The shell game Nancy was playing with Shay was getting harder, and after she actually worked up the nerve to talk to Nicky—part of her was still shocked she had done that—Shay didn't come around for a few days. She wanted to believe that Nicky was as good as his word, but she also had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy.

A part of her was still wondering if she had made a terrible mistake. It was only after she had returned to the room she shared with Addie and changed into her nightgown, then pulled the covers up over her, that she had realized the many ways the night might have gone wrong—and what she had done. She had told Nicky that an attorney was scrutinizing Shay and Riscetti's gang.

It would be much easier for them to eliminate that threat, than to call off Shay.

The idea that she had put her father in danger, and that she had no way to warn him about it without giving away her cover, that was terrible. But Nancy couldn't believe Nicky was like that. She didn't want to, anyway.

No man she had ever met had looked at her the way he had. For that matter, no man had ever undressed in front of her. While she had been terribly shocked by it, while her manners had told her that a man who could strip well past the point of decency in front of her after they had barely been introduced wasn't a good man—and he was a member of Riscetti's crew, after all, and definitely not a good person—she still wanted to believe she had made a good choice when she had decided to trust him.

She had been trembling all the way down the stairs, after he had told her that she had to leave before he offered her his bed. His bed.

Nancy had been in many, many dangerous situations. None had ever affected her quite the way that had.

Addie was optimistic about Shay's absence, though. Nancy had decided that if he stayed away from Addie for two weeks, far longer than he ever had before, she would ask Addie to check in with her every few days, but she would return home and hope for the best, too. Maybe after one last conversation with Nicky, just to ask him to keep an eye on Addie if he could.

That Thursday, Addie had been feeling sick, and she had a bad headache about thirty minutes before her first set of the night. Nancy urged her to return to their apartment; she would go with her, and do what she could to get her comfortable and recovering. When Nancy tracked down McConnell, though, he shook his head.

"She doesn't go on tonight, and has no replacement? She's out. That's it."

On the one hand, if Addie found other employment, at least it would be another barrier between her and Shay, at least until he found her again. Addie had worked at two other clubs while Shay had been following her, though; he found her every time. And being fired from her job wouldn't look good when she needed to find another one. When Nancy went back to Addie and hesitantly told her what McConnell had said, Addie shook her head, her eyes wide. She couldn't afford to take the night off; she couldn't lose the income, and she had no one she could send on stage in her place.

For the first time since she had taken the case, Nancy desperately wished that Bess Marvin was helping her. George Fayne was an excellent helper in several ways, but she couldn't pose as a nightclub singer. Bess would have been timid and shy about it, but much more equal to the task than her cousin.

Finally, Nancy sighed. "I'll ask if I can go on in your place," she said. "And I'll give you the pay for tonight. You need it more than I do."

It took another fifteen minutes to convince her; by then, it was almost time to go on stage. Nancy was glad it took so long to talk Addie into it. It didn't give her much time at all to anticipate and panic.

What did make Nancy nervous, though, was when she walked out on stage, up to the microphone, and scanned the room. Shay wasn't there, and that was good. As soon as he saw Nancy on stage, he might have been able to guess that Addie would be vulnerable. But she did spot Nicky at a side table. When he glanced up at her, his gaze caught hers, and she was reminded again of the glowing expression in his dark eyes as he had started taking his clothes off.

Nancy's voice wasn't nearly as strong or as sultry as Addie's, and when the music reached her cue and she opened her mouth, at first she was afraid nothing would come out. Her stage fright felt like a coiled tense weight in her chest, like it was strangling her. But she managed the first note, then the next; she sang a low, pleading love song, begging her lover to return, just the kind of thing that would have made Shay go crazy trying to find hidden meanings if Addie had performed it. The second song was more upbeat; she was a woman reunited with her man, and everything was right again. The third felt like she was going backwards. She was pining, aching, putting a desperation into her voice that she had never truly felt, at least not when it came to a relationship.

The smattering of applause she received after was about the same Addie would have received, so Nancy was satisfied that she had earned the money. She had felt Nicky's gaze on her a few times, and her heart had skipped a beat, her strength faltering for an instant.

