The Paris Game (26 page)

“You really ought to share, Perron,” Jeremy said, grasping Sera by the arm. “I’ll take her home for you.”

Sera wrenched her arm free. “I told you before; I don’t want to see you.” She backed away.

“You heard the lady.” Marc shifted to put Sophie partly behind him as Jeremy advanced. Sera reached Marc’s side and he gave her a quick glance. She was pale but calm, her gaze fixed on Jeremy.

“I told you it wasn’t over.” Jeremy reached for Sera again, but Marc caught his wrist. They stared each other down, neither willing to give way.

“The lady said no.”

“Who said she was a lady?”

Marc felt the shift of Jeremy’s stance and tightened his grip. He yanked Jeremy’s arm just as the man threw a vicious punch. It upset his balance just enough to avoid a hit to the face. Instead Jeremy’s fist grazed Marc’s chin. It was enough to jar him, and he let go.

Marc took a step back, only vaguely hearing Sophie’s panicked voice. He raised his hands instinctively to block, so Jeremy’s next punch was unsuccessful. Not so for the next few. Marc's breath was sucked from him as Jeremy landed punches to his ribs. He threw a punch of his own, but Jeremy stepped out of reach. As Marc recovered his breath, he made his injuries seem worse than they were, hoping Jeremy would underestimate him. Jeremy drew a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open with a laugh.

“You’re a dead man,” he said. “Sera, if you come with me now I won’t have to kill him.”

“Don’t.” Marc kept his gaze on Jeremy even as he issued the terse command. He didn’t hear her reply. Jeremy lunged forward.

Marc dodged to the side, but not far enough to avoid the blade that slashed across his arm, cutting through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. He felt the sting, but ignored it. Jeremy came at him again, but Marc saw his chance. Using Jeremy’s momentum against him, he managed to grab the man’s arm and twist. With a sickening pop, the shoulder dislocated and the knife clattered to the pavement.

As Jeremy stumbled back, Marc let fly two swift punches that were feebly blocked, and a third went through Jeremy’s defenses to graze his cheek. His fury drove him forward, masking the pain in his arm. He heard the other man’s groan of frustration and easily blocked the punch Jeremy threw with his off hand.

A sharp jab broke Jeremy’s nose and Marc followed him as he stumbled back, kicking his knee out from under him. The adrenaline rushed through him as Jeremy fell back, landing hard on his knees. Marc didn’t bother to wait until he had time to regain his footing—he stood over Jeremy, grasping his short hair and pulling his head back.

“Don’t even think about it, Perron,” Jeremy spat, spraying blood over Marc’s suit. “You’ll regret it.”

“Will I? I’m not the one on the ground. You’re the one that came at me with a knife.” Marc struck him once, and then again. The blood streamed down Jeremy’s face, but Marc brought his knee up, connecting solidly with Jeremy’s skull. He watched with satisfaction as Jeremy’s eyes rolled back in their sockets. He let go and the man collapsed onto the pavement.

Marc stepped back, his breath coming in short pants. Jeremy had been strong, but not strong enough.

“Are you all right?” Sera was at his side, pulling him away from the scene. He looked at her, then over at Sophie, who looked about to faint.

“Fine,” he said, even as the burning pain in his arm began to make itself known. There was a rent in the sleeve of his jacket, but the dark made it difficult to see how much blood he’d lost.

“We need to call the police,” he heard Sophie say.

“And what would we say?” Sera asked. “Best to just leave him.” She put her arm around Sophie. “Come on, we’ll go find a taxi.”

“But... we should tell them.” Sophie sounded unsure, being the only voice of reason.

“No, it’s not worth it,” Sera told her. “And you’re shivering. We should get you somewhere warm.”

