I thought of the scars that stretched across my lower back and abdomen…and Thomas’s hand around the knife. “Yes. He’s extremely dangerous.”
“Do you think he had something to do with what happened today? Maybe he saw the photograph on the front page of the paper and became jealous.”
“It’s possible, but he would have to be working with someone because if it really was Thomas that I saw on the street, there was a different person already inside the apartment, which means someone else killed François.” I shivered again at the thought that it so easily could have been me leaving the apartment in a body bag.
“Do you remember what happened with Thomas in the past? Why he would be here, looking for you? Wanting to harm you?”
We arrived at the front door of the club on the bustling corner of Boulevard Saint-Germain. “I only remember one incident—one really awful incident—in bits and pieces. My memory…it’s still not all there.” I searched Antoine’s eyes for the doubt I’d seen in them last night and earlier on the bridge, but it was gone.
Antoine really believed me.
“Is there anyone you can ask about this man, to get a better idea of what happened with him before?”
“I can ask Titine, my best friend. She would know.”
“Talk to her as soon as you can. We need to gather as much information as possible because I have hired a private investigator to help me with Gisèle’s case. I will ask him to find this man, Thomas Riley, and also to investigate François’s wife and Véronique. I will call him as soon as I get back to the hospital. In the meantime, you should not be walking around the streets alone, in plain view. With everything going on, it is not safe.”
I eyed the door of the club, knowing it was time to go inside and face the music. But as Antoine squeezed my hand, I realized that if I had to be in this crazy world, there was nowhere I’d rather be than standing next to him.
“You are not too excited to go back in the club, I see. You have a show tonight, n’est-ce pas?”
“Yes, a big show. And between the article that came out this morning and me missing rehearsal, Jean-Pierre is not going to be happy. Let alone once I tell him what has happened to François.” My temples began to throb again.
“Let me come inside with you.”
I remembered the way Antoine had snuck into the wings yesterday to find me. “That probably isn’t the best idea. Jean-Pierre doesn’t like you very much, does he?”
“He doesn’t want me here, asking questions, trying to find out who killed my sister. He wants to pretend it never happened so business can run as usual. Le connard. But I am not so stupid. And from everything I heard about him from Gisèle, I know that things are not going to go well between you and him today. I am coming with you.” Antoine started for the door, but I placed a firm hand on his chest, stopping him.
“Antoine, thank you, really. But I have to do this on my own. I don’t want you to involve yourself in any more of this mess than you have to. You have enough to deal with right now. And you’ve already helped me so much. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ll deal with Jean-Pierre. I’m sure you have to get back to the hospital.”
“Only if you are sure, Ruby.”
“I’m sure.”
“I will call you later today if I receive any information on Thomas Riley, or on the other suspects. And please call me if you need anything. Anything at all.” He squeezed my hand one last time, his intense gaze piercing right through to my heart, making my legs weak. And just like I had so many times already, I remembered Antoine. I remembered this moment. His hand wrapped around mine.
A bitter wind swept down the busy Boulevard Saint-Germain, taking my flash of a memory with it.
“Thank you, Antoine. Thank you for believing me.”
SEVENTEEN
The sound of jazzy piano keys and the plucking of bass boomed through the air as I walked through the dark lobby and into the club. I spotted Titine, Véronique, and Delphine all onstage, lined up with about seven other dancers, an empty spot in the middle where I should’ve been.
Jean-Pierre loomed at the foot of the stage, his arms crossed, a cigarette permanently glued to his lips. “Encore!” he growled at the dancers.
Just before the women took their places, he flicked his cigarette into an ashtray and met eyes with me. “Arrêtez la musique,” he called to the musicians.
The dancers followed Jean-Pierre’s heavy gaze until every eye in the club was on me.
“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Mademoiselle,” he spat from across the club.
With my head held high, I stalked toward him, determined not to show how scared I really felt. Ruby surely knew how to handle this raging, immature man. So I could too. “Jean-Pierre, I need to speak with you in private about why I haven’t been here all morning. Something has happened.”
He met me in the center of the club, his dark eyes flashing. “Yes, Ruby. Something has happened, hasn’t it?” He leaned into me and whispered in my ear. “You did not handle the situation with François, and now it is all over the papers. I assume he will not want to contribute to the club any longer, which means your career here is suddenly not looking so stable.”
I cringed at the scent of his stale cigarette breath while a violent, hot rage threatened to boil over inside of me. I knew I should keep my mouth shut and stick to telling Jean-Pierre what had happened to François this morning, but I couldn’t stifle my ill feelings for this man any longer.
“You sick, pitiful man. All you care about is money. You don’t care that the woman who made your club a success was killed in cold blood right here, under your roof, less than a week ago. You expect everyone to keep on going, to pretend it never happened, all so you can keep the money flowing into your greedy little pockets! And you want me to hide the truth: that you were whoring me out to François Lefevre just so he would keep investing in the club.”
Before I could get another word out, Jean-Pierre slapped me across the face, the sting of his hit making me stumble to the ground. When I lifted my throbbing head, I spotted a fist slamming into Jean-Pierre’s jaw.