If she could, she would have made sure that he wouldn't have that kind of effect on her. It didn't matter, though. Soon she would be out of his life, she was sure.

Every bit of reason she had told her that he wasn't a good guy. But if she could convince him to turn on Riscetti's gang, somehow, she would be doing a good thing...

Nancy shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself, and she knew it. She couldn't even imagine what her father's reaction would be, if he knew where she was right now and what she was trying to do.

But it was tempting, she had to admit. She dearly loved her father, but because she knew he would never know what she was doing, she had felt more free to do things she didn't necessarily think were the safest options. And she had done so many things she hadn't before. She had been inside a speakeasy several times. She had rented an apartment by herself. And then there was Nicky.

She went back to the dressing room as soon as her set was over to hurriedly change and return to their apartment, just in case Addie was feeling worse. She stepped out wearing a sprigged cornflower-blue dress with a plain lace collar; she looked far less glamorous than she had on stage, but felt much more comfortable. In fact, now she looked a lot more like one of the patrons.

Nicky was standing when Nancy entered the main room of the speakeasy, and Nancy's heart skipped a beat. Addie had said that Shay had kept an eye on her before he had begun stalking her. Nancy didn't sense that Nicky was that kind of guy. Maybe he had information for her, though.

"Could I ask you for a dance?"

Nancy glanced up at him, trying to put herself in the Ruth persona she was using, but around him it was hard. "Thank you," she told him, "but I really can't. I need to get home."

"One dance?"

He offered her his hand, and Nancy wavered. Then he smiled, reaching for her own hand.

The soft instrumental was just audible over the hum of conversation around them. Nancy had been to countless dances before, but the circumstances had always been wildly different. She wasn't really dressed for dancing, but he didn't seem to care, and when he wrapped his arm around her waist, closer than propriety really allowed, she felt her face warm a little, but she didn't protest. She had seen other couples dancing this way in the speakeasy, and once they were wild with drink, even closer than this.

His lips barely moved when he spoke next, and Nancy felt a little overwhelmed by his proximity. She could smell his cologne and soap and the faintest hint of leather polish.

"You off the clock?"

She nodded. "Yes. I told you, I'm about to go home."

"Yeah, but are you off the clock or do I need to talk to the barkeep?"

Nancy tilted her head. "I don't... why would you need to talk to him?"

Nicky's eyebrow went up a hair. "Boy, are you good," he murmured. "What I'm asking is whether you have any boy friends coming over... because I need to talk to you, and if I can escort you home without causing problems..."

She shook her head. "No one's supposed to be coming over."

"Good."

He didn't say anything else for the rest of the dance, but Nancy's heart was pounding. It was hard for her to think about anything other than the larger-than-life, so very solid and firm and real shape of him as they twirled together. When his lips brushed her temple, her eyes fluttered shut.

He was presuming. At a country club dance or benefit fête, she would have taken a large step back and pinned him with a blue-eyed stare. But she wasn't Nancy Drew here, and he wasn't her approved escort, and so she allowed it, marking the night in her memory as just another she had done something she would most likely never do again.

After the dance, he kept his hand joined to hers, but headed for the door. He tipped his hat to Riscetti, who directed a vulgar glance at her, then gave Nicky an approving grin.

As soon as they were outside, Nancy dropped his hand and raised her own for a taxi. She didn't want to waste any time if she could help it, especially after taking longer than she should have with their dance. He stayed by her side; he had said he would accompany her back to her apartment, and when the taxi driver asked for the destination address, for a second she hesitated. Finally she gave an address about four blocks away, and they set off.

"Have you talked to anyone else about this plan you have?"

Nancy turned to look into his face, shaking her head. "Did you talk to him? Is that why he hasn't been at the club?"

Nicky pressed his lips together. "I'm working on it," he said, without directly answering. "But he's also been out of place for the past few days. Does Addie have a key to his place, or an in?"

Nancy's brow furrowed. "I don't know why she would," she admitted.

Nicky's gaze stayed locked to her face for a moment longer. Then he shook his head, making a soft noise that almost sounded scoffing. "Well, I need to talk to her for a few minutes."

