Nine

Vivian swallowed, eyes darting around. He was between her and the door, and while the alley wasn't a dead end, it was narrow and crowded. If she tried to run, odds were he'd be on her before she went more than a few steps. And with how loud it was inside, no one would hear her if she called for help. Besides, for all she knew, his friends were waiting on the other side of that door. She was as good as cornered, and they both knew it.

Vivian swallowed down a wave of fear. She'd been in tighter jams before. She had to keep her head. And she couldn't let him know how afraid she was. She was just fixing a soothing smile on her face when he reached into his jacket. Vivian flinched away, then stared in confusion as he held out a dollar bill.

"I've got some questions for you, doll. So stop twitching and don't think about trying to run. I'm not budging, okay?"

It took Vivian a moment to find her voice. "What kind of questions?"

"This is that Huxley woman's place, right? And you work for her."

There was a curl to his lip as he looked her over, dismissive and superior. But he spoke a little too fast, the edges of his words sharp and his eyes darting around. He wasn't quite as sure of himself as he wanted to seem.

"Looks that way," Vivian said slowly. "But I don't have anything to say—"

"Look, I don't know who you are, but you're a dumb bird if you're going to turn down cold cash," he said impatiently. "So—"

"You don't know me?" Vivian demanded, unable to stop herself. She wanted to sag against the wall with relief. If he wasn't there for her, had he just stumbled into the Nightingale by accident? But then what kind of questions could he have? And how did he know who Honor was? "Then why are we out here?"

"I already said, I've got some questions for you," he said, snapping his fingers at her. "Keep up, I haven't got all night. Are you going to answer them or not?"

"That depends." Vivian took another step back as he moved forward, wanting some distance between them. But she didn't take her eyes off him. He was still between her and the door. He still had half a foot of height on her, and he was jumpy as a drunk flea. She wasn't out of the woods yet. "Corny, right? That's what your pals called you."

"You're not my pal."

"I could be," Vivian said, giving him a smile. "What could a girl like me tell a fella like you that he doesn't already know? We might as well go back inside and see about getting you another drink, on the house. You're wasting your time with me."

He laughed, crossing his arms. "You think I'm dumb enough to just believe whatever a pretty girl tells me?"

"Trying to sweet-talk me, Corny?" Vivian asked, giving him a smile. She was shaking all over, but maybe he wouldn't see that in the dim light.

"I don't need to sweet-talk you," he said softly, stepping forward again. Her back was against the alley wall now, and he was only a few inches away from her. Vivian's heart was beating like her chest was a jail cell and it was trying to break free. But she had to hope that if he'd wanted to hurt her, he would have done it by now. "I've got questions, and you're going to answer them."

"And if I don't feel like talking to you?" she asked, her hands sliding over the wall behind her back, looking for a loose brick, the edge of a crate, anything she could use if she needed to defend herself.

One of his hands shot out, gripping her chin. "Don't play games with me, little girl. My stepfather was murdered today, and I'm all out of patience. So you'll tell me what I want to know or—"

"Or what?"

The cool voice, the coiled menace of it, caught them both by surprise. Light scattered across the alley, and Vivian's eyes, which had been locked on Rokesby's, darted over his shoulder.

Rokesby dropped her chin and spun around, stepping quickly away from her when he saw Honor in the doorway. And she hadn't come alone. Benny, one of the hulking bruisers who kept the clientele in line—and whatever other tasks Honor needed him to take care of—stood at her shoulder. Behind them, still half in the doorway, hovered Bea. Her eyes were wide with worry when they landed on Vivian, but her gaze shifted to Corny Rokesby, her mouth set in a fierce, protective line, and the worry turned into a snapping glare.

Rokesby held up his hands. "We were just having a friendly chat."

"Not that friendly," Vivian said sharply, giving him a shove that sent him stumbling away from her. "I told you, you're wasting your time here."

But he wasn't paying attention to her anymore. Instead, he was staring at Honor. "You're Miss Huxley?"

"Ms. Huxley," Benny growled.

