Chapter 21: Crown of Smoke: Chapter 21

I‘m thrilled that Flynn has entrusted me to talk to Marshall. For the first time, he’s treating me as a partner rather than someone to protect. It helps make up for how evasive he is about his work and his past, which I’m still determined to learn about.

This is my chance to prove my worth, to show Flynn I can handle myself. I slide onto the barstool next to Marshall, ordering a white wine to steady my nerves. The detective’s shoulders are hunched, his tie loosened after what I assume was a long day at the precinct.

‘Rough day?’ I ask, keeping my voice casual.

He grunts, barely glancing my way. ‘Something like that.’

‘I’m Lucy. Are you a regular here?”

He studies me, his eyes going from cautious to curious as he takes me in. “I think that’s my line.”

In that moment, it dawns on me that my question probably came across as flirting. I avoid the shudder at the thought that this man thinks I might be interested in him.

“So, why the long face? Tough day at the office? Are you a businessman?”

‘I’m no businessman.’

“Oh. I was thinking you might be the owner. I’ve heard he’s really successful.”

Marshall laughs. “Looking for a sugar daddy, little lady?”

Ugh. Gross. “No. I’m just interested in the stories about people and places. I find it fascinating.”

Marshall’s lips curl into a patronizing smile that makes my skin crawl. He swivels on his barstool to face me fully, ice clinking in his glass. ‘Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be poking around the Keans. Especially not here.’ He gestures at our surroundings. ‘This is their territory. Wouldn’t want anything… unfortunate to happen.’

The threat in his voice is clear, but I force myself to maintain my innocent expression. ‘Territory? That’s an odd way of putting it. It almost makes them sound like a gang, not a successful business family.” I take a delicate sip of my drink. ‘The way they built their empire practically overnight, it’s fascinating.’

‘Fascinating isn’t the word I’d use.’ Marshall’s eyes narrow, though his smile remains fixed. ‘Pretty lady like you should be smart enough to mind their own business.’

I pout in a way that makes me think I’m about to lose my feminist card, but I know it will make Marshall think I’m a dumb blonde. “Are you saying I’m not smart?”

Marshall’s amused expression doesn’t waver, but something cold flashes in his eyes. He leans closer, alcohol heavy on his breath. “I’m sorry if I offended you. Listen, if you’d really like to know about the Keans, I can give you the inside scoop, but not here.” He glances around. “Too many prying eyes.”

“Where?” Even as I ask, I know I shouldn’t.

“Not far. Just outside. I could use a smoke.”

He must see the hesitation in my face as he adds, “I’ve got some stories that would interest you.’

My instincts scream that following him is a terrible idea, but this could be my chance to learn what really happened. I scan the crowd for Flynn, but he’s surrounded by a group of men who appear to be fawning over him and his fighting prowess.

‘Lead the way,’ I say, gathering my purse.

Marshall guides me through the front door, which is a relief. We’re on a main street with people and cars passing by.

“Over here.” He steps to the corner of the building that leads to the alley. Nope, I’m not going back there. Memories of my encounter with Kean’s men make my stomach roil.

But he leans against the corner of the building and lights a cigarette. ‘You think you’re clever?’

“Do I?”

His friendly demeanor vanishes. ‘You think I can’t spot a nosy reporter?’

Does he recognize me from somewhere? Maybe someone in the bar tipped him off. I glance around and notice that the street has gone awfully quiet.

‘The Keans own this city,’ he hisses. ‘Consider this a professional courtesy, one you won’t get again. Drop whatever story you’re investigating.’

“They’re a successful business family. Why would that be a threat to them? Most businesses like to tout their success.”

“The Keans aren’t most businesses. Walk away now, while you still can. Next time, I won’t be so nice about it.’

I’m scared to death, but I refuse to back down. This man is supposed to be a good guy. ‘If the Keans are as dangerous as you’re implying, why aren’t they in jail? Isn’t that your job, Superintendent Marshall, to protect people from criminals?’

At first, his eyes widen, like he’s surprised that I know who he is. But if he’s caught on to my being a reporter, then he should know that I’m aware of who he is.

He recovers quickly and gives me a cold laugh. “So naive. You think justice is black and white?’

‘I think if someone’s breaking the law, they should face consequences.’

‘And how do you propose we do that?’ He spreads his arms wide. ‘Where’s your evidence? Your proof? You can’t jail someone because they make you uncomfortable.’

‘People disappear,’ I snap. ‘You just threatened me with it yourself. That’s not discomfort. That’s criminal.’

‘Prove it.’ His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘Prove I threatened you. Prove the Keans had anything to do with those disappearances. Hell, prove there were any disappearances at all.’

