by Tina Michele
Tara wondered if she’d tripped a sensor and he didn’t cancel it out in time. “Where at?”
“They said in the west vault.”
Tara was in the vault. “Xander, that’s where I’m at now. Don’t let them in until we call dispatch.” Something wasn’t right. If there was a tripped sensor he’d have seen it. “Xander? Did you hear me?”
“I just raised the gate. It’s all good. They showed me their badges.”
“No, Xander, wait for me!” It was against protocol to disarm the entry gates without proper coverage and authorization; he should’ve known that. She’d learned it the hard way from Joe the night of Belle’s attack. “Xander?” She took the steps two at a time and raced to the lobby. He wasn’t responding. “What a fucking idiot, Xander!” She called his name as she ran up the hallway. Tara turned the corner, and she skidded to a stop. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Two masked officers stood near the door. The smaller one had Xander in a choke hold so tight his face had turned red. His eyes widened with fear when he saw Tara. She held her finger to her mouth and shook her head just as the second, and much larger, man turned toward her. She glanced in the direction of the desk and gauged her distance to the emergency call button. Without a second thought, Tara shot off toward the desk. Just as she reached out, he lunged at her and caught her legs. His strong arm swept them out from under her and she tumbled forward and struck the seat of the chair with her chest. Her breath was forced from her lungs, and she gasped for air. He grabbed her by the back of her shirt and tossed her onto the floor. She looked at him from her back as he pinned her down with one hand. She struggled and kicked under his weight, but he was too strong.
As she fought against him, he squeezed her neck. She gripped at his hand that clamped like a vice around her throat. Tara swung her arms at him until she landed one solid shot to his face. He slammed her head against the floor and her vision flickered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the red button. She reached out for it as far as she could. A loud click of the handgun cocking next to her ear paralyzed her. She dropped her arms in surrender as the other masked officer threw a gasping and bloodied Xander down next to her.
A light flashed on the board, and Tara watched as the thugs spotted movement on the display. Tara recognized the figure, and to her relief it wasn’t Belle, but the overnight guardsman.
“Third shift, right on time. Take care of it,” the beast of a man ordered his partner.
“On it,” he said before he ran off toward the west end entrance.
As he disappeared, the enormous goon leaned down to tie her up. Tara’s head pounded and her vision blurred. She struggled to catch her breath, but her lungs were too tight. She gathered every ounce of remaining energy she had and took one last shot to kick the gun from his hand. He’d anticipated her move and swept his hand out of her reach just in time. The last thing Tara saw before darkness was his enormous fist and the gun as he swung them back at her face.
*
Belle pulled into the lower level of the garage next to Tara’s Jeep. She turned off the car and waited, not so patiently, for Tara’s shift to end. She could see the street and sidewalk on the other side of the low barrier wall of the garage and noticed the eerie stillness of the neighborhood. There wasn’t a single vehicle on the street or amorous couple exploring the shops. Belle hadn’t ever noticed just how far the streets rolled up at eleven p.m. on a Sunday.
Belle was a fumbled mix of emotions as she sat tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She was nervous as hell, but filled with an excitement that had her heart racing. Except for the time she spent diving into the life and times of the shady Otto Rosenberg, she’d done nothing but think about Tara.
That had pretty much been the case since the first moment she’d seen Tara. Since they’d begun getting to know each other, as sporadic and limited as it had been, she often found herself fantasizing and daydreaming about her. But nothing she could’ve imagined in those short random bursts of thought compared to the heat and pleasure that she’d experienced in those few passionate moments the night before. She had taken Kyle’s advice and put herself out there to take advantage of the situation. She wouldn’t say that it had been a decision that she regretted, but she should’ve thought it through a little more. Because she was certain that one-night stands weren’t supposed to call the next day.
Movement in her rearview mirror caught her attention. She glanced at the clock: 11:15 p.m. It had to be Tara. She looked in each side mirror, but there was no one there. “Not funny.” Her heart began to race. She turned in her seat to get a better look behind her, but whatever she had seen was gone. She double-checked her door locks and grabbed her phone. Once out of the safety of her vehicle, she was second-guessing all her most recent decisions, including the one to meet Tara at midnight in a deserted parking garage.
She sent a quick message to Tara. After a few minutes without an answer, she called.
After several rings, the voice mail picked up and Belle disconnected. If Tara was playing a trick on her, she was going to be so pissed. However, if it wasn’t Tara playing a trick then things could be much worse than that. She called Tara again. It was twenty after eleven, and Belle’s feelings of lighthearted nervousness and anxiety turned into something far more disturbing. The hairs on her arms stood on end. She wanted to start her car and haul ass out of there, but something told her not to. What if something had happened to Tara like what had almost happened to her? Belle clutched her phone and grabbed her pepper spray from her purse before she got out of the car and headed toward the museum.
The insanity of her irrational decision to leave the safety of her vehicle and cross the dark street alone wasn’t lost on her. She moved toward the staff door when she heard a rustling behind her. She fumbled with her key card on the panel and typed in her number. A red light flashed at her. “What the hell?” A gust of wind blew past and sent a chill down her spine. Her hands were shaking as she swiped and entered her code again. “Come on,” she said. She was relieved when this time it flashed green and the door clicked open. She rushed inside and closed the door behind her.
