dark eyes. “She’s going to bear my and Eric’s children. The perfect Aryan family.”
Chapter 18
“She’s where?”
“At a party. Jean saw them leave an hour ago with instructions to the driver for the Museum of Architecture. Said they didn’t look happy, though you’d think they would after a week locked up.” Sam flicked a speck of dust from his bony shoulder as the warm-up notes of the band drifted up through the floor planks. “What do you suppose the party is for?”
Barrett yanked the tie from his neck and threw it on the stack of papers cluttering his desk. “Nazis. Does it really matter the reason?”
With pointed eyebrows, Sam picked up the discarded tie. “You really should leave this on.”
“And you really should mind your own business.”
Undisturbed, Sam dangled the tie like a fish on a line. “Our customers expect to see you during the band’s second set.”
“They can expect all they want. I’ve no mind to trot down there and parade around for their amusement.”
Grabbing his bottle of Ballantine’s, he ripped the cap off and pressed the cool bottle to his lips. No time for a glass tonight. He needed the relief now. Between Kat and the Germans downstairs, he couldn’t decide who the winning contributor to his urgency was. Not that he would consider anything about this night as amusing. Far from it. Over the past three days, the women had trickled out, leaving only soldiers to finish their pints at smoke-clouded tables. Sam and the band played as lively as ever, but the room once filled with clapping and after-hours laughing had grown thick with quiet. The customers now sat straight in their chairs, one hand around their glasses and the other dropped to their knees. With feet braced apart, their eyes moved to and fro with calculated interest.
Barrett took another swig that burned down his throat. No, he was anything but amused tonight. “Don’t you have music to play?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
“What do you think I’m doing now?”
“Trying to stifle your anger that your girl is at a party hosted by a Nazi whose thumb she happens to be under.”
Barrett stared at him for a long second, wishing he could deny it. “If you weren’t so right most of the time, I’d fire you.”
“And if you were any other kind of patron, I’d have resigned.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
“As am I.” Grinning, Sam folded the tie back onto the desk and left.
Lifting the bottle to his mouth, Barrett caught his reflection in the glass window. Same brown hair, same shoulders, same grip on the bottle’s neck.
He was his father.
Disgusted, he screwed the lid back on and dropped the bottle into the wastebasket. No. He wasn’t his father. He wouldn’t crawl into the deep end of the bottle in search of relief from his problems. He’d meet them head-on.
But first he’d apologize to Sam for his bitterness moments ago. Solidarity had been a comfort throughout Barrett’s life. He got along well enough with others, but he never allowed himself to be a part of them. It was simpler, cleaner, without the entanglements. Sam was the first person he’d been able to sit down and share a drink and a laugh with and not get annoyed. Best not to annoy his only mate now.
Then he needed to see Kat. See with his own eyes that she was all right after her weeklong sentence, and pray to God Eric wasn’t there. He’d kill the man, if that was what he was, with his bare hands if he saw him too soon.
The beating rhythm of a drum stuttered to a halt. Odd. Hugo never lost count or dropped a stick. Feet thundered up the stairs until they crashed through his door. A white-faced Corbin followed by six of the kitchen staff tumbled in.
Corbin threw the door closed and shoved the boys into the washroom. “Nazis are raiding the bar! They’ve come for the fighters. Anyone harboring them will be pronounced guilty on the spot. They’re here for your blood, Patron.”
Barrett yanked open the secret door behind the washroom mirror and shoved the washers and Corbin into the passage. “Get the lantern on the wall. Keep quiet, and make your way all the way down. Don’t do anything until I get there.”
He started to close the door, but Corbin shoved it open. His eyes filled with panic. “Where are you going?”
“To get more people.”
“Too late. The Germans are overrunning the place. We barely made it up here without