Frustration grows. ‘So, you’re telling me you know they’re guilty, but you won’t do anything about it?’

‘I’m telling you that accusations without evidence are worthless.’ He sucks on his cigarette and then drops it to the ground, crushing it under the toe of his shoe. ‘And pursuing them is dangerous. For your health.’

‘You’re supposed to investigate crimes, gather evidence. Not cover them up.’

‘Watch your mouth.’ His voice turns sharp. ‘That’s a serious accusation against a law enforcement officer. One you can’t prove.’

For a moment, he stares at me. I get the impression he’s trying to make a decision, one that could impact my life. It’s past time I left. Flynn will be furious when he learns I came out here.

“I’ll keep your warning in mind.” I turn and head back to the bar.

“I’m thinking it’s too late for that.” Marshall’s hand grips my arm forcefully as he yanks me into the alley.

“No.” I try to tug free, but his fingers dig deeper into my arm.

‘Let her go.’ Flynn’s voice cuts through the night.

Marshall barely spares him a glance. ‘This doesn’t concern you. Walk away.’

‘I said…’ Flynn steps closer. ‘Let. Her. Go.’

Something in his tone makes Marshall look up, really look at him this time. Something like recognition crosses his face. ‘Flint Ifrinn. Back from the dead.”

Marshall’s hand loosens, and I tug my arm free, rubbing it.

“Go back to the car, Lucy,” Flynn’s voice commands.

“I always figured you’d be back. Are you alone, or are your brothers lurking about?” Marshall asks.

My brain finally catches up. Did he just call Flynn Flint Ifrinn?

“Go,” Flynn snaps at me.

“You look just like your father,” Marshall says. “Ugly son of a bitch, he was.”

‘You would know.’ Flynn’s voice drips with venom. ‘You were there often enough, weren’t you? Taking my father’s money while plotting with Hampton behind his back.’

He shrugs. “You know how it is. Business.”

“Did you help set the fire? What did Hampton offer you that was worth betraying my father?’

Marshall’s face twists. ‘Your father was weak. Hampton had vision. Sometimes, progress requires… sacrifice.’

I press myself against the wall, watching this exchange unfold. The undercover cop story crumbles in my mind. Flynn isn’t investigating the Keans. He’s hunting them. He’s one of the missing Ifrinn brothers.

“Funny you should say that.” Flynn steps closer to Marshall, who lifts his chin in defiance, but I see the fear in his eyes. “Me and my brothers have a vision too. Want to hear it?”

I can’t move, frozen against the cold brick as I watch the scene unfold like a nightmare. The playful, protective man I’ve grown to care for transforms before my eyes into something else entirely. Something lethal and merciless.

“You can’t kill me.” Fear quavers in Marshall’s voice even as he tries to look tough.

“I think I can.” Flint moves with frightening speed, dragging Marshall deeper into the shadows. The detective’s pleas cut off as Flynn’s fists fly. I hear the crunch of bone. Marshall’s head flies back, hitting the wall with a thud that makes my stomach pitch. Marshall sags against the wall, but Flynn doesn’t stop. There’s no hesitation, no mercy in Flynn’s movements. This isn’t self-defense or justice. It’s an execution.

I want to look away but can’t. The man I thought was an undercover cop dispatches Marshall with the practiced efficiency of someone who has killed before. When it’s done, Flynn—no, it’s Flint—lets the body slump to the ground, his shoulders heaving with controlled breaths.

“Is… is he dead…?” My entire body is shaking.

“Yes.”

The pieces click together with devastating clarity. I’ve been sleeping with, falling for, a man whose family once controlled Boston’s criminal underground. A man who just murdered someone in cold blood right in front of me.

My legs give out and I slide down the wall, unable to process the horror of what I’ve witnessed. The sound draws Flint’s attention. When he turns to face me, his blue eyes, the ones that have looked at me with such warmth and desire, are cold and empty. For the first time, I see him clearly for what he is—not a protector, but a predator.

Almost immediately, that look is gone, replaced with concern. ‘Lucy…’ He takes a step toward me.

I scramble up, knowing I need to escape. ‘You lied to me.”

‘Lucy, we need to leave.” He reaches out for me.

‘Stay back! You’re not a cop. You’re… you’re one of them.’

‘I’m nothing like the Keans.’ His jaw tightens. ‘They murdered my family.’

“That doesn’t give you the right⁠—”

“Doesn’t it?” I see the flash of the monster again.

I don’t wait to hear more. Terror propels me forward and I bolt toward the street. I only make it a few steps before strong arms catch me from behind.