*
Roz leaned forward in his seat as he watched the flickering screens in front of him. His men had breached the building and overpowered the guards. The plan execution was in full swing, and soon he would have what he was owed. Nothing and no one would stop him from getting what was his. He tapped his fingers together as he watched Pete and Jesse drag three limp bodies down the long corridor to the elevator.
Roz followed the men across the monitors as the guards were secured in the vault and they made their way back upstairs to begin the final phase. Pete and Jesse entered the Giles Grayson Gallery, and Pete pulled a large razor knife from his pocket. He approached the first painting on the list, Poppy Flowers, Vase with Viscaria, and Roz’s heart raced. He stared as Pete ran his hand up the length of the piece, and with one swift move, stabbed and pulled the knife down the side of the painting. Roz’s heart soared and he laughed out loud. There was once a time when just the thought of this destruction would’ve turned his stomach, but he was invigorated. They would be his.
Jesse yanked a large gilded frame from the hooks and smashed it to the floor. He kicked the shattered splinters of wood aside and ripped the rest from the canvas. Roz hadn’t anticipated how much joy the moment would’ve brought him. He almost wished he was there to watch the destruction unfold right before his eyes.
Movement on a far screen caught his attention and drew him away from the action. A figure stood in the security corridor pressed against the door. Roz squinted at the monitor. His blood boiled when he recognized Belle Winters. He screamed and slammed his fists against the desk. As she made her way toward the lobby, he cursed and picked up his phone. She would not ruin this for him, again.
Chapter Twenty-one
Tara’s head throbbed and her hands were cold and numb. From her side on the hard floor, she looked around through blurry eyes and tri
ed to get her bearings. The floor felt like ice. And considering how cold she was, she could have very well been in a grocery store meat locker. She pulled at her hands, but they were twisted and tied behind her back. Her left shoulder and hip ached from the pressure of her body lying on them for too long. She struggled to sit up but couldn’t find the leverage with her legs tied together.
Tara took long, deep breaths and talked herself into staying calm. As her vision cleared, she recognized a faint and familiar scent. She looked above her and saw Belle’s fluffy pink sweater hanging from the back of her chair. I’m in the vault? She had no idea how she or the men had gotten in there since she didn’t have the card access or the pin code for entry. She listened through the ringing in her ears for the sound of movement in the room but heard nothing. If there had been anyone else with them they were long gone. Tara wriggled herself toward Belle’s desk and used it to sit herself up. With the pressure off her side, her extremities burned to life as the blood flooded back into them. She twisted her hands, but whatever held her bound tightened the more she fought against it. When she heard a quiet groan from the other side of the desk, her heart stopped. “Belle?” Her first thought was that she’d also been attacked as she arrived to meet Tara after her shift. “Belle, are you hurt?”
“No. It’s Xander.”
Tara’s heart sank, but she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or relief. Because if Belle wasn’t captured as well then she was still waiting upstairs for Tara while the men were still in the building. As she started to play out the worst-case scenario, her phone buzzed in her shirt. It did so only once which meant it was a message reminder. Someone had texted or left her a voice mail. She begged the powers-that-be that it was Belle saying she had left or changed her mind about meeting, but Tara’s gut told her otherwise.
“Xander, can you get free?”
“No. My hands are tied so tight I can’t even feel them anymore.”
“Shit. Mine, too.” The helplessness she felt only increased the anxiety she had as the feeling that Belle was in danger grew stronger. Making it worse was the growing anger inside her for Xander and his stupid mistake. She didn’t know what she would do to him if his actions caused her to get hurt. “Damn it all, Xander! What the fuck did you let them in for?” Her anger burst out before she could stop it.
“I’m so sorry, Tara. I wasn’t thinking.”
His response sounded like a whimper, but she was so pissed she didn’t care. She said nothing else to him. The angrier she became, the more her head pounded in her skull. As her body warmed from her increased heart rate, she began to feel the throbbing in the rest of her body. It felt like she’d been hit by a truck, and the pain had her feeling nauseous.
“Where’s Alan?” She hoped that the guard had gotten away and warned the police and, with any luck, Belle.
“He’s here. But I don’t…I don’t think he’s breathing, Tara.”
Her heart felt leaden. She took several deep breaths through her nose to keep herself from being sick. Weak, Tara slid down the side of the desk and rested her face on the ice-cold concrete floor. Her phone buzzed again, and her heart twisted with powerlessness. She hoped with everything she had that Belle was safe somewhere far away from danger.
*
The eerie feeling Belle had on the street followed her into the building. She checked the door again to make sure that it closed behind her. She made her way along the corridor and past the security window. As expected, there was no one on the other side. She scanned her badge at the next door and entered her code. When the light flashed green, she hesitated. Belle couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad waited for her on the other side, but with the dark night her only other option, she chose to enter. She pulled the door open and went inside.