The correction made Honor smile; Vivian might have joined her if her heart hadn't still been jumping with nerves. "I am."

"I'm—" Corny Rokesby began.

But Honor cut him off, her smile fading. "I know who you are. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Rokesby? Or will you be heading on your way now that you've made…" She looked him up and down. "Some kind of point, I suppose?"

"I didn't come here to cause trouble," he said, raising his hands. "I wanted to talk to you."

Vivian stared at him, then at Honor, not bothering to hide her confusion. She glanced at Bea, who looked equally surprised, her sharp brows drawn into a frown as she silently watched the drama unfold.

Why in God's name would Rokesby be looking for Honor?

"Oh?" One of Honor's brows arched upward, but she didn't sound surprised. "Well, you sure as hell went about it the wrong way. I might have been available to talk…" Her lip curled. "If you hadn't started out your night by threatening my staff."

Rokesby blinked at her, then scowled, a petulant mix of confusion and irritation. "But—"

"Unfortunately, you did. So I've got nothing to say. Benny, escort our guest out," Honor said softly. "Gently, please—I hear Mr. Rokesby's already had a rough day."

"But—" Rokesby swallowed down the rest of his protest when Benny stepped forward, lightly cracking the knuckles on one hand. "Fine," he bit off. "But you know we're not done here, right? I know all sorts of interesting things now."

"You know nothing." Looking unconcerned by his threat—and what exactly had it meant?—Honor stepped aside, gesturing him toward the door. "Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Rokesby. And my condolences for your loss."

As soon as the men were gone, she nodded at Bea. "Thank you for coming to get me, Beatrice," she said. Vivian let out a shaky sigh. She had wondered if Honor was watching her. But Bea must have been just coming off her set and seen Rokesby follow her outside. She'd have run to get Honor in case he was the sort of man who liked to cause trouble for girls on their own.

Vivian didn't know if she was relieved or angry that Honor hadn't been keeping an eye on her after their earlier conversation. But she was damned lucky Bea had found her in time.

"Who was he?" Bea demanded.

But Honor shook her head. "Give me a moment to talk with Vivian, please. I'm sure she'll fill you in later."

Bea glanced between them nervously. Honor might have built the Nightingale into a refuge for plenty of people who wouldn't be so welcome in other places, but she was still Bea's boss. And no matter how curious or worried she was, Bea was still a poor Black girl working an illegal job in a city full of trouble. She had learned plenty of times that it was safest to keep her head down.

"Sure thing," she said at last, though there was still a question in her voice. "See you in there, Viv?"

"Bea—" Vivian swallowed as her friend turned back. "Thanks," she said, her voice shaking. "I'm lucky I got you looking out for me."

"You sure are," Bea said with a little lift of her chin. There would be questions later, Vivian knew. But for now, she settled for giving them both one more wary look before disappearing inside, letting the door swing closed behind her.

Honor watched her go, then turned back to Vivian. "You're all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, just talked a big game. I think. I'm not sure what all he was getting at." Vivian bit her lip, hesitating. "You gonna fill me in? How did you know who he was? How did he know who you were?"

"Like you said before." Honor shrugged, looking away. "Seems like I know everyone."

"Honor," Vivian said sharply. She wasn't in the mood for games.

"Honestly, pet…" Honor gave a short laugh, closing her eyes. "You'll probably know soon enough."

"What does that mean?" Vivian demanded, suddenly worried for an entirely different reason. Honor looked tired—no, she looked sad. Her normal cool expression was drawn, tight lines curving around her mouth like she was in pain. "What's going on?"

"Like I said." Honor opened her eyes. "You'll know soon enough." She hesitated, then reached out to brush her fingers down one side of Vivian's hair. "Got a bit mussed there." Her smile was bittersweet as she dropped her hand. "Time to get back to work."

Vivian caught Honor's hand when the other woman would have turned away. The feel of it, of smooth skin and strong calluses, was like a wave of memory—when was the last time they had touched like that?—but she didn't let it pull her eyes from Honor's. "If there's something going on, you can tell me. You know that, right?"

