When We Break

by Cheryl Phipps

  Afterward, there were only long sighs lost amongst the quiet.

  There was a lot to discuss, so much was still a mystery, but for now, this would do.

  When Nick was capable, he brought the wine to Talia’s bedroom when she said she was thirsty, but they needed no food. Tonight was their night, and he intended not to waste any time with other distractions.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  That night paved the way for many more, and nearly a week later, they lay in front of the fireplace, watching the firelight flicker over their bodies. It was romantic, with no hint of embarrassment since they’d seen each other naked so often over the last few days.

  “I had no idea it could be like this.” Talia wrapped her arms around his neck while her leg draped itself over his hips.

  “What do you mean?” He brushed her hair back from her face and nuzzled that place between her ear and neck that she seemed to like so much.

  “All of it. Great sex and then this part, where we talk—or don’t—and nothing else matters. It’s exciting and comfortable, and I’ve never felt so happy or relaxed with a man. I’m not constantly worried I may do or have done something wrong.”

  He thought about it and nodded. “I never noticed I hadn’t felt that way before, but it’s true. You make me feel like that, and I like it.” He kissed her again, feeling guilty as hell.

  Now was the time to tell her the latest updates on Randall and Chloe, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to ruin the mood, and selfishly he wanted her one last time before she knew to what lengths he’d had to go to fix things.

  It wasn’t like he intended to deceive her, but Randall was out there, waiting for an opportunity to get Talia alone. After much thought, Nick decided that he would be the one to orchestrate it, to have it happen on his terms. The only way for his plan to work was to keep Talia in the dark, and she would hate him for it.

  Everything hinged on Emma right now, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but having weighed all the options, Nick could find no alternative.

  The tightening in his gut was always a sign that things were coming to a head. Could he count on his team?

  What if Randall was still pulling strings?

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The search continued for Chloe, and though every day Talia hoped for her return, she could no longer confine herself to the house. Doing nothing didn't help and made her more miserable with too much time to dwell on what might have happened.

  Nick persuaded her to contact Bill Graham, her old friend and boss, who was delighted to hear from her. In the process of buying a new gallery, Bill planned to focus on local talent. As this was something close to her heart, the two spent hours discussing ideas over the phone.

  Bill was hoping she would come back and still was no wiser about her sudden departure months ago. Her explanation of sickness and hospitalization seemed to suffice, and knowing that the job was perfect, Talia was finally excited about something—other than Nick. There was another bonus—a place to show off her work, if and when she felt like painting again.

  Today was her first day back at work, and Talia looked in the mirror, aware that the black rings under her eyes were gone. Guilt over being happy plagued her, but the truth was that having someone who loved you the way you loved them was a fantastic remedy for nightmares.

  She blushed when she thought about their lovemaking. Nothing had prepared her for the depth of feelings she had for Nick and how she responded to his touch. Just thinking of him made her smile.

  Sadness over Chloe was always there and would be until they were reunited, but living in despair had clouded her judgment, and Nick gave her hope. It was simply easier to cope with someone by your side—someone who cared.

  Nick spent a lot of time with her and was living in the house. Today he'd left for work early, and for some reason, she'd been a little on edge. The feeling that someone watched when she went to the letterbox persisted and she ensured all the doors and windows were locked. Maybe it was her imagination, and after all that had happened it was to be expected that she'd be a little paranoid. Although, when Nick was here, she didn't feel that way.

  Putting the finishing touches to her makeup, Talia rechecked the mirror. While not particularly vain, the accident and surgery made a subtle difference to her appearance, and she often checked to see if she was still the same person. And hopefully hadn't changed so much that Chloe wouldn’t recognize her.

  She'd finally put on some weight and was sleeping better. Work would boost her self-esteem and give her back the independence she'd lost when she'd married Randall. His control and vindictiveness, soon after their marriage, had kept her from her friends. And when her family died, the isolation was complete.

  Chloe was still on her mind most of the day, and tears were never far away if she thought too hard about what could have happened to her child. Nick assured her his people were out there looking at every facet of Randall's life, and she trusted he would find her daughter. She had to believe because the alternative would make her want to curl up and die, and she'd been down that road already.

  Watchful of her surroundings, Talia got into her car. A voice behind her made her freeze.

  "Good morning, Talia. It's so nice to meet you in person finally. You and I will be taking a little drive. Someone we both know is dying to see you."

  Pressed against the far side of the car, she couldn't see much of him in the rear mirror. "Who are you? What do you want?' Her voice was surprisingly calm.

  "No questions—just drive and don't turn around. We don't want anyone to suspect you may have someone in here, do we?'

  "I'm not going anywhere with you."

  His laugh was almost a cackle, sending shivers up her spine.

  "Randall said you might be difficult, but I think you'll do as I say if you want to see your daughter."

  Needing no other incentive, Talia backed out of the driveway and followed his directions. They were heading away from town, which wasn't good. Would Randall really bring Chloe to her?

  "Pull into the next driveway and up to the house."

  Her heart sank. It was Bill Graham's house. The gates were usually shut, with a security guard on duty around the clock. This was the only entrance, so why were the gates open?