‘Let me go!’ I thrash against his grip.

‘Lucy, stop.’ His voice is urgent in my ear. ‘Marshall’s men will be looking for him soon. We need to leave. Now.’

‘We?’ I try to wrench free. ‘There is no we. You used me!’

‘I protected you.’ His grip tightens. ‘And right now, I’m trying to keep you alive. Let me get you somewhere safe. Then you can hate me all you want.’

“You’ll just kill me too.” Instinct takes over. The self-defense moves Flint taught me flash through my mind. I drive my elbow back into his solar plexus, just like he showed me. His grip loosens with a grunt of surprise. I twist away, using my momentum to break free.

‘Lucy, stop!’ His voice carries that commanding tone that used to make me feel safe. Now it terrifies me.

I sprint up the street, but he recovers quickly. His footsteps thunder behind me. Before I can reach the pub’s front entrance, he catches me again, spinning me to face him.

‘The Keans will kill you,’ he growls, pinning my arms. ‘You think they won’t find out you’re the same woman I saved from his men? That you were the woman who lured Marshall to his death?”

“I did not.” Did I? Was Flint just using me to lure Marshall?

“No, but they’ll think you did.”

‘Let me go!’ I struggle against his iron grip. ‘I trusted you!’

‘And I’ve kept you safe.’ His blue eyes bore into mine, desperate. ‘Why do you think I followed you that first night? Why I kept warning you away from the Keans? They’re murderers, Lucy. They killed my parents.”

‘And you just killed a man!’ I try to knee him like he taught me, but he blocks it easily.

‘Marshall was dirty. You know that. He as much as admitted to helping kill my family.’ His voice cracks with raw pain. ‘But right now, that doesn’t matter. His body will be found and someone in the bar will tell them how he left with a blonde woman.’

I shake my head, fighting back tears. ‘You’re lying. You’ve been lying this whole time.’

‘Only my name.’ His grip gentles but doesn’t release. ‘But not about the danger. Not about wanting to protect you. Lucy, please. Let me get you somewhere safe. After that, you don’t have to see me. But right now, I’m your only chance at surviving the night.’

The worst part is, I know he’s right. I saw Marshall’s face. I heard his confession. If the Keans find out I witnessed his death… if they put together I was the woman in the alley with the men Flint beat up… if they learn I’ve been investigating them… I’m a dead woman. But to go with Flint? He’s a part of them.

‘I’ll go to the police,’ I say, my voice trembling. ‘Tell them everything. About Marshall’s corruption, the Keans’ involvement, your family⁠—’

Flint’s grip on my arms tightens. ‘The police? Like Marshall? How many others do you think Hampton Kean has in his pocket?’

Oh, God, he’s right. Hampton Kean has a superintendent in his pocket. That means he could have the whole force on his side.

‘Then I’ll publish the story. Everything I’ve learned, everything I’ve seen⁠—’

‘And sign your death warrant?’ Flint’s eyes flash with anger and fear. ‘The moment your name appears on that story, you’re dead.”

‘I never wanted this,’ I whisper. ‘I just wanted the truth.’

‘The truth?’ His laugh is bitter. ‘The truth is that Hampton Kean orchestrated my family’s murder, and the system you want to trust helped him cover it up. The truth will get you killed, Lucy.’

My hands shake as Flint guides me into his car. The leather seat feels cold against my back, and when he shuts the door, the sound makes me flinch.

He slides into the driver’s seat and speeds off, his eyes darting about like any minute he expects trouble. The city lights blur past the window as my mind spins with questions I’m afraid to ask. Each memory of Flint takes on a darker shade now, his protectiveness morphing into possession, his intensity revealing something more sinister than passion.

Was any of it real? The way he touched me, held me, made me feel safe even as he warned me of danger? Or was I just convenient, a journalist already digging into his enemies, easy to manipulate with a few gentle words and heated kisses?

My throat tightens as I remember how eagerly I shared my research with him, thinking he was an undercover cop. God, I practically handed him everything he needed. Every lead I uncovered, every connection I made, all feeding his revenge plot while I swooned over his mysterious persona.

I steal a glance at Flint’s profile, searching for any trace of the man I thought I knew. His jaw is set, eyes focused on the road with predatory intensity. Even his posture speaks of violence. How did I miss it? The signs were there. His comfort with violence, the way he moved like a weapon waiting to strike.

Now I’m trapped. If I run, the Keans will find me. If I stay… I don’t know Flint Ifrinn. Yes, he’s Flynn, but he’s not. The man I trusted to protect me might be the most dangerous of them all.