"But why would she have a way to get into his place?"

"Are you..." Nicky shook his head, then started over. "Because she was his girl."

Nancy shook her head. "No. She wasn't his 'girl.' Not really." She noticed that her words were far closer to the ones she truly would have used, that her tone was more clipped, but her temper had flared a little.

"What would you rather I call it, angel-face?"

That nickname again. When he had used it in his apartment, she had melted a little; now, though, she resisted that urge. "She doesn't want to be with him. She's afraid of him."

"Maybe she is now. And don't get me wrong; that's okay. She doesn't want to take his money anymore, that's between him and her. But she might know something that can help me."

Nancy pressed her lips together, considering. "You just need to talk to her."

He nodded. "Yep. That's all."

"Help you with what?"

He shook his head. "You have your party going on, and I have mine."

She shook her head. "No. If you don't tell me, we don't have an agreement."

He paused, too. "I'll tell you after I talk to her. All right?"

Nancy leaned forward, considering whispering the real address to the taxi driver, but she went ahead and spoke it normally. When they arrived, Nicky would know where they were. She couldn't do anything about that. She couldn't stop to call ahead; Addie wasn't expecting a call, and they had no 'phone in their apartment.

When the taxi pulled up in front of the building, Nicky glanced at the black car parked ahead of them—and he stiffened. Nancy's heart rose into her throat and she tossed the driver the bill she had already taken out of her purse, then climbed out of the cab in a swirl of skirts. Her gaze immediately rose to the window on the fourth floor at the left, the front window of their apartment. She would have expected the soft glow of a lamp, or no light at all; instead, full light blazed through the curtains.

Thinking quickly, Nancy ran for the front door of the apartment building, with Nicky hot on her heels. She wondered if his insistence on coming home with her had been a setup, but at this point, she had to deal with the problems one at a time. She slammed to a stop in front of her landlord's apartment, pounding hard on the door with her fist. "Mr. Rains, please! Please!"

He came to the door in an undershirt, suspenders, and slacks, his feet bare; she registered hairy toes before she looked up at his face. "Yeah, blondie?"

Nancy tried desperately to imagine what kind of problem would provoke such a reaction in her. "The sink! I don't know what happened, but the faucet is stuck on and the water is all over the floor, we tried everything..."

Mr. Rains growled something that sounded distinctly profane, grabbing a grubby fingermarked toolbox beside his front door. "C'mon," he growled, wiping his grease-slicked lips with a hairy forearm.

As the three of them headed upstairs, Nicky last, Nancy couldn't help wondering if she would suddenly feel fingers close about her wrists in an iron grip, but it didn't happen. Nancy had her key out by the time they reached the apartment she shared with Addie, and Mr. Rains was ready to charge in and stop the leak. She didn't need the key, though.

The door had been kicked in, and the small apartment was in shambles. Two imposing brutes Nancy only vaguely recognized were in the apartment; one mattress was askew, the pillow tilting drunkenly. Addie's bed. One of the thugs was pounding on a closet door; the other had a gun out.

"Hey! What the hell is this?"

The one holding the gun gestured with it. "Just wanted a word with the lady."

"You know these guys?" Rains snarled in Nancy's direction, taking a wrench out of his toolbox.

Nancy shook her head, wide-eyed. "No, sir. You said no men in the apartment."

"Get out."

The one at the closet door snickered. "We'll be gone when we're good and ready."

"Yeah. You and what army?" The one with the gun sneered.

Nicky stepped into the doorway, his own gun drawn. "How far you want to take this?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

The strangers sobered a little. Nancy read the glance between them. They were trying to figure out if they could bluff or strongarm their way through. "Addie," Nancy called. "You okay?"

Addie's reply was mostly unintelligible, but at least she was still conscious. Nancy couldn't fight the urge to glance up at Nicky this time. His jaw was set, his dark eyes steady and challenging. She felt a thrill go down her spine and blamed it on her heightened nerves.

Once the two thugs backed off and pounded down the stairs, Mr. Rains cursed at the busted lock. Addie looked even worse than she had when she had agreed to go home and rest. Staying there with the lock busted would be impossible.

