest secret with Christy. He wasn't sure how she was going to react when he told her that he'd been working with her grandmother, Bobbi, to steal from the dealership. And she was even more surprised when she discovered that it was her grandmother who'd approached Anthony, and not the other way around. It was right after Van's death that they found themselves alone at Camp Sawgrass.

  "I can't believe it," she told him as she swiped her hand through her short hair. She swung around to look at Anthony. Christy had just stocked the camp infirmary with medicine, feminine products and even baby supplies. She invited the regulars to take whatever they needed for themselves or their children.

  "It's true," Anthony responded as he approached her. He started to tuck her hair behind her ear when she pulled away and walked toward the door. She spun around and stood with her hands on her hips.

  "My grandmother, who owned the most successful car conglomerate in South Florida, came to you and asked you to steal from her?" She sounded incredulous. "Why? Why would she do that? It doesn't make sense!" She waved her ri
ght hand in the air and, shaking her head in disbelief, slapped her hand against her thigh.

  He gave her a slow smile. "There was more to your grandmother than you could've guessed, Christy. I thought she was trying to trick me or set me up, so I asked her the same thing. 'What's in it for you, Bobbi?’"

  "What did she say?" Christy asked in bewilderment.

  "She gave me two answers. The first was because she was a risk taker and a bit of a thrill seeker. She did it because she enjoyed getting away with it. Her second reason was along the same lines. She thought it would be fun to test her son-in-law. She wanted to see if Van would ever be involved enough in the business to figure it out. And what did she have to lose if he didn't realize it? Nothing. Except some disappointment for him not giving her dealerships the attention he should."

  "And if he did realize it?" Christy asked.

  "I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She was smart enough to pin it on him. He'd have been her scapegoat."

  Christy just stared, her jaw slack. Shaking her head, she asked, "How? How and what are you doing?"

  He pulled out a chair and swung it around. Straddling it backward he leaned his huge arms across the top of it and told her everything. How Bobbi had personally selected two contacts at the dealerships for him to work with. One headed up accounting, and the other was in charge of receiving the cars from the factory. It was almost too simple.

  "Not every car arrives from the factory in pristine condition. At least not what you would expect for the exotic and expensive cars that are sold by your dealerships. Even if they have one nick, they get sent to the shop for repair before hitting the display floor. There have been instances where the huge trucks that haul these cars get in accidents, and when that happens, the cars aren't repaired, they're sent to scrap yards who are willing to pay a decent amount just to get their hands on spare parts."