by Tina Michele
*
Belle woke to the sunshine squeezing in through the open blinds. She stretched her legs, and a pleasant soreness reminded her of the evening before. She smiled and rolled over. Belle scolded herself for sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t heard Tara get up. She pushed away the covers, climbed out of bed, and pulled her robe from the closet door.
As she tied the belt around her waist, she headed out into the living room. Belle was surprised to see that Tara was nowhere in sight. “Tara?” Belle called out as she returned to the bedroom. Belle noticed that her clothes were still scattered on the floor, and she smiled.
Belle went back to the living room and pulled back the blinds. She looked down into the driveway, and her heart stuttered when she saw that Tara’s Jeep was gone. Belle tried to keep a rational head. Maybe she went out for coffee? Belle didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. Had she left as soon as Belle had fallen asleep? Belle ran her fingers through her hair and took several deep breaths. She was being irrational. “You’re overreacting, Belle. She wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye,” she told herself.
Then she saw it, a slip of yellow paper on the kitchen island. Her heart dropped into her stomach with a thud. Belle walked over to the kitchen and stared down at the handwritten note. She read it quickly before the tears filled her eyes and blinded her.
My dearest Belle,
I am so sorry. I don’t think I’m ready for this. I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to get a few things straight in my head. I truly wanted to be everything you needed me to be, I’m just not sure I have what you deserve.
Please forgive me.
T
Belle backed down onto a barstool before her legs could give out from beneath her. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed into her hands. She had opened herself up to Tara, given her heart and body willingly, and she’d taken it with a vengeance. Belle had spilled out her soul filled with dreams of love and family, and Tara gathered the pieces. Only to scatter them to the winds.
Belle pushed herself from the stool and stumbled to the couch. Her heart felt as if it was ripping from her chest. A cold chill settled inside her. She clutched at her robe and curled herself into a ball. The words Tara had spoken hours earlier reverberated in her head. “You deserve everything that you’ve ever wanted and so much more.”
Belle desperately wanted one of those things to be Tara. “Everything I could hope for is sitting right here in front of me.” And then they’d made love.
How could she be so stupid? She knew the kind of woman Tara was, and she’d never denied it. But Belle thought she could lock away her heart and play the game. She took Kyle’s advice, against her own judgment, and it got her where she always knew it would—hurt and alone in a crumpled ball on her couch. She ignored every warning sign and alarm just so she could feel what it was like to have Tara, even for a fleeting moment, and in spite of her expectation of disaster, her heart still paid the consequences.
Belle grew angry at herself, at Tara, and at the unfairness of life. How naive could she be to think that she deserved something better than what she already had? Giles had given her the life she never could have dreamed of. He had taken her from squalor and gave her a future. One she never in a million years could have accomplished without his generosity and love. Who was she to think that life owed her something more?
But now, as she wallowed in the misery she had created for herself, she remembered that the life he had given her was gone, too. In her pursuit of Tara, she had taken her eye off the one thing she promised to always protect. From the moment she’d allowed Tara to pull her heart and mind away from the job, all hell broke loose. Her life had officially fallen apart at the seams, and she had no idea how she was going to put any of it back together. She was powerless to correct or control anything. It was all gone—Tara, Giles, and the collection. As if someone had literally stolen the sun, her world was cast in shadow.
Belle stared at the floor as she lay on the couch. Her arm hung down onto the floor and her face was pressed into the cushion. She hadn’t the strength or motivation to move, but she needed to get out of the house or she’d go crazy. She pushed herself off the sofa, snatched random clothes from the laundry basket, and put them on. She grabbed her keys and phone off the counter and left. She didn’t know where she was going; she just went.
*
Belle drove around until she found herself in downtown Altamonte near Rosenberg’s Gallery. Belle was deafened by the sound of blood as it whooshed in her ears. She clutched the steering wheel with her sweating palms while her heart pounded in her chest. Her head swirled with ideas. She told herself that she wasn’t going to do anything stupid or try to be some sort of superhero. She just wanted to see if what her instincts were telling her was correct, and then she would call Agent Campbell.
Belle drove past the storefront twice before she selected the perfect parking spot across the street. She pulled forward into the slip that angled toward the store. She could see the shop ahead, as well as anyone who went in or out. She reclined her seat and slunk down behind the wheel. Two large SUVs flanked her small car so she felt secure that she wouldn’t be seen by random passersby. Belle’s anxiety was in overdrive, but she also felt an unexpected sense of exhilaration.
She sat in her car and focused all her attention on the activity, or lack of it, around the gallery. When a couple approached, Belle took out her phone and snapped a few photos of them as they entered. She didn’t recognize them, and she had no idea what she would do with the pictures. The only thing she knew about surveillance or stakeouts was what she had learned watching NCIS reruns. She decided that she might want to stop watching so many crime dramas.
