“Is that so?” he asked, stepping even closer to goad her. He probably deserved to be told off. He’d definitely pulled the acrobatics idea out of his ass. “Well, I’m ready. Let me have it.”
Then the music stopped, and they heard the audience clapping. Enne’s attention turned back to the show, and Levi found himself a bit disappointed. “Let’s go find the others.”
They emerged on a second-floor balcony, the show itself below them. Jac and Reymond perched at a high-top near the railing, drinks already in their hands. They hollered at Enne as she approached, real rowdy, though Levi couldn’t figure out why until he saw the stage, where a woman posed in nothing but a slinky garter set and silver tassels dangling from her nipples.
Enne went red as a cherry, and her lips formed a small O.
“I see why your mother likes it here,” Levi said.
Levi could tell from Enne’s expression that she was attempting to remain nonchalant about it all. But he still recalled their delightful experience yesterday passing Sweetie Street. She hadn’t given up her sensitivities that quickly.
“Yes, well,” Enne breathed, examining the mostly nude woman. “I imagine Lourdes probably does.”
Levi drummed his fingers against the countertop, then searched the floor below for a card table to make his own. He nudged Jac and pointed to the far corner. “That one,” he declared.
“Why that one?” Jac asked.
“Just a feeling.” Truthfully, the card dealer at the table—who wasn’t an Iron, wasn’t anyone Levi recognized—was devastatingly attractive. They were here to find Lourdes, and this was an opportunity for Levi to win some of the voltage he needed to pay back Sedric, but there was no harm in a little fun.
“Are we splitting up, then?” Enne asked, scanning the crowd below. Lourdes and her head of blond hair were nowhere to be found.
“Of course not,” Reymond said. “Theyare, but you can’t be wandering around a place like this all alone.” He put his arm around Enne’s shoulders, but—just as she’d done to Levi earlier—she groaned and batted him off, muttering about trapezes and bruises and handsprings.
Levi shot Reymond a questioning glance. Levi didn’t have the right to feel possessive—in fact, he would much prefer that he didn’t feel this way, would much prefer the idea of the handsome card dealer whose problems were so distant from his own—but he couldn’t imagine what interest Reymond might possibly take in Enne. While Levi leaned either way, Enne was most assuredly not Reymond’s type.
“You need a local with you, missy,” Reymond told her. “Levi will be asking around at the card tables, Jac will be keeping an eye on the floor and you and I can chat with the staff, who I’m sure see more here than anyone.”
Levi couldn’t argue with his logic, though it irked him how easily Reymond had taken the lead...even if Reymondwasthe one who’d suggested they survey the Sauterellein the first place.Whereas Levi had always needed to work for his authority as a leader, being a lord came naturally to Reymond.
“Fine,” Enne said.
It also irritated him how quickly she’d agreed.
“Well, fine, then,” Levi muttered, then made for the stairwell.
Following the striptease act was a duo juggling knives. They weren’t ordinary daggers—they were hooked in a way that faintly resembled scythes. Levi studied the two girls tossing them, searching for the trick. They spun between throws, danced with blades between each of their fingers, played with the steel as though it were ribbon. It must’ve been a hoax.
But then he noticed the white hair of one of the performers. She was a Dove, a member of the most feared gang in the city. The assassins. It was no trick, then. He was surprised the Sauterelle let her perform, lest she frighten the audience. Or was the hair part of the show, too?
Levi slid into an empty seat at his selected table and put down a few volts. He was directly beside the handsome card dealer, who was very much the sort Levi liked in men. Delicate lips, rosy skin, all soft and boyish.
“I haven’t played here in ages,” Levi said casually.
“You don’t look familiar,” the dealer replied.
Levi gave him a moment, wondering if he’d recognize him after all. Half the other dealers here were Irons, and besides, Levi was famous to anyone who enjoyed Tropps. But when the handsome boy remained silent, Levi regretfully continued, his ego wounded. “I only come here on occasion. I like the arts scene. Pretty different from the university.”
The dealer nodded, showing he’d heard, though he had to pause to finish out the hand. Levi folded the first round, as he always did. It gave the impression he wasn’t an aggressive player. Gave the others a false sense of ease.
“South Side, eh? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“It doesn’t suit me.” Levi shrugged. “But I’m good with business.”
The hand ended, and to his luck, Levi was dealt an excellent new one—not that he needed one to win. But he preferred not to resort to cheating, unless he thought he might leave the den with his pockets lighter than when he’d entered.
Fifteen minutes later, Levi had won the pot. He slid the small pile of chips toward himself with satisfaction.
“You play a lot?” the dealer asked.
