Chapter 12: Crown of Smoke: Chapter 12

I guide Lucy out of the venue, my hand firm against her lower back. The night air is cool, but it does nothing to the rage still burning through my veins. The image of that bastard’s hands on her keeps replaying in my mind.

‘You can’t just go around hurting people like that,’ Lucy says, stepping away from my touch. ‘And what was that possessive display about? I’m not yours.’

My jaw clenches. ‘The hell you’re not. You were mine the moment I saved you in that alley.’

‘That’s not how this works.’ She stops, crossing her arms, her blue eyes blazing. ‘Our working together doesn’t mean I’ve become your property. I make my own choices.’

‘Like the choice to let that piece of shit put his hands all over you?’

‘I was handling it.’

Fucking hell! I close the distance between us, backing her against the car. ‘Were you? Because from where I stood, you looked scared.’ My voice drops lower. ‘And I won’t let anyone make you feel that way.’

Her breath catches, giving me a moment to feel I’ve won this battle. But then her eyes narrow and her chin lifts. ‘I don’t need your protection.’

‘Too bad, because you’ve got it.’ I brace my hands on either side of her. ‘I’m not letting you go, Lucy. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.’

She glares at me. ‘You’re impossible.’

‘And you’re mine.’ My fingers trace her jaw. ‘Whether you want to admit it or not.’

I hear the words coming from my mouth and wonder, what the fuck? First, my actions and words aren’t all that different from every other dickhead around here. But second, I’ve got other shit to deal with. Ten years of careful planning, of staying in the shadows, of focusing on nothing but bringing down the bastards who murdered my family, and I’m risking it all for a woman I barely know.

The memory of Lucy’s soft skin under my hands in that bathroom, the way she trembled when I touched her, how perfectly she fit against me… it’s driving me insane. But it’s more than just desire. The thought of anyone hurting her makes my blood boil. It’s as intense and acute as the murderous rage I feel for the Keans.

The smart move would be to cut her loose, keep her at arm’s length while I focus on the mission. But the thought of pushing her away… well, I can’t seem to do it. Left to her own devices, she’s going to get herself killed. If I abandon her and she ends up dead, that would be on me.

Maybe I can have both, revenge and Lucy. The voice in my head, the one that sounds like my brother Ash, reminds me that love makes you vulnerable. And vulnerability gets people killed.

She pushes me back, and I decide to change tactics. I open the car door for her. ‘What did you find out tonight?”

She slides into the passenger seat. ‘The Keans’ rise to power, it wasn’t just luck or strategy. Or at least not business strategy. Someone betrayed the Ifrinns. They were⁠—”

“I know who the Ifrinns were.” Every muscle in my body tenses.

‘I overheard two men talking about the fire,’ she continues, pulling out her phone where she no doubt put her notes. I hope to hell no one saw her. ‘Someone helped the Keans get past the Ifrinn family’s security systems. Led them right in.’

The night my parents died flashes through my mind. The smoke, the screams, my brother pulling me through the chaos. A traitor. All this time, we thought it was just the Keans, but someone inside our family had helped them.

‘Did you catch any names?’ I keep my voice steady despite the rage building inside me.

‘No, but he said he thought the person works for the Keans.”

I scan my brain for anyone who worked for my father who survived the fire and is working for the Keans. But there is none. None that my brothers and I have found, anyway. Most of my father’s men are dead, in prison, or they left town.

It’s possible this news is just a rumor, but deep down, I think it’s true. It has to be true. No one could have gotten into the house without help. The question is, who is this person and do they really still work for Kean?

She’s good. Damn good. In one night, she’s uncovered what my brother and I have spent years trying to piece together.

“You did good,’ I murmur, glancing at her as I drive.

She smiles wide, her pride in her work shining through. “I told you I could help.”

“But Lucy, this kind of information could get you killed.’

Her smile falters. “Why do you always have to ruin things with doom and gloom?”

“Because it’s the reality of our world⁠—”

“Our world?” She turns her body toward me, her eyes like lasers on me. It makes me feel like she can see inside my mind. “Do you mean our as in you and me or you and the Keans and Ifrinns?”

Fuck. I can’t seem to control my mouth and the shit I say. “The world is a dangerous place, Lucy, and you’ve chosen to enter the most dangerous parts, just like I have.”

“Who do you work for?”