Several people came and went from the store in the first hour, and no one looked suspicious or familiar. Unless she could get inside, there was no way he was going to walk out with the stolen art, and in spite of what she was starting to feel, she wasn’t that stupid. A sense of unease began to wash over her. What am I doing? Belle, you’re not Angela fucking Lansbury for Christ’s sake! Call the damn police! She had tried to convince herself that there was no connection, yet here she was pretending to be some sort of private investigator because of a feeling she couldn’t shake. She had lost her damn mind.
Belle pulled her phone from her purse and dialed Detective Campbell. “Hi, Detective. This is Belle Winters.”
“Belle, what can I do for you?” he asked.
“I think I know who may have been behind the robbery,” Belle whispered.
“Uhm, why are you whispering? Where are you?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer his question. If she told him the truth, he would blow a gasket, if he believed her. But if she lied to him, he would know it. Caught off guard, without even a relatively believable fib, she told him. “I’m sitting outside the Rosenberg Gallery in Altamonte. I think Otto Rosenberg might be behind the stolen collection. I was doing some research and I think he might be behind the whole thing. He sued Giles for the collection after a falling out, and he lost. Plus, I’m pretty certain that he deals in stolen art.”
“Miss Winters, that is not a good idea. I need you to get in your car and get out of there immediately.” Detective Campbell’s voice was stern and loud.
“But what about—”
“We know all of this already. We made the final connections this morning and the FBI TAC team is preparing to respond to his gallery. Get out of there now!” His voice was shrill to the point Belle thought dogs would start to howl.
“Okay. I’m just sitting in my car. I thought if I could see him with the art that maybe—”
“Belle, you are in serious danger being anywhere near him or his shop. Where is Tara?”
Belle’s stomach twisted at first, and then a fire rose in her chest. “Tara? I don’t know. I came here on my own. I don’t need her.”
“Ms. Winters, you are not safe. Leave now.”
“Okay. I’m leaving,” she said as she turned the key in th
e ignition. But as the engine turned over a loud click reverberated in her ear.
“Hang up,” a deep voice commanded.
“Belle? Who is that? Belle, answer me,” Campbell shouted.
Belle lowered the phone, and a man reached in and snatched it from her. Belle could hear Detective Campbell calling her name as the man threw it onto the ground and stomped it into pieces. “Get out.”
Terror coursed through her veins as Belle did as she was told. “I was just sitting—”
“Shut up and move.” He pressed the gun to her back and forced her across the street toward the gallery she’d been watching for the last few hours.
Belle felt the blood rush from her body as she marched on trembling legs into the building. When he locked the deadbolt behind them, Belle felt the jolt in every nerve ending. He pushed her forward hard and she stumbled. “Please. I—”
“I said shut up.” He pushed her again, and she fell through a large tapestry that obscured the opening behind it.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Tara had driven around for a couple of hours as the sun rose from early morning. She drove without destination or purpose, but she kept herself moving. She found herself at Cate’s store just as she arrived to open. Tara lingered near the entrance as Cate approached.
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” Cate looked down at her watch and then back to Tara.
“Nothing. Well…maybe…I don’t know.” Tara ran her hands through her hair and tousled it in frustration. “I left.”
“Left what?” Cate reached out and pulled at Tara’s hand.
“Not what, who. Belle. This morning. I had a dream. When I woke up, I freaked out and left.”
“Please tell me you didn’t leave without telling her.”
“I told her. Sort of.”
“You left a note didn’t you?” Cate sighed before Tara even admitted to it.
Tara followed Cate back to her office and slumped down into one of the chairs. “I didn’t know what else to do. The dream it was just so real.”
Cate sat in her own chair and leaned forward across her desk. “What was it about?”
“It was crazy. We were married and pregnant and I was buying groceries. I…who…I never in a million years, Cate.” Tara could barely string a complete sentence together.
“Oh. Wow.” Cate sat back in her chair and stared at Tara.
“I know. So I woke up and got my stuff and bolted.”
“Okay. But before you woke up, how did it make you feel?”
Tara rolled her eyes at Cate. “What are you, a shrink?”
“Sometimes. So?”
“Ugh. I don’t know. It felt…” Tara let herself remember the dream she’d tried all morning to forget. How had she felt? It wasn’t until she woke up that the fear and panic set in. Tara could see Belle’s intoxicating smile and beautiful swollen belly as if she stood in front of her. Tara smiled. “It felt nice.”
“Huh. Okay. So why did you run?”
“I don’t know. It was the only thing I could do. I mean, part of me wanted to wake her up and tell her about it. But then what?”
“What do you mean? It was a dream, Tara. It wasn’t real.”
“But what if a part of me wanted it to be real?”
“Oh.” Cate’s eyes grew wider than Tara had ever seen.
“I mean it wasn’t the dream that freaked me out. It was my reaction to it. I was disappointed, Cate.” Tara rubbed her face with her hands. She couldn’t believe that she was saying it out loud.
Cate pushed out of her chair and came around to Tara’s side. She knelt beside her and rubbed her leg. “Sweetie, this might be the best thing that has ever happened to you. You cannot let your fear keep you from holding on to it.”