  As soon as the car stopped, the man jumped out and yanked her door open. He was dark-haired with a beak nose and a thin mouth. His eyes made him look feral.

  "Into the house." he barked and pushed her in front of him so that she stumbled up the marble steps.

  The house was an old mansion she'd helped decorate. Bill was a distinguished older gentleman who'd lived off his inherited fortune until he'd bought the gallery. Then he'd spent his days acquiring property and valuable paintings. He had given her that first job when she'd finished her studies, taught her everything she knew about art, and had become like a second father to her. It was him she'd been trying to protect when she'd refused to continue to help Randall. She was not about to let anything happen to him now.

  Walking through the large, open front doors, it took a while for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer interior. She gasped at the inert form lying just inside the door. Bill Graham lay on his back in a pool of blood, his eyes staring upwards and a large hole in his chest.

  "We're here," the man announced, pushing her past the body towards Bill's study.

  "Come in, come in," called a familiar voice as they entered. "Hello, Talia, so glad you could join us once more. I imagine it's quite a surprise to see me here, and I believe you know, Kirk." He pointed to her dear friend, who was on his knees in front of Randall.

  Rooted to the spot, she could only stare at the other man who'd done so much for her. Kirk looked up and shook his head slightly. Don't tell him anything, his eyes said. Play dumb, buy some time. Kirk was right; Randall being here was a sign that Chloe could be near.

  Randall took a step closer. "I don't expect you to be delighted to see me, but there's no need to be so horrified. You
're looking well - it must be all that time spent with your detective. Don't look surprised. You were pretty easy to find, and besides, I have others keeping me up to date." He closed the distance between and ran a finger down her scar. "It's not as bad as being dead, is it?'

  Talia flinched but held her ground.

  "Let's get to the point of you being here. Which of these paintings did you supply Mr. Graham with?"

  Talia was surprised at the sudden change of conversation. "It was done over a long period–I can't possibly remember all the paintings he purchased."

  "Narrow it down to the two months before your accident."

  She glared. "That was no accident, and I'm afraid I don't remember anything from that time."

  "You're lying," he said cooly, slapping her face for good measure.

  "After that beating, I'm lucky to function as well as I do." Her voice held so much venom, surprising even her.

  Randall wasn't buying any of it. He slapped her harder. "I suggest you have a rapid memory recovery if you want your friend here to live any longer."

  She had momentarily forgotten Kirk in the heat of their argument and looked down guiltily at him, kneeling so stoically. A small trickle of blood ran from his nose, and Talia attempted to go to his aide, but the other man held her arm. "Is Kirk okay?'

  "He is for now. Tell me which paintings?'

  "I'm not telling you anything. You're going to kill me anyway, so why should I help you now?'

  He looked at her thoughtfully. "There are far too many paintings for me to check in the time I have, and one, in particular, holds the key to a very important safety deposit box. Since Kirk probably can't help me and you are refusing to, I may as well get rid of you both right now. Naturally, I had intended to take you with me to see your daughter, but I guess that's not as important as spending time with your detective." He pulled a gun from his waistband and shot Kirk through the leg.

  Kirk merely grunted. She could see the pain in his eyes, but he said firmly, "Don't tell him, Talia. It won't make a bit of difference to what he does to us. Let the bastard sweat for a change."

  She felt a wave of love and pity for the man who'd done so much for her. He certainly didn't deserve to die like this. How many more friends and family would be killed because of her before this nightmare ended? She was his only chance even if all she could do was buy some time. Suddenly an idea came to her, and it was her last hope.

  "Okay. I'll take you to them if you promise to give me Chloe and let Kirk go. Look at him—he's no threat to you." She pointed to the ropes that bit into his wrists and ankles.

  Randall grinned. "I hardly think you're in any position to make deals, Talia."

  She shrugged. "Take it or leave it because that's my final offer."

  She could tell he'd been expecting her refusal, and as usual, he'd already decided on his next step.

  "Very well. Larry put Kirk in his car out front, making sure he understands that if he tries to leave before we give him the all-clear, we'll shoot him."

  Larry untied Kirk's feet, and half dragged him to the front door. Now Talia had to do as she'd promised. Leading Randall up to the gallery on the next floor, she pointed to a lovely sunset. "This is one of ours. It was delivered just before you had me beaten and left me for dead."

  He didn't react and pushed her into a chair several feet away. Taking the painting off the wall, he lay it face down on a leather couch. Pulling a wicked-looking knife from his belt, Randall slashed the back from corner to corner. He felt around the inside of the frame. Failing to find what he was looking for, he threw it from him. "Next?'

  She flinched at the treatment of this great work of art, but pointed to another, smaller one. "That one, there."

  Again and again, the same scenario played out, until, Randall had enough. He gestured to the trashed gallery. "I don't believe these were all your company's works. You're messing with me, and it stops now. I appreciate that you place no value on your life, and it seems even the old assassin downstairs doesn't invoke enough sympathy, but how would you feel if I had another chat with your friend, Nick? I know where he lives when he's not with you, and I do owe him for ruining my deal. Does it make any difference to you if he dies today?"