My fingers grip the wheel until it might crumble in my hands. “I’m not part of your story.”

“FBI? DEA?”

“Lucy—”

She blows out a breath. “Okay. I suppose if you’re undercover, you can’t tell me.”

I don’t say anything, but I’m relieved that it appears she’s going to let it go. I feel like shit lying to her, especially since I just fucked her and told her she’s mine.

“I do want to look more into the Ifrinns. Do you think the Keans killed the sons?”

If she only knew she was speaking to one of the sons. The irony would be funny if it wasn’t so damn tragic.

“No.” I remind myself to tread carefully.

“Why not? The man tonight said if the sons were still alive, they’d be taking revenge.”

“Who says they’re not?” I turn my head to look out the driver’s side window, inwardly kicking myself for again saying too much.

“You think they’re here? In Boston?”

I shrug. “I think if they were dead, the Keans would have made a big show of it.”

“But they could have been in the house.”

“If that were true, where are the bodies?”

“Disintegrated?” she said, sending a chill through me.

“Why would theirs be… disintegrated but no one else’s?”

Her brow furrows. “Good point. And you think they’re back?”

“I didn’t say that. What I said is that we don’t know where they are or what they’re doing. For all you know, you could have run into them.” Fucking hell. Shut up, Flint.

Her expression is intrigued but then she shakes her head. “I think we’d know. They’d be recognized.”

“You think?”

She looks at me and for a moment, I want her to see Flint Ifrinn. But I was seventeen when my family was killed. I was smaller in build, softer, with a face rounder from youth, my skin clean of tattoos and scars.

“Maybe not. Ten years is a long time.”

I pull up to her building and walk her to her apartment.

She fumbles with her keys, and I grimace at the cheap lock. ‘This thing wouldn’t keep out a determined kid with a credit card.’

‘Are you speaking from experience?’ Lucy raises an eyebrow.

‘Maybe. You need better security. At least a deadbolt.’

‘Always the protector.’ She turns to face me, keys dangling forgotten in her hand.

The hallway feels smaller, the air thicker. Lucy’s pulse jumps at her throat, and I want to trace it with my tongue. After what happened in that bathroom, my body craves more of her.

‘Someone has to keep you safe.’ My voice comes out rough. ‘Since you seem determined to chase danger.’

She tilts her chin up. ‘Maybe I like a little danger.’

The space between us disappears. My hand finds her waist, drawing her closer. Her breath catches as I lean down, pressing my lips to hers in what’s meant to be a gentle goodnight kiss.

But the moment our mouths meet, electricity shoots through me. Lucy’s fingers curl into my shirt, and it takes every ounce of control not to pin her against the door and take her right here in the hallway.

I break away before I lose that control completely. Her lips are slightly parted, cheeks flushed, and Christ, I want her.

‘Goodnight, Lucy.’ I step back, shoving my hands in my pockets before they can reach for her again.

She opens her door and steps into her apartment. ‘Goodnight, Flynn.’ Our gazes hold until she finally shuts the door.

I need a hot shower so I head home, on the way calling my brother Phoenix, who happens to be with Ash and Blaise.

“How was the fight?” Phoenix asks, putting me on speaker phone.

“Better than I expected.” I decide it’s better not to mention fucking Lucy in the bathroom.

“Why don’t you come here and⁠—”

“Lucy overheard someone say someone in the house let in Kean’s men.”

There’s silence.

“You’re saying someone in the family betrayed us?” Ash growls.

“That’s crazy,” Blaise says.

“I’m just saying what she heard.”

“Did they name names?” Phoenix asks.

“No, but they still work for the Keans. I’m thinking of heading to the pub later⁠—”

“What the fuck, Flint. Do you think they’re going to talk to you after kicking their asses?” Ash asks in disbelief.

I roll my shoulders from the tension growing at the idea of having to fight again. “Not tonight. Besides, I’m hoping they’ve forgotten.”

Blaise laughs. “More likely, you’re hoping to see your nosy reporter.”

“Shut up, Blaise.” I wince at how defensive I sound.

“Don’t get attached,” Ash warns.

‘I’m not attached. It was your idea to use her. Besides, she’s at home.” Fuck, TMI, Flint.

“Tucked safely in bed, I bet,” Blaise taunts.

‘Fuck off.’

“Alright, that’s enough,” Phoenix interjects in that parental tone of his.