Mr. Rains trudged off to call and make a police report, but Nancy was still shaken. So Shay had found Addie. They would need to find a new place.

Nancy hated the feeling that swept over her then. Helplessness, anger, fear. It was unfair. Addie deserved a place she could go where she wouldn't stay awake all night waiting for Shay to find her. She deserved to be left alone.

"C'mon," Nicky said with a sigh. He had put his gun away. "Pack a bag. I'll find you two a place to crash tonight."

The place ended up being his own apartment building. Nancy overheard part of the conversation he had with his landlord, which involved reminding the man that he had promised to keep his nose clean and not have any loud parties. With poor grace the landlord showed the two women to a vacant barely-furnished apartment on the second floor. The bathroom was tiny and the bed was a narrow double, but it would work.

Nicky followed them in. Nancy cast a worried look at Addie. She still looked sick and pale, like she was probably in shock. Nancy knew that Nicky wanted to talk to her, but she wasn't sure that was a good idea. She poured Addie a glass of water and took out the headache powders she had packed, urging her to lie down. Nicky didn't look happy, but he didn't protest, either. He looked at Nancy and said she knew his apartment number if she needed anything; he would be back in a few hours.

He was doubtless going back out to join up with Riscetti's gang. Nancy wondered if he was going to find Shay and talk to him, too.

Before Addie went to sleep, she told Nancy that the two men had broken in; she had scrambled for the closet, not knowing what else to do. She wasn't sure how long it had been. She had taken Nancy's advice and gone to bed when she went home, hoping the headache would pass if she did. Now the headache was worse, and Nancy found a cloth to wet in cold water and drape over her forehead, hoping that would help.

How had Shay found her? Nancy had a feeling that if Addie hadn't been as cautious as Nancy had urged her to be, thanks to her headache, maybe he had just been waiting—and when he had stayed away from the club, it had just been to lull her into a false sense of security so she would slip up. Nancy felt a cold shiver touch her spine when she wondered what would have happened if she had gone by her original plan, and if Shay hadn't played his hand too quickly.

Once Addie was fully asleep, Nancy began pacing as she considered. With every sweep of headlights down the street she glanced down, waiting for a car to stop, waiting for two or three or four burly men to come out and stare purposefully up at their window. She didn't realize what she was waiting for until she roused herself from dozing at the foot of the bed she and Addie would need to share and went to the window again. A cab was pulling up. She blinked a few times, yawning.

She carefully locked the door before she went to Nicky's apartment; he had just slipped his key into the lock, and she saw him tense before he recognized her. "You should be in bed," he said, his voice soft. "Something happen?"

Nancy shook her head, and when she followed him in, he didn't protest. Almost immediately he was letting his jacket drop down to his wrists. She saw the shine of his gun still hanging at his waist.

"She's resting. Will you tell me what's going on?"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. Then he slipped his arms out of his suspenders and let them fall. "No time," she heard him mutter, more to herself than her; when she saw the shadow of his eyelashes, the set line of his jaw, her heart skipped a beat; she felt lightheaded, almost delirious from exhaustion, but if Shay found them—

Or maybe Nicky had tipped him off. If Addie had vanished without a trace, no one would have been around to lodge any complaints against Shay.

Nancy crossed her arms. If Nicky went after her, he had a gun and she didn't—and she had brought Addie right to him.

It had been the only choice she had known to make.

"Look, I'm dead-tired," he told her. "I need to get some rest, and so do you. We can talk in the morning."

Nancy swallowed hard. "How do I know we'll still be alive in the morning?"

He turned to her, his eyebrows up. His fly was open; he put his gun on the bed and began pushing down his pants. "You really think I went to all the trouble to tell my landlord that you two would be here, and then went out and arranged a hit?"

"You wouldn't need to arrange one," she pointed out, nodding at his gun.

He made a soft incredulous sound, almost like a snicker. "I wouldn't," he agreed. "You're safe tonight, as safe as I could make you. I don't know what'll happen tomorrow, or after that. But if we keep meeting like this, maybe I will have to have a conversation with the barkeep, angel-face."