"Because you care about the Nightingale?" Honor asked softly.

"Because I care about you," Vivian snapped, dropping her hand. "God knows why. You don't make it easy."

That made Honor laugh, though there was no humor in the sound. "You're not the first to say so, pet," she said. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine. I'm swell. You keep your mind on taking care of yourself, okay?" As she turned away, Vivian heard her add quietly, "We both know you're going to need it."

The sting of those words went through Vivian like an electric shock. "You know, sometimes I wish I hated you," she bit off as she pushed roughly past, beating Honor through the doorway. They'd had the door open long enough that the hallway was cool from the night air, though Vivian could feel the heat spilling out of the dance hall along with the music. "It would make my life a lot easier."

"You might yet," Honor whispered behind her. "And I might deserve it."

Vivian didn't know what she meant. She didn't want to know. Fixing her smile like armor, she strode down the hall toward the bar. She didn't look back.

It only took a quick look around, once she was back in the dance hall, to see that Corny Rokesby and his friends were gone. The band was playing a jaunty Charleston, and the dance floor was a whirl of bodies, a mix of strangers and regulars. There was Miss Rose, the best dancer at the Nightingale, dancing with a woman Vivian had never seen before; she could barely keep up, but Miss Rose made her look good anyway. Mr. Lawrence almost never got on the floor for a Charleston, he was too old-fashioned for that, but someone had persuaded him out there, and he was holding his own, though his forehead gleamed with sweat. Mags Crawford, only seventeen years old though she would never admit it, had diamonds flashing in her hair as she twirled in the arms of her newest fella.

Vivian watched as if from a distance. The Nightingale had been her haven ever since she first stepped foot in it, trembling in Bea's shadow and hoping no one noticed that she had no idea what she was doing there. The thought made her glance at the bandstand, but Bea was on her break, probably smoking and laughing in the female employees' dressing room with her heels off and her feet kicked up. Most nights, Vivian would be in there with her.

But even the Nightingale couldn't protect her right now.

Vivian took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She'd been caught up in police raids and trailed by a mob boss's bruisers. She'd seen dead bodies and dirty cops and the barrel of a gun pointed right at her. She'd unearthed more than one secret and kept her fair share too.

She wasn't going down without a fight.

When she turned back to the bar, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Leo was sitting there, watching her, and he wasn't alone. Danny leaned on the bar next to him.

"One of you gonna tell me what's up now?" Danny asked, glancing from her to Leo, who he had known since they were kids. They had met on opposite sides of a street brawl, packs of Jewish and Chinese boys fighting over who had the right to a few grimy city blocks. They had fought each other growing up as much as they had fought anyone else, a rivalry that grew into respect and eventual friendship, even after Leo lit out for Chicago.

Vivian had tensed when she saw them together, shoulders creeping up defensively as she waited to find out what Leo had told his friend. At Danny's question, though, she relaxed, if only just barely. Her news was still safe.

Leo hesitated, looking at Vivian. "Anything going on you want to share, Viv?"

"I—" Vivian bit her lip. "Will you tell Flo something for me, Danny? When you get home tonight?"

"I can," he said slowly. "Though maybe it's something you should come by and tell her yourself? You know she's going to blow her top if she finds out you're keeping something important from her."

That made Vivian laugh, though the sound came out tense and short. It was an understatement if there ever was one. Florence had a lifetime's worth of good reasons to dislike it when Vivian kept secrets. "I'm not keeping anything—I mean, I'm not going to. I'll come by and see her soon. But will you tell her it'll be a little bit?" Vivian swallowed down her nerves and smiled, hoping the expression was less shaky than it felt. "I've got a few things to take care of, and I don't want to bring any trouble her way right now."

"Viv—"

"You won't say anything that'll make her worry, right, Danny-boy?" she insisted. "I know you don't want her to. She's got enough to deal with right now."

That made Danny sigh. He and Florence were both thrilled to pieces to have a baby on the way. But her pregnancy hadn't been easy so far. Vivian knew the last thing he'd want was Florence worrying over her little sister—her little sister who was always in some kind of trouble—when she should be taking care of herself.

