Chapter Nineteen #3
Navigating around the crowded room mostly by feel—barely any light filtered through the curtains—Vivian made her way to the window.
On the way she nearly knocked over a stool, and she grabbed it to keep it from toppling over.
Pausing, she listened, ears and eyes straining in the dark, to make sure no one had been alerted by the sound.
Then she carefully tucked the stool under one arm and brought it with her to the window.
Mrs. Kaminski’s curtains were heavy old things, but it was easy enough to tuck back a single corner, one that hopefully wouldn’t be noticed from the outside.
As dark as it was inside, Vivian hoped she would be invisible to anyone who glanced her way from the street.
Setting the stool down, she inched closer to the tiny gap until she could just see the corner of the stairs where she had left the dress. She settled in to wait.
At first Vivian’s mind couldn’t settle, filled with worry over what she was doing, what she was risking.
She was being careful, as careful as she could be, but it could still go wrong.
And if it did, she wasn’t going to be the only one who suffered.
Florence was the one who had received the letter.
She was the one who would be most in danger.
But Vivian couldn’t convince herself to go upstairs.
She could let the letter writer—or whoever worked for them—take the dress.
If she did that, she would probably never hear from them again.
Unless, of course, she and Florence came in the path of some other money and ended up in the letter writer’s sights again.
Or if not them, someone else. The thought made Vivian’s fury gather into a bitter weight in her chest, even as sweat prickled her skin in the hot, still room.
Whoever was writing those letters was coming after desperate people, families with so little that a necklace counted as wealth.
Then there was Pearlie. Whatever shady business had brought him his money, he hadn’t deserved to be killed for it.
And Florence … with her, the letter writer had expanded their awful business into forcing other people to take on the danger of theft and crime for them.
The anger inside Vivian twisted, becoming something more complicated as her thoughts turned toward Florence. She closed her eyes for a moment as if that could hold those thoughts back, pressing her forehead against the windowpane that was the only cool thing in the room.
If she could keep Florence safe, they could go back to their quiet life together, the two of them against the world, just like it had always been. Nothing needed to change.
The sound of quick, deliberate footsteps broke into her thoughts. Vivian started, her head bumping the glass as she realized she had dozed off. She winced, shrinking back behind the curtain and hoping that no one had seen her there. When the footsteps outside paused, she risked a glance.
There weren’t many streetlights in this part of the city, and the shadows between them looked even darker when compared to those pools of golden light.
But there was enough of a glow reflected off the steps for her to see a dark figure, hat pulled far forward to shadow his face, retrieve the bag from where she had left it.
Vivian’s heart was pounding like it would come out of her chest as she watched the figure check the bag, glance around—she shrank behind the curtain again but didn’t take her eyes off him—and then walk briskly away.
Vivian, after only a moment of hesitation, stumbled her way back to the door and into the hall. She peered out the front door just in time to see the figure disappear around the corner.
This time she didn’t hesitate. Closing the door as softly behind her as possible, she hurried after.
She had nearly reached the end of the block when she realized the strange thumping noise she could hear was the sound of heavy feet behind her.
Vivian turned in time to see a second figure, moving toward her at a pace that was almost a run.
She had enough time to see that he was tall and heavyset, but he dodged around the pools of yellow lamplight so that his face never caught the light.
Vivian froze, and then it seemed like everything happened at once.
The figure raised a hand, and the streetlight glinted off something metallic pointed right at her.
There was a clicking noise, so faint she could barely hear it.
Before she had fully realized what was happening, before she could do anything to react, a third figure, this one slim and quick, had barreled into the man, knocking him off balance just as the bursting sound of a gun firing tore through the night air.
The shot went wide, striking the side of the building Vivian was next to and spraying chips of stone into the air.
She didn’t even flinch as one caught her shoulder, slicing through her sleeve.
She just stared at the hole the bullet had made, her mind refusing to understand what had almost happened.