  Talia couldn't take the chance that he was bluffing. It had been only about Chloe, but now more people were involved. People she cared about who didn't deserve what she knew Randall was capable of dishing out. She took a deep breath.

  "Mr. Graham's wife passed away about a year ago. He had a photo of her that we had one of our up-and-coming artists copy into an oil painting. I believe this was the last delivery."

  "That sounds perfect. Now, where exactly is it hanging?"

  Talia shrugged. "I have no idea. If you remember, because of you, I was not around at that precise time to accept delivery and get it hanged."

  Randall took a menacing step towards her. "Don't give me any more attitude, or you'll be very sorry."

  "Perhaps we should try his bedroom?" she said quickly.

  He gestured with the knife. "Lead on, then."

  She kept ahead of him but didn't hurry. Sure enough, the portrait hung above the bed. It was an exact likeness of the pleasant woman, Talia met several times before her sudden death. The sentimentality was lost on Randall, who leaped onto the bed and hoisted it off the wall. Placing it none too carefully on the duvet, he gave it the same treatment he'd given the others.

  "Gotcha," he yelled triumphantly. The hand he held high above his head had a key dangling from one finger.

  "How did you know it was there?"

  "I didn't. The old man wasn't scared to die. He refused to say, no matter what Larry did to him, where the key was, only that it was in the back of a painting. I might have persevered had I known just how many pictures the old boy had."

  Talia grimaced at the thought of Bill being tortured. "How could you? He was a sweet man and no harm to you."

  "Blame yourself. If you'd been a loving wife, then none of this would have happened."

  "Don't talk to me about love. You had an agenda from the beginning which had nothing to do with love."

  "Well, that is true," he smirked. "You know, I don't believe I told you about how your family enjoyed their last boat trip, did I? We were all having such a good time until they realized I wanted everything they had, including you. Like I've said before–I always get what I want."

  Talia gasped. "It was you? All this time, I believed it was an accident."

  Her head felt like it would burst with the knowledge that her family was murdered. It all fell into place—her family dying under strange circumstances was a lie. How had she let him talk her into accepting what the police said? Because she'd been trusting and weak. She wasn't that person anymore. A rage she'd never known flowed from her soul, and she let it wash over her, welcomed it.

  "You killed them." Talia launched herself at him, and they fell over the bed onto the floor with her on his back. She pinned Randall's arm behind him, but he elbowed her in the stomach. Gasping, she looked up to find him standing over her. The knife, lost in the scuffle, was replaced by the gun at her head.

  "Now I'm bored with all of this. I've got things to do." He clicked off the safety.

  Talia couldn't stop her eyes from widening at a welcome yet infuriating realization.

  Randall watched her face, probably enjoying her shock and fear, but when he saw her sudden surprise, he followed her gaze. A red dot shimmered on his chest, and like Talia, immediately recognized it for what it was.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  He'd already turned slightly towards the window, which crashed in when a shot rang out. Randall clutched his chest and fell to the floor, wearing a look of unbelievability.

  Nick pushed through the jagged glass and torn curtains. He kicked Randall's gun across the room and checked for a pulse. "He's dead,' he said with satisfaction.

  Talia stood numbly for a moment, wanting to celebrate her freedom, but devastated that the one person who knew w
here Chloe was, could no longer tell them.

  "What will we do now? How will I ever find her?" She whispered, but Nick didn't appear to hear her. He tried to pull her into his arms

  "It's going to be okay. Randall did exactly what we expected, and now he'll never hurt you again."

  And that was when she realized Nick must have known what was going to happen today, and he'd used her as bait.

  "What have you done? My daughter's out there somewhere while you've been playing this game of cat and mouse, and now that Randall's dead, we've lost our last chance to find her." Tears ran down her face, and she was blind to everything but her pain.

  Until Jack burst through the doorway, he stopped when he saw Randall's lifeless body and put his gun back in his holster.

  "If you two are okay, there's someone downstairs, waiting to see you," he said to Talia.

  "Kirk!" She suddenly remembered her friend, battered, and bleeding. Racing down the stairs, she found him in the entranceway on an antique sofa. He was crooning softly, and when he lifted his head, Talia saw the most beautiful sight.

  "Chloe?" Laughing and crying, Talia knelt and opened her arms to her child, praying Chloe would not be afraid of the mother she hadn't seen in months. The little girl's eyes were as big as saucers, and she froze for a second, then squealed.

  "Mamma, Mamma!'

  Talia gasped with relief. There had always been the fear that her child would have forgotten her.

  Chloe jumped down from the big man's lap, causing a wince as he held his bleeding leg, and then she was running to Talia, who pulled the quivering bundle into her arms.

  "I don't know how to thank you, Kirk," she sobbed over her daughter's head.

  The poor man had suffered at the hands of Randall and his men, but he smiled as if it was of no consequence.

  Jack intervened. "Nick found her, but Emma and I had to wait for Randall to leave before we could get to her. She was dirty but healthy enough, and she's been cleared by a doctor already."