The Iron Tiara

"Nobody has a key to Bear's house." This wasn't entirely true. Alexander had one, as did Anthony's sixty-year-old cleaning woman, Lourdes.

"Well, I do," she replied as she tried to physically nudge him away from the door. She was starting to close it when he stuck his foot inside.

"Like I said," he lied. "I don't know of anybody that has a key to this house except for Anthony. Who are you?"

She let go of the door and crossed her arms in front of her. Giving him a level look she asked, "I think the better question is who are you?"

"No, the better question is why are you in my friend's house when he isn't here? And why aren't you afraid of me? I could've slit your throat by now!"

"Because anybody that knows Anthony Bear would know that if he came home and found his sister with her throat slit, they'd suffer the wrath of the devil himself. And it's obvious that you know my brother so maybe I should be asking why you aren't afraid of harassing me to the point that all I have to do is tell him what a big fat jerk you are and you'd be dealt with?"

She was winded from her long tirade and surprised when the man retorted, "So, you're Nisha?"

She blinked twice, but didn't answer.

It never occurred to him that this woman was Bear's sister. He heard she had been visiting, but he could've sworn she was gone. "Bear told me what a handful you were. I should've known."

"Handful?" she stammered. "Wait. Wha…? Who are you?"

"I'm Anthony's right-hand man."

"Is that so? Well, he never mentioned a ‘right-hand man.’ You work at the landscape company?" she inquired.

X hesitated. Anthony was the most private person he’d ever met. He'd mentioned Nisha only a few times over the past couple of years, and it was only to let X know when she would be arriving since he would be missing from the camp and the landscape office for a few days. And Anthony had never said that Nisha was a handful. He made that up on the spot to get a dig at her. Anthony also never mentioned his sister was drop-dead gorgeous and spunky.

"Yeah, I work with him at Native Touch. And he mentioned you were visiting, but he also told me you left."

She stepped aside and waved him in. "I did leave. This morning," she told him matter-of-factly as she followed him into the great room. "But after he dropped me at the airport I found out my flight was canceled, and there was nothing else available. I wouldn't have come all the way back here, but it looks like there's some kind of convention in town. I must've spent ten dollars in change calling every hotel in the phone book. I finally gave up and caught a cab back here since my brother apparently doesn't know how to answer a page."

Without warning the front door sprung open, and Anthony came in with a diminutive blonde in his arms and an agitated look on his face. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Nisha standing in his living room.

Before he could say anything, Nisha burst out, "Oh no! Anthony, what's wrong with her? Is she okay?"

Anthony caught X's glance and looked back at the concerned face of his sister. A sister that should've landed in Philadelphia hours ago.

"No, she's not okay. She's a client's daughter," he half lied. "I was working at her house with my crew when she came staggering out the front door. Totally wasted and puking everywhere. She started to get in her car, and I couldn't let her drive. She was mumbling something about her parents coming home, and she didn't want them to see her in such bad shape."

He strode to his bedroom and laid her on his oversized king bed. He had to get his sister out of the house, and he had to do it quickly. There was no way he could risk Christy waking up with Nisha there. No telling what the girl would say. He was getting anxious because it was taking her so long to come around when Nisha started firing off questions. She'd followed him into his room, and he immediately took her by the shoulders, spun her around and steered her back out to the living room where X stood, a knowing expression on his face.

"I don't know if she lives with them or not, Nisha. And I don't know what happened to her forehead. I just know that an incapacitated person was going to get behind the wheel of a car and I couldn't let her drive."

"You could've taken her keys, Anthony," she countered. Her powers of deduction made it obvious that she was an attorney. She was cross-examining her brother not because she was suspicious, she was just curious. Or maybe it was suspicion. His sister was one of the most intelligent people he knew.

"Yes, I could have,” Anthony shot back. “But like I already told you, before she passed out she made it clear she didn't want them to see her. I started driving and realized I didn't know anything about her, if she lived at home with them or somewhere else, so I brought her here."

Nisha tilted her head to one side and looked at him, her eyes narrowing. He quickly changed the subject.

"And speaking of here, what are you doing here?" he asked, trying not to appear aggravated or frustrated.

"Her flight was canceled. Long story," X broke in.

Anthony looked down at her and said, "Nisha, you can't stay here."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice sounding more cross than hurt.

"Because the client I mentioned is important. I don't want this girl waking up and having you and him here." He nodded at Alexander. "She's not a sideshow, and I don't want her to feel that way. She'll be awake soon. I'll get some coffee and aspirin in her, and when she sobers up, I'll drive her home."

"I don't see why I can't—" she started to say, but Alexander interrupted.

"Come to my house, Nisha," X blurted out. He almost choked on his own words. The last thing he wanted to do was spend time with Anthony's sister. "You can call the airlines from my place, and if you get a flight out, I'm much closer to the airport than Anthony is. I can get you there faster."

Anthony gave X a look that said he was grateful. He hadn't filled Alexander in on any details after the short phone conversation they had from the Chapmans’ house. X knew when Anthony was taking care of business and apparently, the passed-out blonde was big business or he wouldn't have brought her here. He wondered if this was the houseguest that Anthony had been referring to. He hoped not. Right now, instinct told him Nisha needed to be out of Anthony's house before the blonde got up. Even though he was less than enthralled with hosting Anthony's sister for one night, he told himself it was better than hosting the blonde for an indefinite amount of time.

Picking up Nisha's luggage from the foyer where she'd left it, Alexander called out, "I need your truck keys. I can't take your sister home on my bike."

Anthony steered Nisha toward the front door.

"You never mentioned a friend who looks like Paul Newman," she whispered over her shoulder.

"Who?" he asked distractedly.

"Paul Newman. The movie star!"

"Butch Cassidy?" Anthony asked.

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