‘Sure, sure,” Blaise says. I can’t see him, but I’m sure he’s holding up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Just remember, the closer you get to this girl, the harder it’ll be when she finds out who you really are.’

Don’t I know it. ‘Let me worry about Lucy. You can help by finding our traitor.’

“Be careful, Flint,” Phoenix says.

Two nights later, I feel more like normal. I’m pining over Lucy like a fucking puppy dog, although I did have to jerk off both mornings after waking with a hard-on. It’s a little early to head to the pub, but a little early is a good time to find the regulars settling before the after dinner crowd picks up.

The last time I was here was when I had to save Lucy’s ass. But I can’t think about that now. Focus, Flint.

I step inside the pub, making a beeline for the bar when a meaty hand clamps down on my shoulder.

‘Hold up.’ The bouncer’s face darkens with recognition. ‘You’re the prick who jumped my boys in the alley.’

I keep my expression neutral. ‘Just here for a drink.’

‘Like hell you are.’ His fingers dig deeper. I do my best not to wince even though he’s found a bruise I gained at the fight two nights ago.

‘Hey, Mike!’ A stocky guy with a crooked nose approaches, eyes lighting up. ‘This is the fighter from the other night. The one who destroyed O’Malley.’

Mike’s grip loosens slightly. ‘That right?’

‘Damn straight. Like Daniel taking down Goliath.’ Crooked Nose extends his hand. ‘Name’s Patrick. You got skills, kid. Real skills.’

I shake his hand, maintaining my fighter persona. ‘Thanks. Just trying to earn some extra cash.’

‘Cash?’ Patrick laughs. ‘You could earn way more working for Mr. Kean. We’re always looking for guys who can handle themselves.’

‘Appreciate the offer, but I prefer keeping things simple. Just want to fight, collect my winnings, maybe have a quiet drink.’ I nod toward the bar.

‘Your loss.’ Patrick shrugs, then turns to Mike. ‘Let him be. He’s good people.’

Mike releases my shoulder with a grunt. I slide onto a barstool, ordering whiskey neat, needing something stronger than beer. I feel like I’m on borrowed time here. Mike and Patrick don’t seem too worried about me, but Conner and O’Brian might. My original plan was to keep a low profile while also fitting in. Sort of hide in plain sight. But between the incident in the alley and now the fight, I’m drawing too much attention to myself. I need to find another way to get information.

I act normal as I drink my whiskey and toss a tip on the counter and make my way to the exit.

“Sure you don’t want to give up the fights for something more lucrative?” Patrick says as I reach the door.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m happy with the fights.” I leave the pub and head to my car. Lucy’s face flashes through my mind. She’s already knee-deep in this investigation, already has contacts and sources willing to talk to a pretty journalist. And she’s going to keep digging whether I help her or not.

Maybe it’s time to change tactics, let her take point while I fade back into the shadows where I belong.

I pull out my phone, checking the time. I don’t know if she has regular hours. If she does, she should be home. Either way, I decide to go to her place.

When I get there, I knock, but there’s no answer. A sliver of worry slides down my spine, concerned that she’s met foul play. I check her door, and I’m pissed that she hasn’t updated her locks while glad that I can slip in. I use my license to break in again. She’ll be pissed, but maybe she’ll get the point. If I can break in, so can Kean’s men.

I prowl through her living room, taking in the organized chaos of her investigative work. Papers spread across her coffee table, Post-It notes on her walls connecting various Kean family members. She’s thorough, I’ll give her that. And determined.

Her bedroom door stands ajar. I shouldn’t look, really shouldn’t. But I need to check all entry points, right? The window fire escape needs better locks too. At least that’s what I tell myself as I step inside.

Her bed is unmade, sheets tangled like she rushed out this morning. A well-worn robe is draped over a chair.

I head to her kitchen and raid her refrigerator, finding a bottle of beer. Opening it, I take it with me to the couch and settle in with her notes to see if she has anything new. She’s already gathered impressive intel on the Keans’ operation. Considering how easily she gets into trouble, I’m surprised the Keans aren’t on to her. If she’s going to keep poking her nose deeper and deeper into the Keans and the murder of my family, she’ll need protection. She’ll need me to stick close to her.

I smile as I sip my beer. Yes, indeed. I plan to stick to Lucy like Super Glue.