It was Antoine’s.
“Fils de pute,” Jean-Pierre mumbled as he cradled his jaw in his hand, then walked toward Antoine and spat in his face.
Gasps erupted from the dancers onstage as Antoine tackled Jean-Pierre to the ground and punched him once again, harder this time. “Gisèle would still be here if it weren’t for you,” Antoine seethed in French. Then he climbed off of Jean-Pierre and stood over him, shaking his head. “If you ever touch Ruby again, I will not be as kind as I was this time.”
Jean-Pierre winced but chose to stay silent this time. And judging by the way Antoine was still eyeing him, Jean-Pierre had no other choice.
Antoine walked toward me and offered his hand. “Come, Ruby. Let’s get you upstairs.”
He wrapped his arm around me and led me back past Jean-Pierre, who was still scowling on the ground, Véronique now kneeling at his side. “Do not forget, ma chérie,” he called after me. “You were the one who arranged the deal with François Lefevre in the first place. You wanted to be his whore. But after what you have done to his career, I doubt he will want you anymore.”
Antoine clenched his fists at his side, but I held on to his arm and fought this one for him.
“You’re right, Jean-Pierre. He won’t want me anymore because he’s dead.”
Upstairs, Antoine rinsed his bleeding knuckles in my bathroom sink while I stood in the doorway, noticing the way his chest rose and fell in quick, heavy breaths, the red splotches of anger on his cheeks that wouldn’t disappear.
I remembered feeling that same anger after my father had been taken from me. I’d wanted to blame everyone and anyone, but mostly, I blamed myself. I’d felt so helpless, so lost. I wanted to tell Antoine that I knew what he was going through, but how could I open up to him when the stories I would share were not even from Ruby’s l
ife?
Antoine lathered his hands so violently, the bleeding actually worsened. I reached past him, turned off the water, and laid a hand on his arm.
“I know how this feels,” I said softly. “To lose someone you love.”
Antoine gripped the edge of the sink, his voice tinged with desperation. “Gisèle, she…she was so much more than a sister to me. She was only a little girl when we lost our parents, and with no other family, I was the one who raised her. It was up to me to protect her. To make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. This wasn’t supposed to happen, Ruby. I never wanted her to be the star. Not with that monster downstairs running the show. So I came to every performance…every single show, to make sure she was okay. That none of these men were harming her, taking advantage of her. But last Saturday, I was called to the hospital for an emergency surgery, and I…I didn’t make it to the show. I wasn’t here to protect her.” Antoine lifted his face to mine, the look in his eyes so full of regret, it was almost impossible to bear.
“And now she’s gone,” he whispered, shaking away the emotions, the pain that engulfed him.
Antoine turned to me, a broken man. A man who wouldn’t rest until he found justice for his sister. I knew that look in his eyes. It was the same one I’d carried with me my entire life.
“When I said earlier that I knew how you felt, I meant it,” I said. “When I was ten years old, my father was murdered in front of me.”
Antoine blinked then refocused on my face, as if he hadn’t heard me right. “I am so sorry, Ruby. I had no idea.”
“I had a chance to stop it, but I hesitated. I couldn’t do it.”
Antoine’s hand found mine, the warmth of his touch making me lose my defenses. I hadn’t talked about my father’s death in years. I’d locked the terrifying memories up in a bottle and thrown them out to sea long ago.
But here in the safety of Antoine’s gaze, his touch, his embrace, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“My father came from a big family of politicians…a family that had a lot of supporters and, unfortunately, its fair share of enemies too. My dad was just about to run for a seat in the United States Senate, and if all went well, he even had hopes of one day running for president. He was handsome, intelligent, caring, larger-than-life, and the people loved him. He would’ve won the election. I know he would’ve. But the night before a huge debate was supposed to take place, someone broke into our home…and they weren’t there for money.
“I was upstairs, asleep. My mother’s cry woke me up. I knew something was wrong right away, by the way she was whimpering, pleading. She was so young—only twenty-eight at the time. I heard my dad’s voice too. It was firm but calm. He was like that under pressure, always in control. He was used to speaking in public, used to being put on the spot. But when I heard him telling the intruder he would give him as much money as he wanted, I knew the man must’ve had a gun pointed at them. Otherwise my dad would’ve already taken him down. He never would’ve let anyone harm me or my mom.”
“But I do not understand. If you were only ten, how could you have stopped this from happening?” Antoine asked.
“Somehow, I just knew it was up to me to save them. So I tiptoed into my dad’s bedroom, found the gun he’d always stashed in his nightstand—the gun he’d told me never to touch—and crept down the stairs. The man who’d broken in had a black mask drawn over his face and a gun pointed at my parents. My dad told him to take anything he wanted from the house, but it was clear that the man in the mask wasn’t there to rob my parents. He was there to kill my father. I pointed the gun right at his back and held my finger over the trigger. My mom saw me, and in between her cries, she nodded at me to do it. She wanted me to shoot him…but I hesitated. And that one moment of hesitation cost my father his life.”