Each step Belle made was cautious as she entered the hall. The stillness of the air was comforting although she wondered why neither Tara nor Xander had met her at the door to confirm her arrival. As she stepped into the lobby, a horrendous crashing noise broke through the silence and Belle yelped. Her heart pounded in her ears as she listened for voices. Hushed mumblings and curses echoed through the hall. She hugged the wall and moved toward the sounds. From behind a glass vitrine she could see through into the Impressionist gallery. Her stomach leapt into her throat and her heart stopped cold in her chest as she watched a tall uniformed man slice Matisse’s painting Pastoral from its frame. She gasped and crouched down against the wall. Her eyes welled up with tears and the pain of what she’d seen cut through her like a canvas. As Belle fumbled for her phone with shaking hands, she heard it ring. “Shit!” she hissed under her breath. She yanked it from her pocket. The phone slipped from her trembling hands and slid across the marble floor several feet in front of her. But it wasn’t her phone that was ringing.
“Yeah?” the man said as he answered it. “I’m on it.”
As she reached out from behind the case, the man on the phone stepped out into the hall. Belle’s eyes met his and they both froze for an instant. She had one option, to run. She wouldn’t be able to grab her phone and make it to the emergency exit in time so she just had to run. As he lunged for her, she sprinted toward the exit. She didn’t look back, but she heard him close behind, his boots stomping once for every three of her strides. She reached out for the bar on the door just as he snatched her hair and pulled her back toward him.
Belle screamed. “Please, don’t.” He covered her mouth and nose with one of his giant hands. She kicked at his legs and feet as he held her tight against him. She scrambled for the canister of spray in her pocket, but she couldn’t breathe. Her nails gouged into the fingers that gripped her face. Her body flailed and she struggled for air until she grew weak. The room began to spin and dim into a hazy darkness. She heard him yell something to his partner, but Belle’s head felt filled with cotton and all she could hear was the sound of her slowing pulse pump through her ears. When she could no longer fight, her arms dropped to her sides like rubber limbs. When the rest of her body went limp, he dropped her. She fell into a heap with a hard, crumbling thump onto the floor.
Belle was alive but too weak to move as she lay on the frigid floor and watched through heavy lids as the two men rolled and crumpled precious and priceless works of art under their careless arms. Belle tried to yell out, but she hadn’t the strength to even open her mouth. Too weak to move, she cried in painful silence as they carried her life and love out the door and into the dark night.
*
Roz watched Belle’s body lay lifeless in the floor in the hall as his men carried his treasure out the front door. It took less than hour for him to resolve twenty years of injustice and restore what was rightfully his. He was elated, but his heart was cold. The damage or the value of his plunder was of no concern to him. All that mattered was that he had what belonged to him, and no one would ever again enjoy what had once filled him with joy. The loss of these works would leave an empty hole in the world not unlike the one in his soul. There wasn’t a single thing anyone could do about it, and now that he had what he wanted, he would die before anybody got close enough to try.
Roz smiled as he shut down the monitors, sat in the pitch dark, and waited patiently for his rewards to arrive.
*
Belle struggled with consciousness for several minutes. She had to get up and pull the alarm. She had to find Tara. She took a few deep breaths and pulled herself up. She was weak and lightheaded as she looked around the room. It took her more time than she would’ve expected to figure out where she was. Belle saw the remnants of wood scattered across the hall in the doorway of the Grayson Gallery and her heart sank. “Oh, God.”
Above her head was the glowing sign for the exit, and she remembered where she was. She pushed herself up and leaned her whole weight against the steel door. When she caught her breath, she reached up with shaking arms and pressed the emergency exit handle. The door fell open against her weight as alarms blasted overhead. Her head rattled and she rolled herself off t
he floor onto soft legs. Belle clutched at the wall to keep herself standing. The police would be there soon, but she couldn’t wait for them to find Xander and Tara. She stumbled along the hallway and called Tara’s name over the mind blasting sound. The farther she went the harder her heart pounded. Fear and anxiety filled her as she searched. Her mind played out the worst scenarios, and she tried to push them from her head.
The quicker her blood pumped the faster she made her way through the building. When Belle got to the end of the hall, she called Tara’s name again. She screamed over the blaring of the alarm, but even if Tara hollered back she wouldn’t have heard her. The wings split in two directions, and Belle didn’t know which way to go. If she chose the wrong way and Tara was badly hurt, she could be too late to help her. Her stomach turned at the thought of finding Tara in that condition. The man who had just suffocated Belle had no idea whether she was alive or dead when he’d tossed her to the ground. The same had no doubt been done with Tara, or worse.
Belle covered her ears from the howl of the alarm. She looked around for any sign of where Tara was taken. The front door at the end of the hall was open, as it had been when she arrived. Belle struggled to make rational thoughts. Had she and Xander escaped before Belle had walked in on the men? No. Those men never would’ve allowed anyone to walk out onto the street and alert authorities. They had to be in the building. Belle crouched down as she gripped her head tighter. Her attention was drawn to an unfamiliar long, dark streak along the floor. As she took a closer look, it resembled a black boot scuff like someone had been dragged along. She tracked the mark that led to the elevator. Belle prepared herself for what she was about to see inside. She held her breath and pressed the button. As the doors chimed and opened, she exhaled. They weren’t in there. But the blood on the floor told her they had been.