She was shaken out of her stupor by the sound of cursing.
The heavier, larger figure wasn’t putting up nearly as much of a fight as he could have.
Instead, he swore loudly, pushing away and holding up one hand, as though wanting to make sure his face wouldn’t be seen.
The slim figure tried to catch him, but he shook her off, shoving her away before dashing across the street and disappearing into the warren of alleys.
Vivian would have gone after him, but she was too busy staring as Honor stumbled into the lamplight.
“Are you all right?” Vivian asked, grabbing Honor’s arm to make sure she stayed upright. “Where did you come from?” She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of Honor’s face, trying to see if she was hurt.
“Am I all right?” Honor demanded, catching Vivian’s upper arms in a painful grip. Her hair was wild from the scuffle, and there was a mark on one cheekbone that was probably going to turn into a bruise. “Am I all right? What the hell, Vivian?”
Vivian tried to shrink back, but those furious hands didn’t let her go.
“You lied to me.”
“I didn’t want to put you in any more danger—”
Honor didn’t wait for her to finish. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, shaking Vivian by the arms. “Don’t you have any idea how these things work?
They’re sniffing out dozens of people’s secrets.
That takes manpower. They got evidence removed from the coroner’s office.
That takes connections. Whatever this operation is, it’s not just one person, and they’re not small time.
They’ve killed two people.” Another shake, and just when Vivian was about to push herself away, Honor hauled her close, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.
“Goddamn it, Vivian, did you want them to get you next?”
“Better me alone than me and anyone else,” Vivian managed to say. It was the only thing she got out before Honor grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her.
Vivian’s mind stuttered to a halt. If she had been thinking, she might have come up with a word like overwhelmed or shocked, though neither of them came anywhere close to capturing how stunned she was.
But she wasn’t thinking at all. The only thing she was aware of was the feel of Honor’s mouth on hers, the press of Honor’s fingers against her jaw, the smell of hot skin and night air around them.
And then, before she even fully realized what had happened, Honor let her go, her hands dropping abruptly as she turned away. Vivian stared at her back, which was ramrod straight and tense, as her mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened.
“Don’t say that.” Honor’s voice was cool and controlled as ever, as if her sudden burst of emotion had never happened.
She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing her blond curls back into place, and gave each of her cuffs a little tug.
“There are plenty of people who would be very sad to see anything happen to you, Vivian.”
Vivian’s fingers were on her lips, she realized, brushing back and forth as though trying to find a trace of Honor’s kiss, though she didn’t even remember raising them. She dropped them deliberately and turned away.
Something on the ground caught her eye, and she flinched away as she realized what it was. In the scuffle, the man had dropped his gun.
Honor saw where she was looking and stooped to pick it up. It was a short, snub-nosed little revolver, and Vivian saw Honor’s jaw tighten as she stared at it.
“I don’t know much about guns,” Vivian said slowly. “But isn’t that a little … little?”
“It’s a Fitz Special,” Honor said, and something that might have been a shiver chased over her shoulders. She tucked the stubby revolver into her pocket. “Come on, you’re not staying here tonight.”
She didn’t give Vivian a chance to protest. Grabbing her arm in a tight grip, she hurried them both in the opposite direction from where the two figures had disappeared.
Vivian would have objected, but one look at Honor’s stony face was enough to make her close her mouth.
There were times to argue, but this was definitely not one of them.
She didn’t say anything as Honor whistled up a cab and bundled her inside.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked after Honor gave directions to the driver.
She received a narrow-eyed glance in return. “Somewhere I hope you won’t end up dead by the end of the night.”
It wasn’t a comforting answer. Vivian shivered and stared out the window, not asking any more.
The cab took them to a quiet little street farther uptown.
It wasn’t more than a couple miles away, but it might as well have been a different world.
The buildings here stood straight, their brick fronts smooth and clean, with window boxes of flowers on the first floors and the sidewalks swept mostly clear of trash.