Danny nodded, though he didn't look happy about it. "If you say so, Viv." He looked like he might say something else, and Vivian braced herself for more questions. But a group of men and women came laughing up to the bar, debating whether they wanted gin or champagne, and he had to get back to work. "What's your poison, folks? The Nightingale's got it all…"

Leo was watching Vivian when she let out a sigh of relief. "How much are you actually working tonight?" he asked, one hand spinning his hat in restless circles on top of the bar.

"I'm supposed to be…" Vivian let out a breathy, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "I'm supposed to be working a regular shift. But I've managed all of one drink order. My head's up in the clouds tonight." Her head was back at the station, back in that office with Buchanan, but she didn't want to say that out loud.

Leo was still studying her. "Can you just go ahead and make this a break now?" he asked. "You look like you could use a dance."

Vivian wanted to throw herself into the music, to get lost in the sway of a dance, air heated by too many bodies against her bare arms. She knew if she pressed her cheek against the curve of Leo's shoulder, her nose would fill with the scent of shirt starch, the tang of the whiskey he'd been drinking, the spicy warmth of his cologne. She could pretend, just for a moment, that nothing else in the world mattered.

But tonight, she didn't need pretend. She needed a plan. "Can you get me in to talk to your pal at Bellevue?" she asked abruptly.

It took him a moment to catch up. "The medical examiner? What do you think he can—"

"I want to know if there was any kind of… what do you call it? When they look at dead bodies?"

"Autopsy?" He kept his voice low, not wanting anyone to overhear.

"That one, yeah."

Leo grimaced. "From what you said, it seemed pretty straightforward, how he died. I'm not sure they could tell you anything new."

"Please?" Vivian begged in a whisper. "I've gotta start somewhere. That's a reasonable place, right?"

He sighed. "Sure, yeah. Of course. I'll see what I can do. But…"

"But what?" Vivian asked at last, when it seemed like he wasn't going to continue.

He didn't answer for several counts of the music. "I'm all out of favors at Bellevue," he said at last. "They don't owe me a damn thing right now, and the medical examiner's not going to risk getting on my uncle's bad side for nothing."

"What does that mean?" Vivian asked. "He'll say no?"

"Not necessarily," Leo admitted. "But you'll be on the hook for a favor yourself."

"Oh." Vivian let out a slow breath. What could someone from the coroner's office want from her anyway? "Well, that's how it goes, right? Can't get something for nothing. You'll do it?"

"I will." Leo gave her a gentle smile. "But we can't do anything about it just now, right? So we might as well enjoy a dance."

Vivian wanted to say yes more than anything. But the slow, melancholy drift of the music caught in her chest and her throat. It made her feel vulnerable, and scared, and she couldn't handle that tonight.

Vivian shook her head. "I don't think I can," she said, trying to smile as she took a step back. "I'm sorry. I should get back to work."

"Viv—" Leo caught her hand as she turned away. "You know it's going to be all right, don't you? We'll figure it out. Just tell me what you need."

She didn't look back at him. "Just that meeting, okay? And once I know something more…"

He squeezed her hand. "I'll do whatever I can. I promise."

"I know," she said quietly, turning back to him at last. "And you've got no idea how glad I am about that. Because I think I'm going to need a lot of help."

He tipped up her chin, then, and pressed his lips gently against hers. And even though they were in the middle of the dance hall, even though Vivian liked to keep her private life private and didn't want her regular customers to know she had something like a fella of her own, she kissed him back, fingers tight on the lapels of his coat. It's going to be all right, he had said. She wanted so badly to believe him.

Leo pulled back before she let herself get carried away, though, his eyes never leaving hers as he brushed the curtain of her hair back behind her ear. "You know I'm crazy about you, Viv, don't you?" he whispered, and for a moment Vivian felt like they were the only two people in the world. "There's not a chance in hell I'm letting anyone take you anywhere." Still smiling, he gave her hip a little nudge with his. "Now get back to work, sweetheart, or Danny's going to kick me out for distracting you."