even though she was fairly certain she wasn’t the one in danger.
“What makes you say that?” His voice was calm, but she could sense the coiled violence lurking beneath the surface.
With no reason to prevaricate, Vi rapidly relayed everything she could remember, right down to her telling Sr. Conti the watch was for her, and his subsequent invitation to visit his apartments. If she had hoped disclosing her quick-witted actions to protect Marcie and Gertie would help diffuse his anger, she was wrong.
Instead, he wordlessly grabbed her arm and began hauling her toward Mr. Stuart and Mr. Miller.
The two men stopped their conversation, their eyes widening as he approached.
“Miss Heart will be leaving with me,” Sergeant Danger told the two men, addressing both and neither in particular. “Now.”
Vi stiffened. “Wait a minute. Don’t I get a say?”
Mr. Stuart drew himself up and glared at the sergeant. “No one goes anywhere unless—”
“That wasn’t a request,” Sergeant Danger snapped.
“Excuse me!” Vi angrily tried to pry his fingers from her arm. “But I’m not leaving my travel buddy stranded.”
“Fine, she comes, too.”
“Like hell she will,” she said through her teeth. “Marcie has played no part in any of this, knows nothing about it, and never will as long as I have breath in my body. Do you hear me?” On this she would not budge. No matter the sergeant’s plans for her, she would keep Marcie clear of them, even if it cost Vi her life. Marcie’s safety came first.
Sergeant Danger pinned her with a hard look. Refusing to be bullied, she glared right back.
“Fine.” The sergeant turned back to the two men. “Don’t let Miss May out of your sight until you hear back from me.”
Wyatt’s expression was stony. “Virginia, if you don’t want to go, say so, and I’ll have the sergeant tossed out.”
She bit her lip, touched by his concern but not sure her refusal would be wise at this point, since the situation was far more complicated than Wyatt knew.
“I think I should do as the sergeant asks,” she said, praying that she wasn’t making a mistake. What if Mr. Stuart took exception to her leaving with the sergeant tonight and kicked her out of the production? It had to look darned irregular, perhaps even scandalous.
Sergeant Danger apparently had no such worries as he all but dragged her toward the women’s dressing room. “You have two minutes to change or you go as you are.”
“Go where?” she said testily. After all, she wasn’t the one at fault here. She hadn’t asked Sr. Conti to show up tonight. “I think I have a right to know.”
“Two minutes, Virginia.”
The use of her first name silenced further questions. It reassured her that he hadn’t forgotten last night and the fragile connection that had formed between them.
She quickly changed, switching from chorus girl to USO officer in record time. As soon as she had her hat pinned on, she bolted toward the door, her last costume still swinging on its hanger behind her.
Sergeant Danger was leaning against the wall, his brow furrowed in thought.
“Ready,” she said to catch his attention. He looked up, and to her surprise the anger had all but vanished from his eyes. What remained were shadows and sorrow.
Her steps slowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Ever hear the word ‘FUBAR’?”
“Sure. Fouled up beyond all recognition, right?”
“Yeah.” His laugh was bitter. “Though I would have used a slightly different word than ‘fouled.’” He straightened off the wall. “Anyway, that’s about where things stand right now, and I’ve got to find a way to fix it.”
She hesitated. “It wasn’t my intention to cause trouble.”
“I know. But intentional or not, you’ve landed smack dab in the middle of something extremely dangerous.” He gestured toward the exit at the back of the theater. “So let’s go. There’s someone who needs to hear your story.”
“Who?”
He opened the door to the alley and glanced both ways. “Someone who can hopefully help get you out of this mess.”
Stopping her at the curb, he flagged down a military vehicle, held a hushed discussion with the driver, and then helped her in. Ten white-knuckled minutes later—the pitch-black streets were even more terrifying when trapped inside a hurtling car—they were let off in front of a wrought iron gate. Up the driveway beyond was what looked like a large mansion.
A uniformed guard stopped them.
“We’re here to see Major Ricca,” Sergeant Danger said quietly. “And no, he’s not expecting us.”
The guard radioed to someone inside with their names and their business. After a brief