her. But there was only so much a twenty-one-year-old woman could do when it came to persuading older men to move along. It was a power imbalance incredibly difficult to overcome without help.
“Stefano Conti.” The two men shook hands as Vi committed his first name to memory.
If . . . when she saw Sergeant Danger again, she needed to tell him about Sr. Conti’s visit.
“What do you make of him?” Frances asked softly, having come up beside Vi. Her features were pinched with suspicion and dislike. In this case, Vi actually agreed with her.
“Nothing good. He was trying to get Gertie to meet him later at his place.”
“Not gonna happen,” Frances vowed.
“He was also after Marcie, but I was able to shut that down,” Vi replied, her gaze on Sr. Conti as he chatted with Mr. Stuart. “Tell you what: you keep an eye on Gert, and I’ll do the same for Marcie. Something about him seems fishy.”
“He’s a horny dog. That’s what he is. I’ve dealt with men like that before.”
Vi glanced at Frances in surprise. “You too?”
The brunette’s green eyes were stormy as she watched the man. “Men with money always think women without are for sale. Particularly the pretty ones.”
“Sometimes they are,” Vi said, thinking of her own past. “And if a girl is hungry, would you blame her for wanting to eat?”
Surprise flickered in Frances’s expression, and then it hardened. “If she gives in, she makes it harder for everyone else. Because success with one girl means those jackasses won’t take no from another.”
“I doubt a single instance of success would lead a man to that conclusion.”
“If you let a dog eat off the table once, he’ll forever think it’s allowed,” Frances said coldly.
“Men are not dogs,” Vi said.
“No, you’re right. Men are capable of viciousness inconceivable to a dog.” Frances turned and strode away.
Vi chewed on her lip, the revival of her painful past dimming her joy from the evening’s performance. She had done what she’d had to. It was easy to say one would never stoop so low when one wasn’t starving. But was Frances right? Had she somehow endangered other young women by her acquiescence? She would like to think she hadn’t. It had seemed her only choice at the time, but had it been, truly?
Life wasn’t always black and white. She had learned that in more ways than one. Sal was a good man who worked for horrible masters. Some of the nicest people she had ever met were other burlesque dancers, who took off their clothes for a living. Some of the worst were ministers who seemed more concerned with condemning people than loving them. Young men were considered heroes if they killed and slaughtered the enemy. A dancer could wear the skimpiest costume imaginable, but as long as she was of “fine moral character,” no one blinked an eye, whereas Gypsy Rose Lee was called a whore even when fully clothed.
What was one supposed to do in such a crazy world?
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Vi jumped and spun around, relief spiraling through her. “Sergeant Danger, you came!”
He frowned in confusion. “Should I not have?”
“It’s not that. It’s just . . . wait.” Grabbing his arm so he couldn’t disappear on her, she turned to find Sr. Conti. He wasn’t there. Panic squeezed her lungs as she searched the crowd but didn’t see him. “Where did he go?”
“Who?” Sergeant Danger asked.
“Sr. Conti.” She went up on tiptoe to see if that helped. “He was just here.”
The muscles of his arm flexed and turned to steel under her fingers. Startled, she glanced up. The sergeant’s gaze was sweeping the area, his jaw set.
“What did he look like?” he asked casually, but Vi wasn’t fooled.
“White hair, dark eyebrows and mustache, polished manners, not very tall.”
“And you say he was here? Backstage?”
“He waltzed right past the MP, saying he wanted to meet us because he loved the play.”
Sergeant Danger’s eyes dropped to meet hers. “If you see him again, you walk the other way.”
“Gladly.” She hesitated. “But it might be too late.”
“Why?”
She took a deep breath and steeled herself for his reaction. “Because I think he’ll be back, because he was here looking for Luciana.”
Chapter 29
If Vi had ever doubted whether Sergeant Danger had it in him to be a cold-blooded killer, his expression in that moment rid her of the notion. She actually stepped back,