Free After Midnight by Sarah Grimm, Sarah Grimm Page B

flexed. “He didn’t mean…” Taking a deep breath, she continued. “He was drunk.”
    “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Thomas rasped, anger seething in his voice. His hands curled against his sides. “Tell me the bastard’s name.”
    Her eyes slid closed. A tightness settled in Noah’s chest as, even from his distance, he noticed the fine tremor that wracked her body. Because he wanted to go to her, to touch her, soothe her, he pushed his hands into his pockets.
    “Tommy,” she said quietly. “Tommy did this to me.”
    One by one, Thomas’s muscles tensed. Pain flashed in his eyes.
    “I’m sorry,” Isabeau whispered.
    “You’re sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?” A look of confusion crossed Thomas’s face before his expression tightened. “What did you do, refuse him a drink?”
    Slowly, Isabeau’s eyes opened and locked with her father’s.
    “Sonofabitch!” he exclaimed and took a step back, away from her.
    “Dad, don’t.”
    Thomas continued to curse under his breath, his voice pitched so that Noah only caught every other word. Hands tightly fisted, the man’s anger was palpable. It pulsed off of him in waves.
    “Dad—”
    “You need to leave now, Izzy. Take your friend to lunch.”
    “Dad—”
    “Noah. Get her out of here.”
    Noah crossed to her, settling his hand at the small of her back. “Come on, Isabeau. Your father needs some time to absorb.”
    Temper flashed in her eyes before she stepped out of his reach. “Don’t coddle me,” she warned. “Either of you.”
    Without another word, she turned and walked out the door.
    Isabeau was three storefronts down before Noah caught up with her. He walked with her in silence for another block and a half before he spoke. “I didn’t tell him, you know.”
    “I know.” Her voice was tight with emotion.
    “You could have postponed your lunch plans, given yourself a day or two to heal, allowed the bruises to fade.”
    “No, he needed to hear it from me.”
    “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come along.”
    Easing out an audible sigh, Isabeau stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She tipped her head up and met his gaze from beneath dark lashes. “I knew all along that he would notice the mark on my arm. I…The sunbathing I did this morning was as much about preparing myself for his disappointment as about disguising the severity of the bruise. Unfortunately I wasn’t any more successful at preparing myself than in keeping the truth from him.”
    She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them. “Your presence doesn’t change the facts—that his son got angry when I cut him off last night and decided to tell me what he thought of me in a display that left me bruised and sore.”
    “Is that what he did, told you what he thought of you?”
    “What he said isn’t important.”
    “No?”
    “No.”
    She was lying.
    He fisted his hands against his thighs. “What exactly did Tommy say to you?”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “I think it does,” he said, his voice quiet and level. “I think it matters a great deal. Otherwise you wouldn’t have just gone white as a sheet.”
    “I don’t think that’s possible with my coloring,” she replied dryly.
    He narrowed his eyes.
    “I’m fine.”
    “Another lie,” he muttered. He shot his hand out and took hold of her elbow when her color worsened. “Hey.”
    She stared up at him from eyes that had gone as pale as her face. Her voice wasn’t quite steady as she asked, “What do you mean another lie?”
    “There’s no point in denying it, Isabeau. All I have to do is look at you to know that you’re not fine. You’re upset.”
    She stepped back slightly, pulling free from his grasp. A gentle reminder—no touching. “Of course I’m upset. I caused my father pain.”
    “No, that would be Tommy. He hurt your father, just as he hurt you. Tell me what he said to you.”
    Her eyes flicked to his face, then away. “I already told you, it—”
    “Doesn’t