Antoine stared deeply into my eyes, and for the first time since I arrived here in Ruby’s body, in Ruby’s life, he really saw me. The real me.
He reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ears. “You were only a child, Ruby. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It took me years to believe that…and sometimes I still don’t think I do. There are days when the guilt consumes me, makes me wonder what the point is. But I guess the point is that I survived.” I laid a hand on Antoine’s chest. “And you will too, Antoine. You will. In the meantime, I’ll do anything to help you find out who did this to your sister.”
Antoine lowered his face to mine, his eyes not masking the pain that had taken over his life, the loss that I knew all too well ruled every waking moment. He breathed heavily as he stepped closer to me, then wrapped his arms around my waist, fisting my sweater in his strong hands.
I tilted my head as his lips hovered over mine, his racing chest pressed up against me. He pushed my back into the wall, traced his hands up the sides of my body and over my shoulders, sending shivers down my spine. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, I could hardly bear it.
Finally he cupped my chin in his hands and brushed his lips over mine, the warmth of his kiss so inviting, I could’ve stayed locked in the heat of his body, of his kiss, forever.
Our mouths pressed together a little harder as Antoine wrapped his fingers around my hips and pulled me closer to him. An aching, an intense desire I’d never before experienced, crept from my chest down to my stomach and finally settled in between my thighs, where Antoine’s hips ground into mine.
His lips roamed over my mouth, then down the nape of my neck, his pent-up need pouring into his touch, into this intense connection we shared.
But as quickly as he’d taken me into his arms, he pulled away, his lips distancing from mine. He traced the outline of my face with his finger and blinked as he took a step back.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…it’s not the right time.” His hand dropped from my face, leaving a cool draft in its place…and a desire for more.
“I should go, Ruby. This will only complicate things.”
I smoothed out my sweater and tucked my ruffled hair behind my ears. “Of course,” I said, my gaze running past him, not wanting to admit what I really felt. That nothing in my life had ever felt so good, so right, as his lips on mine. That if I could take anything back to my life as Claudia, it would be him.
But that was foolish…and impossible. What was I thinking?
A knock on the door made me jump, made me thankful that Antoine hadn’t left yet.
A familiar voice sounded from out in the hallway. “Ruby, it’s me. Titine.”
I let her in, watching the way her red curls bounced over her shoulders, but also noticing the way the spark had disappeared from her step.
“Titine, this is Antoine, Gisèle’s brother.”
She nodded at him, her expression grim. “I gathered as much from what happened downstairs.” Then she switched her gaze over to me, the gray circles underneath her eyes even darker than they’d been this morning. “Ruby, I need to talk to you…in private.”
I walked Antoine to the door, guided him into the hallway so we could be alone for just one more second.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your father, Ruby,” he whispered. “Thank you for telling me.”
I nodded, the lingering taste of his lips on mine still making my knees weak, taking my words away.
“And I will look into Thomas Riley, like I promised. In the meantime, stay safe. You have my number.”
I leaned toward him, not able to stop myself from asking, “When will I see you?”
He brushed his soft lips against my cheek. I closed my eyes and inhaled his cool scent, never wanting him to walk away.
“Soon, Ruby. Soon.”
Titine paced back and forth in my small living room, kicking my high heels out of her way. She marched her feisty little frame up to me and shot a hand up to her hip.
“This isn’t the time to get yourself wrapped up in another one of your dramatic love affairs, Ruby! For heaven’s sake, you’re being investigated for the murder of one of your
friends, and now you’re trotting around the city with her brother. What the hell are you thinking?”
She didn’t give me a chance to answer because her little mouth kept on going as she resumed her pacing. “And now your picture is all over the papers with François Lefevre and you barge into the club and announce that he’s dead! I mean, it’s obvious that he would’ve killed himself, being the coward that he is. But you, Ruby. You were never a coward. And that’s what you’re going to become if you don’t show up for the performance tonight.”
She wiped her brow with the back of her arm, then puffed out a loud breath. “You’ve always known what you needed to do to make ends meet, to keep the show going. But ever since you fell yesterday, it’s like you don’t remember. You don’t remember how important this was to you. To both of us. After all, you can’t honestly think you’re the only one who wants to perform for Robert Maxwell? Who wants a shot at something more than nightclubs and horny men? You may have lost your memory—and your personality, for that matter—but I know you’re not stupid.”
Titine plopped down onto the white couch, a sigh of exasperation escaping her lips.
“Titine, before I can agree to go onstage tonight, there’s something I need to ask you. What was the real reason we left New York?”
Titine crossed her legs and gazed out the window, her tone impatient. “We left New York so we could come to Paris to dance at Jean-Pierre’s club, like I told you yesterday morning after you woke up from your fall.”
I needed to know more, though.
“Did it have to do with a man?”
“No, Ruby. We came here to perform. We were sick of the scene in New York. That’s it.”
“There’s more, Titine. I know there is.”
“You know, Ruby, in a way, this whole memory loss thing is a blessing. It gives you a chance to start fresh, to reinvent your life from here on out. So just go with it.”
Dancing with Paris (A Paris Time Travel Romance) Page 14
