Sasha nodded before scamperingoff.
“That was really kind of you, Jarod,” I said, attempting to decipher this puzzle of aman.
“Startling, I’m sure.” He finally took a sip ofwine.
Although diners had gone back to cutting through browned lambchops or scooping up creamy, scalloped potatoes, all of them darted curious glances our way. I was about to ask him if most people in Paris knew him when Layla bustled over to ask if she could bring us anything else. Although the smell of food had my stomach rumbling, I sensed now wasn’t the time toindulge.
“Just some bread, please,” Jarodsaid.
“Right away.” She rushed back to the bar, then returned carrying a wire basket filled with slices of springy baguette. After depositing it on our table, she went back to taking foodorders.
I heard one woman ask for all their appetizers and main courses. Either she and her husband were famished or they were going to milk Jarod’s offer. Probably thelatter.
I smiled. “Planning on distributingantacids?”
“Gluttony is a deadly sin, so their souls should suffer accordingly, don’t youthink?”
His comment, combined with its mocking delivery, temporarily impeded my brain’s ability to shape ananswer.
“Besides”—his fingers stroked up his glass—“it’ll give you a jolly band of new sinners to assist. Surely, not as entertaining as yours truly but easier considering how well-versed you are ingluttony.”
How well-versed I am in gluttony?My palm dropped to my soft stomach. “Just because I enjoy eating doesn’t mean I have a disorder,” I said, wishing I was comfortable enough in my skin that jabs at my physique didn’tsting.
Jarod’s fingers plummeted from his glass, the side of his hand hitting the scratched wooden tabletop. “What?”
I scrutinized one of the many grooves in the wood. “Forgetit.”
“Don’t tell me to forget it. Why did you just take my remark sopersonally?”
I filched a piece of bread from the basket and peeled the doughy center from the thin, hard crust. “Was theyousupposed to be a universal you?” I stuffed the bread inside my mouth.Take that, Jarod Adler. I don’t care what you think of my body and my love forfood.
But Ididcare. Too much. The same way I cared when Eve urged me to cutcarbs.
“That wasn’t—Feather, Ididn’t—”
“I said forgetit.”
The glass door of the restaurant jangled, and three men strolled in, grins as wide as their shoulders. All of them sported hair on their faces but none on their scalps. A chill swept up my spine, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the cool air that had drifted in when they’dentered.
One of them winked at Layla, who went as rigid as the slate menu she was holding. He snickered as he followed the other two mounds of muscle toward the bar where all three dropped heavily on barstools two seats down fromTristan.
Tristan glanced up from the jacket he was still cleaning. The guy who’d winked at Layla spun on his stool, a diamond stud sparkling in his right earlobe. Once he faced out, he placed his elbows on the bar behind him as though he owned the place. The door behind the bar flapped open, and Sasha, arms laden with plates, froze before looking towardJarod.
Jarod, who’d grown as still as the wingless angel in hiscourtyard.
Earring-guy’s gaze skidded over to him. When Jarod stood, the thug elbowed his friend, whose jaw twitched. I felt useless sitting so far away but was afraid to get in the way if I went to them. Besides, my mission was to guide, not to perform the acts in the sinner’sstead.
As I observed the men’s body language, I ran my thumb along the lapel of Jarod’s jacket, coaxing his scent out of the silken wool. Instead of calming me, it had my heart racingharder.
The man beside Earring-guy shifted on his stool, and then his hand slipped under his T-shirt as though he were scratching hisstomach.
When I caught the gleam of silver, I gasped Jarod’s name and shot up, the jacket springing off my shoulders and hitting the back of the chair before pooling on the floor. Thankfully, Tristan had seen the weapon too. He leaped in front of Jarod, gun brandished. Over the din of chair feet, strident shouts rang out, rivaling the thunder in myveins.
Tristan cocked the hammer, and the man jerked his hands in the air. The knife clattered to the floor. Tristan kicked it backward, and it bumped against Jarod’s shinyOxfords.
He stepped on top of the blade and said, “You, call Mehdi and put him onspeakerphone.”
While Earring-guy’s fingers tapped his phone screen, the guy beside him narrowed his eyes, first on Tristan, then onJarod.