Marc put a hand over his wound and followed a pace behind as they walked out to the boulevard. A taxi pulled up almost as soon as they reached the stand and he tried to make himself presentable as Sera opened the door. The three of them crowded into the back; Sera put him between herself and Sophie as if she were afraid he was worse off than he had let on. He could have kissed her for that, but for Sophie. He gave the driver his address and then leaned back against the leather seat. He could feel the blood dampening his sleeve and he pressed down harder on the wound, gritting his teeth. Sophie trembled next to him and he would have put his arm around her if he could.

“Everything’s okay now,” he told her in a low voice, trying to be as soothing as he could without alarming the driver.

Sera paid the fare when the taxi drew up in front of his building. She took his keys from his pocket once the taxi had departed, leading Sophie inside. They climbed the few flights in silence. His ribs ached and by the time they reached his apartment, he had gritted his teeth against the pain. Once inside, Sera led Sophie away into his bedroom while he went straight to the kitchen, stripping off his jacket and leaving it on the floor in the hall. He heard Sophie begin to sob and he sighed. All his plans for the evening had been wasted. And Jeremy Gordon. He cursed. He should have handled those two thieves himself. This was going to cost him.

He peeled off his ruined shirt with a grunt of pain and got his first glance at the wound. The breeze from the open window touched his bare back and he shivered.

It wasn’t too deep—his jacket had protected him to some degree—but it ran almost the length of his forearm. He knew it probably needed stitches at its deepest point, but there would be no way to explain it to the attending physician. He turned on the tap and let the warm water run down his arm, letting out a low hiss as it washed the blood away. Sophie’s crying had subsided by the time he turned off the water. He pulled a clean dish towel from the drawer and patted his arm dry before he pressed it gingerly to the wound.

“Will you be okay?” Sera stood in the doorway, holding his jacket between two fingers. She dropped it on top of his shirt.

“I’d be better if I hadn’t had to fight some crazy bastard,” he growled. Sophie would be in no shape for seduction now. All his careful planning had gone awry. “What the hell is going on, Sera?”

“I put Sophie to bed.” Sera replied as if she hadn’t heard him. “It was hard to calm her down, but I gave her a pill to help her sleep.”

“Good,” he said tersely. The last thing he needed was for Sophie to see his wounds and faint. He lifted the towel to inspect the slash, replacing it as blood oozed slowly from the deepest part of the cut. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” Sera began. He gave a derisive laugh.

“Obviously he doesn’t listen to you, Seraphina. What is he to you?”

Sera didn’t reply.

“He seemed to think you were a whore,” Marc continued, “but I can’t imagine why he would think that. Care to enlighten me?”

“That’s none of your business,” Sera said finally.

Marc came around the counter and grabbed her arm, glaring down at her.

“You’re not frightened of a man for no reason. I saw your reaction to him—we could have all ended up dead tonight.” He was angrier now that he had been during the fight. “As it is, I’m sure Sophie’s in shock. That’s the last thing a quiet young woman needs.”

Sera shoved him away and he winced as she caught his bruised ribs. “Your concern is touching, Marc. You’re just furious that this kept you from winning our wager. You don’t really care about what’s happened except for how it affects your little seduction.”

“Did you set this up once you saw me come in with Sophie?” he asked abruptly, knowing his accusation was false, but hopefully provocative enough to force her to the truth. “You already had Colette tell her tales, but that wasn’t enough.”

“How dare you!” Sera turned away from him and fumbled in her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling a cab. How dare you think that I’d do anything like that?” She found her phone and started dialing, but Marc reached around her and forced it off.

“If you didn’t, then tell me what is really going on,” he challenged.

“No.”

“No, you won’t tell me, or no, you don’t know?”

She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know him?”

“I don’t.”

She gave a strangled laugh. “You can’t tell me you don’t know him at all.”

“I’ve seen him around,” Marc retorted. “But you seem to know him much better than I do. And you still haven’t told me why he thinks you’re a whore. Why is that, Seraphina?”

“How would I know?”

“Most men don’t think that by default.”

“Don’t they?”

“Did you fuck him?” he asked bluntly. He saw her shudder.