Nancy shook her head. "I don't understand—"

"You aren't for sale yet?"

Nancy shook her head in confusion, although she found herself blushing, just from the expression on his face. "For sale?"

Then Nicky crossed his arms. He was in his underwear; his strong jaw was lined with stubble, and she could see the same exhaustion on his face that she felt herself. "Who are you, really?"

"I'm... I work for someone who's interested in helping keep Addie safe."

"And yet you're naive enough to believe that you were hired for your pipes? Don't misunderstand me, you have a sweet voice—but how do you think Addie was introduced to Shay in the first place? She's for sale, or she was even if she isn't now. And you?"

Nancy actually choked. She didn't know what to say, and something in his gaze was making her feel more and more self-conscious.

He stepped closer to her. "You... you don't make sense," he said, his voice softer. "And that doesn't usually happen to me. You aren't who you say you are, you can't be, unless you're the best actress I've ever met."

Nancy took a breath. "I can't tell you."

His lips twisted. "Then let's do this the other way. You're high-class. I'd be surprised if you're a day over nineteen. You carry yourself with confidence but not with arrogance, and you're not accustomed to finding yourself in situations you can't best—but when we danced, it was all you could do to keep from pushing me away. I'm not like the kind of escorts you usually have."

He was close, too close now. Nancy looked down, then up into his eyes. "And you," she returned, her voice firm, "don't make sense either. You watch and you don't make a flashy show of yourself; but then, you don't need to. You hang back and you want very much for Benny and the rest of the guys to like you, but you came to the defense of a singer in the back of a speakeasy instead of just walking away."

"Maybe I was expecting to find you waiting for rescue."

She bristled, and when Nicky propped the heel of his hand on the door behind her, keeping it closed with his weight and partially pinning her there, Nancy swallowed hard. "Even if you had, you didn't walk away when you knew I wasn't the one in danger."

"You're used to thinking on your feet."

"And so are you." Nancy's chin was raised, defiant.

"A high-class teenager—untouched, if I don't miss my guess. Not seeing how the other half lives just for kicks. What are you doing here?"

"And what are you?" Nancy's heart was pounding. "I tell you that Shay pursuing Addie is bad for Riscetti's business and instead of getting rid of her, you're helping protect her."

"Maybe I'm just a sucker for a sob story." His gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips and back again; she was close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

Nancy's breath caught. Every bit of her was tingling. Even though she had felt exhausted ten minutes earlier, she had never felt more awake or alive than she did right now. "Either you've already given us away—or you're not one of them."

She didn't see a single flicker of fear in his steady, dark eyes. "And there's no way you work in an attorney's office, unless your family lost everything in the crash. If I kissed you right now, you'd probably faint with mortification."

Nancy took a slow, trembling breath. She wanted to respond, but she couldn't find any words. Her eyes widened as she stared into his.

"You wouldn't," she said, and she hated that soft waver in her voice.

He paused for just a second, and in the eternity of that heartbeat, she thought that her bluff had worked. Then he bent down.

He tasted like smoke and alcohol; they were harsh against her tongue. Her lips had been parted and his tongue slipped against hers and Nancy flushed hotter than she ever had before, but she couldn't find the will in her to push him away.

He was almost naked and it was very late and—

And after that one kiss, he stepped forward and she found suddenly that her fingers were in his hair, her head tipped back, his body pressed to hers. He kissed her hard again, without any apology or hesitance; he wasn't holding himself back at all, not in this. But he had been.

Slowly he pulled back, then planted another kiss against her lips, and the world felt unsteady beneath her feet. Everything felt unsteady, flickering; only he felt solid against her skin. She made a soft noise as her lashes fluttered back up.

And he made one as well. "You aren't for sale," he breathed. "No one would ever be able to afford you."

"Tell me the truth," she whispered. "You can't... you can't be one of them."

"Because you don't want me to be?"

She inclined her head slightly. "I suppose it doesn't truly matter anyway, does it."

He sighed. "Tell me who you are," he said softly, and ran the back of a finger down the line of her cheek. "And I... I'll tell you who I am."