“I left her a note. I told her that I didn’t have what she deserves. And maybe I don’t. What have I ever done that makes me worthy of having someone as amazing as she is? She’s struggled through her entire life, yet she still has so much hope and love. I can’t compete with that. What can I give her that she hasn’t already gotten for herself?”
“Love, Tara.”
“I heard her say it,” Tara admitted quietly.
“Say what?”
“That she loved me. But I didn’t say it back. I felt it. I wanted to, but I couldn’t get the words out.”
Cate smiled and covered her mouth as her eyes sparkled. “You love her?”
“Yes. I think so. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. But I just know I broke her heart. I took everything she offered and then I walked away. Her pride is as strong as her passion, how do I…” Tara sighed in defeat.
“Go and tell her. Tell her that you’re sorry. Tell her that you’re a big doofus. Tell her that you love her, Tara.”
“You think it’s just that easy, huh? Knock on her door and say ‘Sorry about the note, but I love you?’”
“What is there to lose? She either forgives you or she doesn’t, but how will you know if you just sit here and beat yourself up for your mistakes?”
Tara knew Cate was right. And if she had any chance of making it right, she had to move. It had taken her all her life to find love. She couldn’t let it slip from her hands now. “Okay!” Tara stood up. “I have to go.”
Tara drove like a bat out of hell back to Belle’s apartment. She turned into the driveway and was out of her seat before she even killed the engine. As she rounded the Jeep toward the steps, Kyle bolted out of the house. He screamed at her, “Tara! It’s Belle!” Tara’s stomach leapt into her throat at the way he screamed her name.
“Kyle, what’s wrong? Where’s Belle?” Just then, she noticed that her car wasn’t parked in front her place.
“Get in the car, now!” he ordered Tara as he dialed Belle’s number on his phone. “Andrew!” he shouted back toward the house.
Andrew came out of the house and slammed the door behind him. Tara had no idea what was happening.
Andrew ran past her. “Get in the car!”
Tara jumped into the backseat as Andrew started the car and sped out of the driveway.
“She’s not answering. It’s going straight to voice mail,” Kyle said.
“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Tara asked as Andrew took the corner so fast that she was flung across the backseat. “Fuck!”
“Agent Gulker called.”
Tara’s heart stopped short. She listened as he explained that Belle thought Roz was involved in the heist and that she had gone that morning to his store in Altamonte. “What?” Tara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why would she do that?”
“We don’t know. But Detective Campbell was telling her to leave when the phone cut out.”
“What do you mean cut out?”
“He heard a man’s voice and then nothing. I think she was right about Rosenberg and now they have her,” Kyle said to Tara.
“This cannot be happening,” Tara said in shock.
“This might be the dumbest shit she’s ever done.” Kyle growled as he slammed his fist on the dashboard.
“Relax, babe. She didn’t know what she was walking into. And if she was in her car, there was no reason for her to think she was really in danger.”
“Spying on a man in connection with a multimillion dollar art heist by a gang of criminals who tried to kill three people doesn’t scream fucking danger?”
“I know. I was just—”
“I’m sorry. But they have her, Andrew.”
“I know.”
Tara’s head was spinning. She was consumed with fear and helplessness. Her vision faded in and out, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She blamed herself for the danger that Belle was in. Had Tara not left her that morning, had she made her call the FBI about her suspicions, Belle would still be safe in her arms.
*
Belle landed on all fours onto a hard concrete surface. Stacked against the walls around the room were rows of art and paintings. He pulled her up off the fl
oor by her hair and sat her at a large table. On the table in the center of the room was a large overturned canvas and gold frame. It was clear that it was in the final steps of being mounted for display, but there were two canvases instead of one.
A corner of the top canvas curled up and exposed a ragged edge. Belle reached over and turned more up. She recognized the colors and brushstrokes of Lempicka’s La Musicienne and she gasped. She stood to turn the entire piece when she was knocked back down into her seat. “Please. Let me go. I promise I won’t—”
“Tie her down!” a voice commanded. “You won’t what? Tell anyone that you found Grayson’s precious collection? I find that hard to believe considering what you’ve gone through to get here.”
Belle pulled against the rope that locked her wrists behind her. She turned her head toward the voice behind her and recognized the man as Roz. “Please, why are you doing this?”
“Why are you doing this?” He mocked her. “What does it matter to you? You should be dead,” he said matter-of-factly as he pulled his gun from his waistband and pointed it at her chest.
Every last breath of air rushed from her lungs. Belle gasped and turned her face away from the muzzle. “No! Roz, don’t.”
“Give me one good reason. And for the record, none of them will be good enough.”
“Giles.”
Roz laughed like a maniac. “You’re kidding, right? Out of all the reasons you could give to save your life you choose that. I should kill you right now for even mentioning his name.” He jerked the weapon at her.
Belle flinched. “Why me? I didn’t do anything to you.”