“I’m not that desperate.” She started dialing again and this time he didn’t stop her. He knew she was lying, but it wouldn’t be to save his feelings. Maybe her own. Did she think Jeremy would leave her alone now?

“Are you sure it’s safe?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she put the phone to her ear.

“Does he know where you live? He could be waiting for you when you get home. Aren’t you concerned?” Sera put her hand over the receiver and glared at him. He wanted to shake her.

“He’s probably still lying in the street where you left him,” she replied. She gave Marc’s address to the dispatcher, then ended the call. “Or he’s crawling away to wherever he came from.”

“You’re taking a risk.”

“I’ll stay with Colette, if you’re so concerned.”

Marc removed the towel and inspected his wound. It had stopped bleeding. He tossed the towel on top of his bloody clothes. “I’m sure Colette will scare him away if he comes calling.”

“It’s better than being alone, or here,” Sera retorted. “And if I hear from Sophie that you took advantage of her, I’ll hurt you worse than he did.”

“What do you take me for? A psychopath?” He wasn’t anything like Jeremy Gordon. “Give my regards to Colette, and tell her to mind her own business.”

Sera turned on her heel and left without another word. He heard the door slam as he bent to pick up his jacket from the floor. He took out his cigarette case and leaned against the counter. She had to have been sleeping with Jeremy Gordon, he thought as he lit a cigarette. Nothing else made any sense, but she wouldn’t admit to it.

He walked into the living room, stopping to glance in at Sophie. She was curled up in a ball on his bed, the covers tucked tightly under her chin. Her dress lay at the foot of the bed. That Sera could think he would take advantage of Sophie in such a state! He tried to keep his anger under control, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the table. He glanced out the window, but the street was quiet. He paced back to the kitchen and lit another cigarette. The whole situation was a mess. And he hadn’t even found out if Jeremy had completed the hit. What was he going to do now?

Chapter 14

“Marc slept on the sofa?” Sera could hardly believe it. Sophie shifted on the worn green bench.

“I don’t know why he did,” she replied. “He looked exhausted when I left. I would have given up the bed for him if he’d only asked.”

“Was he feeling better?” He’d surprised her. She’d thought he would have milked his injuries for all they were worth and convinced Sophie that they could share the bed.

Sophie glanced down at her hands. “I didn’t wake him. I just left.”

At that moment Sera was glad Sophie had called her and asked to meet for a coffee. They’d found a little café near the Tuileries and taken their drinks and pastries with them into the gardens. She’d chosen a bench far from the street and isolated. She tried to look sympathetic, but she was incredibly curious.

“You left? But I thought you liked him.”

“I do.”

When Sera let a doubtful expression flit across her face, Sophie flushed.

“I do. It’s just—I thought he was going to kill that man.” She gave a compulsive shudder and Sera saw goose bumps rise on her arms, even though it was comfortably warm and they were sitting in a sunny spot.

“But he didn’t,” Sera reasoned. She could only hope that last night put Sophie off Marc for good. She wanted to see his face when she collected on their wager.

“He could have,” Sophie objected. “He was a totally different person. I realized I didn’t know him at all.”

“You’ve only seen the sides he wanted to show you.”

Sophie picked up her coffee and took a long drink. “I can’t even close my eyes without seeing last night. All that blood.” She picked at the hem of her shirt. “And when I put my clothes on this morning there was blood on my dress. I couldn’t get it out.”

Sera nibbled at her pastry, now dry and tasteless in her mouth. “Have you never seen men fight before?”

“Should I have?”

“You’ve never seen men at a bar, fighting over a woman?” Sera realized Sophie was more innocent than she’d imagined.

“I never went to those sorts of bars.”

“When I first met Marc, he often would get into fights over women,” Sera told her, keeping a straight face even as she exaggerated a couple of incidents into a rash of violence. “He had a reputation, but the girls went after him even more because of it.” She shrugged. Colette would be impressed with her acting skills. “It scares me too, Sophie.”