The Socialite - J'nell Ciesielski Page 0,52

All this pretending. Spending time together as we climb our way up the social ladder of snakes.”

“I find myself pretending less and less with you.”

The music stopped, but he didn’t move to release her. Nor did she.

Voices buzzed, colliding in a cacophony that grated his ears. Elbows and shoulders pushed into them as the crowd backed away from the front doors.

A single frantic voice screeched above the others. “Look at you all here. Celebrating and carrying on as if nothing is happening outside these doors! Murderers! Thieves!”

Warnings pounded in Barrett’s head. Shoving Kat behind him, he motioned for Sam and the band to get down. He’d heard those words before and they never brought anything good.

The crowd surged back as a small Frenchman bounced around like a wobbly top. His mended black suit hung on his thin body, his black whiskers were too long for his thin face, and his wild eyes protruded like golf balls.

“No one asked you here, yet you storm in here as if it’s yours to take. It’s not! It’s ours!” He sneered, balancing his bony hands on his hips and jutting his head out like a rooster. “You think you’re so much better. That you deserve life and we don’t.”

Don’t do it, friend. Shut your mouth. But the man had signed his end simply by walking in here. No way the Germans were letting him walk free. Unless there was a way to get him out before the Germans got their hands on him.

He turned to Kat. “Stay here. At the slightest incident you go straight to Sam. Understand?”

Her face blanched with panic. “What are you going to do?”

“Something stupid.”

Shoving down his own clawing fear, Barrett pushed to the front of the crowd and faced the man. “What do you say you and I go and talk about this in the back room? Let these people get back to their party, eh?”

Hatred pricked the Frenchman’s eyes like needles. “You’re one of them.”

“I’m just a simple bar owner, but I’ve got a dram of whisky and a willing ear if you want to tell me about what’s wrong.”

“You’re not shutting me up in a back room. What I’ve got to say is for the scum in here.”

“I’m more than willing to listen to your troubles, but I’m sure the ladies aren’t. Come on, let’s go up to my office—”

“My mother was a lady. My sister too. That didn’t stop the pigs from barging into our home and forcing themselves on them. When my sister fought back, they dragged her into the street and beat her, leaving her to die as an example for those who would refuse.” Reaching into his shirt, he yanked out a small gold Star of David on a chain. “Juif! We are nothing to you. Dirt beneath your feet, animals to slaughter. You rape and kill the innocent. Who are the true animals?”

Behind Barrett, feminine gasps mingled with German curses. Like sharks around a drowning man, the Gestapo edged closer. Helplessness swallowed Barrett. The poor man, and Barrett couldn’t lift a finger to help him now. The curses grew louder as the men pushed forward. The little man’s eyes darted like a caged tiger’s. With a twist of his wrist, a revolver glinted in the lantern light.

The crowd fell back. A woman screamed as he waved the gun in the air with a shaking hand. “Get back, all of you!”

Barrett stepped forward, hand out and palms up. “Put the gun away, mate. You don’t want to hurt anyone. You’re not a killer.”

The man’s hand shook. “They’ve made me one. I don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“They deserve to burn, every last one of them.”

Fervent agreement burned at the back of Barrett’s throat. How he wished he could tell the Jewish man that he wasn’t alone, but doing so would forfeit his life and every one of those he’d sworn to protect at all costs. “Put the gun down, please. Come and talk with me.”

Bang!

A dark hole blasted out the front of the little man’s chest. Stunned, his mouth fell open on a gasp. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, he fell to his knees and slumped to the floor, facedown. Blood circled around him.

Barrett spun around to find Eric behind him with a shining black Luger raised.

“The time for talking is over.”

Chapter 11

“Do you want a magazine?”

Not turning from the window, Ellie shook her head. A long, low whistle rent the air as the train next to them spun

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