Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(14)

“You’d better leave. We’re not seeing anyone today,” someone growled. Enne made a sound somewhere between clearing her throat and a squeak.

“It’s me,” Levi said.

“Pup?”

He hated that nickname. People assumed that Canes smelled auras like bloodhounds, even though they read them with all their senses. The nickname was, in Levi’s opinion, the embodiment of everything he needed to change about his reputation. Once upon a time, the Irons had been the richest gang in the city. Even if he was young, Levi deserved to be taken seriously.

“Nice to see you again, Jonas,” Levi lied.

Jonas Maccabees, the Scarhands’ second-in-command, sneered, “You should stick to Olde Town where you belong.”

“That’s a shame, because I came here to see you. It’s hard to resist that smile of yours.”

Jonas turned on a light, and Levi squinted as his eyes adjusted. The room had concrete walls and a mess of exposed, leaking pipes. It smelled faintly of cigarettes.

“Reymond isn’t seeing anyone today,” Jonas grunted. A scar ran from his left eye down his cheek, disappearing beneath his shoulder-length black hair. More scars crisscrossed his palms, and his skin had a gray tint to it. Like a corpse. Beside Levi, Enne stiffened.

“But he’ll see me,” Levi challenged.

Jonas glared because he knew Levi was right, then mumbled something under his breath and turned to a door at the other end of the room. The undeniable stench of rotting bodies trailed after him.

“Is Reymond their boss?” Enne whispered.

“He’s the Scar Lord.”

“You failed to mention that.”

“Does it matter? I’m the Iron Lord, aren’t I?” Apparently his lordly title didn’t warrant the same concern.

“Maybe this was a bad—”

“Do you want to find Alfero or not?”

She quieted.

Jonas opened the door and ushered them into an office. Reymond perched on the desk. He was short and slender to the point of looking starved, with black hair and brown, hooded eyes. He wore a shiny gold vest and a crimson jacket, a belt of reptile scales and huge rings on every finger, which made eight rings in total—both his middle fingers were stumps.

“He brought a missy,” Jonas said.

“Yes,” Reymond answered, scanning Enne up and down with interest. Levi didn’t usually introduce missies to his friends. “I can see that.”

Levi pulled up a seat at the desk and nodded for Enne to do so, as well. As he sat, he got a whiff of Reymond’s cheap cologne and nearly gagged.

“We won’t take long,” Reymond said, dismissing Jonas, who closed the door as he left. Then he held out his hand to Enne. “I’m Reymond Kitamura,” he said.

She shook it and gave a winning smile to rival Levi’s own. All of her apprehension from before was concealed. “It’s a pleasure. My name is Enne Salta.”

“You don’t dress like any Salta I’ve ever met,” he remarked, which made Enne lift her chin indignantly. Levi snorted, picturing Enne in a burlesque costume. Well...it wasn’t so terrible a picture, if he was being honest with himself. “Or any of Levi’s boys or missies, for that matter,” Reymond added, smirking at Levi.

He shrugged in response. Levi had a long romantic history of scattered affairs—a few girls and many boys—that had become the subject of teasing from his friends. They claimed he had a hopeless habit of kissing and telling.

“I’m not his missy,” Enne said hurriedly.

“Good. Glad to hear you got taste,” Reymond joked.

Aside from the dons of the casino Families, Reymond Kitamura was arguably the most powerful person in the North Side, a reputation he enjoyed flaunting in Levi’s face at every opportunity. When Levi had first arrived in New Reynes—twelve years old, scrappy and eager—Reymond had taken him in. The two were like brothers, though, as Jac had pointed out on more than one occasion, they fought more often than they got along.

Two Octobers ago, when Vianca Augustine had dumped the investment scheme on him, Levi had turned to Reymond as a business partner. Since then, Levi had tried to keep their working relationship under wraps, but Chez had discovered it several months ago. His third considered it a betrayal. Officially, the Irons and the Scarhands were far from friends, and the gangs took their rivalries seriously. So Levi visited Reymond only when it was absolutely necessary these days, even if he sometimes missed their squabbles.

Reymond pulled a cigar out of his pocket. He pointed it at Levi, almost like he was offering it to him, except he wasn’t. Levi snapped his fingers, igniting a small flame at his fingertips and lit the end. Reymond cupped it and took a deep inhale. The smoke billowed out his nostrils, and Enne crinkled her nose.

“We’re still late on the Torren payment,” Reymond reminded him, as if Levi needed reminding. “Two weeks or so.”

“Let’s talk about this another time,” Levi muttered. Enne already knew he ran a gang; he didn’t want her knowing about the scam, too. He couldn’t have her running off on him...at least not until she paid him tonight. And if Reymond did have any leads on Alfero, then it was in Levi’s best interests to stick with Enne. He couldn’t lose the potential for a ten-thousand-volt reward for finding her mother, even if the chances were slim.