Page 99 of Dukes All Night Long

O liver was not going home.

There was only one place he wanted to be. One person he wanted to speak to.

He retraced his steps from earlier in the night, navigating the dingy alleyways of the Limehouse District with the authority of a patron. He’d memorized the slum like the back of his hand. But when it was time to make a right toward his favorite opium establishment, he kept going straight.

Until he was pounding at yet another door of yet another woman who was unhappy to see him.

Mrs. Devine was still dressed for company. But witches rarely kept the same hours as normal folk.

She glowered at Oliver, closing the door until he could only make out one of her suspicious violet eyes. “I’m with a customer,” she said sternly. “Come back tomorrow.”

Oliver’s arm shot out, stopping her from closing the door in his face. “I paid you to do a job.”

“And I did it,” she replied, matching his clipped tone. “I did exactly what you said. I told the lady that she needed to move on. I told her to marry again.”

Oliver loomed over the tiny woman. “I paid you to tell her to move on from her husband. Her husband . Not me.”

Mrs. Devine huffed. “You were never that specific. I told her to move on. I did as you asked.” She shrugged. “I did as he asked as well.”

“Who?”

“Her husband. He came to me tonight. Apparently, you both want the same thing for the lady.”

Oliver scowled, shaking his head. He was too tired and annoyed and disappointed to deal with this witch’s lies.

Did she actually expect him to believe that she spoke with the dead?

Whom did she think she was dealing with?

A simpleton? A man who hadn’t just experienced his own brush with the afterlife?

Because Oliver had been at death’s door, and there had been no pearly gates or white light or ancestors to greet him.

He was certain of what lay on the other side: nothing.

Which was why he was so hell-bent on making this life count.

With Jo.

He sighed, reaching into his jacket pocket. He took out five pounds and held them in front of the witch.

She eyed the coins warily but still raised her palm to accept them. “What’s this for?”

“For next time,” Oliver replied, before adding wryly, “when Lady Jo comes back, I’d like you to be more specific.”

The witch shoved the coins into the pocket of her skirt. “What makes you think she’ll be back?” she asked.

Oliver touched the brim of his hat and backed away. “Because I’m certain the woman needs me as much as I need her.” He glanced up at the smoke-filled sky that the stars and heavens had no chance of peeking through. “She just needs his damned permission more.”

The End