LITMIR.BIZ

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pipe organ in the back had been painted ivory, its gold crowning lined with teeth.

      It was pretty over-the-top, even for Levi’s taste. “Cozy,” he commented sarcastically.

      “I’ve always thought so, too.” The voice came from the bar, where a lone young man sat on a stool drinking a mug of coffee. He had dark brown skin with a delicate face and straight black hair tied at the nape of his neck. Beneath his jawline, on the left side, was a tattoo of a pair of dice.

      Levi’s voice dropped somewhere deep in his stomach, and he gaped at him, speechless. No matter how drunk he’d been, he never forgot a face. The memory of him felt like the trace of lips against his neck.

      “Neighbors, indeed,” Dice murmured. “All this time you’ve claimed Olde Town, yet only now we officially get to meet.” His eyes roamed over Levi’s body, pausing on places he’d previously claimed himself. “Don’t you look dashing with your designer suit and matching black eye.”

      Levi cleared his throat. “You never mentioned, um—”

      “My name? No, I didn’t.” Dice smiled wickedly. “I’m Narinder Basra. I own this place.”

      Levi had met Dice—Narinder—at the Sauterelle, a burlesque cabaret in the Casino District where he and Enne had gone searching for information on Lourdes Alfero.

      Narinder finished his drink and left it on the bar. “Come on. We can reacquaint ourselves in my office.”

      Just because Narinder had helped Levi once didn’t mean he wouldn’t sell him out now. There was no loyalty between them. When they’d met before, Levi hadn’t even asked his name. He had no idea how to treat their relationship.

      He followed Narinder to his office, which was plainly decorated and well-lit—far different from the rest of the nightclub. He kept a number of instruments behind his desk: a flute, a sitar, and a harp. The Basra family must’ve had a musical blood talent.

      Levi’s gaze fell on the couch, then, remembering his last encounter with Narinder, he flushed and loosened his shirt collar.

      “You look terrible,” Narinder commented.

      “Eh, just a few broken ribs is all,” Levi said, wincing as he lowered himself onto the couch. “A friend of mine suggested I pay you a visit. I’m recruiting. He seemed to think you were well connected.”

      Narinder lifted an eyebrow as he sat behind the desk. “I hear things about the Irons, us being neighbors and all. Like how Chez Phillips went missing two nights ago, and now here you are, looking for replacements. I guess dead chancellors make the news, and dead gangsters get nothing.”

      Levi stiffened. “I didn’t kill Chez.” He would never have gone so far.

      “I wouldn’t blame you, if you did.” Narinder leaned back in his chair and aimlessly plucked a few strings on the harp. “That’s how it works in the gangs, isn’t it?”

      “Not mine,” he said.

      Narinder rolled his eyes. “You can’t have a heart of gold and do the work you do. The greedy would only carve it out of you.”

      Levi thought a heart of gold might have been stretching it. “I’ll take my chances. As I said, I was told that you have a lot of connections, and I came here to see if you knew anyone who might be interested in working for me.”

      “Joining a gang has just been made a capital offense, and either way, yours hasn’t exactly been doing too well lately,” Narinder said in an accusatory tone. “Why should I recommend anyone to you?”

      He doesn’t like gangsters, Levi realized. Considering their last encounter, Levi liked to think he was the exception.

      “Because my luck has changed,” Levi said smoothly, “and because this ‘street war’ is about more than crime. It’s about the rich watching from their ivory towers in the South Side while the North Side becomes a battleground. This is our city, not theirs.”

      “You sound like a politician,” Narinder said.

      “But what I said is true,” Levi told him.

      Narinder gave him a look of approval and stood up. He sat beside Levi on the couch, and Levi noticed he still smelled like honey. He stared at the dice tattoo on Narinder’s jawline, pushing away intrusive thoughts of the look on Enne’s face when he’d lied to her about how he felt. Jac’s request had been reasonable, but that didn’t make it ache less.

      “It’s funny,” Narinder said with a smirk. Levi could see why the musician was well-liked; he had an easy smile. “At the Sauterelle, you were so preoccupied with being recognized yourself, you had no idea everyone else there recognized me.”

      “I haven’t spent enough time in Olde Town,” Levi explained with a pinch of embarrassment. “But I’ll be around more now.”

      “A dangerous idea,” Narinder murmured coyly.

      A heat swept through Levi, starting in his stomach and spreading across his neck. Levi did his fair share of flirting, but this wasn’t how he typically did business. He preferred to have a level head, and nothing about the way Narinder smiled kept his head clear.

      He thought of Enne, and her look of betrayal found its way back into his mind. He didn’t think starting something between him and Narinder was wise. And if Enne ever found out...

      Levi shifted, putting a little more distance between them. “So, do you know anyone you’d recommend? If not, I’ll be leaving. I only came on a referral.”

      “You don’t trust me,” Narinder observed.

      “It’s nothing personal.” Even though it was. They clearly had unresolved history.

      Narinder leaned in. “It feels personal. I’m not interested in turning you in, you know, and it’s not because we’ve...met before. Olde Town is my home, but Olde Town is all that stands between the rest of the North Side and the South. Like you said, last time there was a war, my home was the battleground, while Veil and Havoc watched from elsewhere.”

      Levi searched for a tell in his expression, but found none. The history was true: Veil and Havoc had sacrificed Olde Town for the good of everyone else. Even now, barely anyone lived here. “You’re the only other person with any power in this neighborhood,” Narinder said. “So I have a personal stake in helping you rise, if you’d see my home protected.”

      The word rise lingered in Levi’s mind. He was a sucker for anyone who saw potential in him. He couldn’t help it—his gaze darted to Narinder’s lips.

      “And...” Narinder added, noticing Levi’s stare and grinning. “Maybe it’s also because we met.”

      “I’m grateful, either way,” Levi told him truthfully.

      “I have someone for you. You could interview her now, if you’d like.” Narinder’s gaze flickered from Levi’s eyes to his lips and back again. “Well, it doesn’t have to be just now.”

      Levi swallowed. He’d come here with a purpose, but maybe he could also use a distraction.

      You have three thousand volts on your head, he scolded himself. But, for better or for worse, he trusted Narinder. Twice now, he’d agreed to help Levi for little in return. Levi had spent so much time clearing his debts that he forgot not every good deed came with a price.

      He could get used to that again.

      Levi leaned closer to him, and it only took the brush of Narinder’s mouth against his for his desire to win out.

      Last time, they’d both been far from sober, but the feeling of Narinder’s hands on his waist and the honey smell of his skin still brought flashbacks of a secluded booth in the Sauterelle. Of ragtime music drowning out the sounds of their breaths. Of Enne wearing a fur coat several sizes too large and looking every bit a Sinner.

      He

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