Page 19 of Crown of Smoke

But this is also exactly the kind of place where secrets hide.

I grab my phone as I watch Ronan step out of the SUV. He straightens his tie, gestures to his men, then disappears through a side door.

The thrill of the chase floods my veins with adrenaline. This is what I live for, that moment when a story breaks open. Whatever's happening in that warehouse isn't the polished business dealings Ronan presents to the public.

I slip out of my car, staying in the shadows as I ignore the memory of what happened last time I followed Kean men into a dark place. But this is different. This time, I'm prepared. This time, I'm going to expose whatever the Keans are hiding.

I ease the warehouse door open, cringing at the slight creak. My heart beats a million miles a minute as I slip inside, pressing close to the wall. The space is dimly lit by flickering fluorescents, casting strange shadows across stacked crates and machinery.

Voices echo from deeper in the building. I strain to make out words, but they're too muffled. Following the sound, I creep between towers of wooden pallets. Every step feels like tempting fate, but I can't turn back. Not when I'm this close to uncovering something real about the Keans.

A loud clang makes me jump. I duck behind a forklift, holding my breath. Footsteps approach, then fade again. Sweat trickles down my spine and all of a sudden, I’m rethinking this crazy plan. Kate’s right. If I’m killed, the story dies with me.

The voices grow clearer. I recognize Ronan's cultured tone, though I can't make out what he's saying. Another voice responds, deeper, angrier.

I edge closer, staying low. Just a few more feet and I might be able to see them. I start to peek around the forklift when strong arms wrap around me from behind, one hand clamping over my mouth before I can scream. I thrash, but my attacker's grip is like iron as he hauls me off.

8

FLINT

"You idiot," I hiss, practically carrying her toward the side exit. She tries to plant her feet, but I'm not having it. Not this time.

A shout rings out behind us. I haul her the last few feet to the door. I release her mouth to open it, but when she opens her mouth, probably to argue, I clamp my hand over it.

"Not. A. Word."

Fucking hell. What is she thinking? I was up on the catwalk, watching Ronan’s movements when I spotted her ducking behind some crates. What is she doing here?

My warning from days ago rings in my head, clear as a bell. “Stop investigating the Keans.” Four simple words she's completely ignored. Now she'd put herself right in the middle of one of the most dangerous places she could be.

"Stubborn woman," I muttered under my breath. Once again, she’d fucked up my mission. For a moment, I considered staying in my post, doing my job. She hadn’t been too grateful to me the last time I abandoned my duty to save her.

I’m no hero, but neither could I stand by and watch a woman too stubborn for her own good get killed.

My brother's voice crackled in my earpiece. "Is that the journalist?"

"Yeah."

"She's going to get herself killed."

“Dammit.” I yanked out my earpiece before my brother could protest. I crept down to the main floor, behind Lucy, and grabbed her. She had no clue I was behind her, which proves again how ill-equipped she is. If I were one of Ronan’s men, she’d already be dead.

The metal door creaks as I shoulder it open and pull Lucy out. I drag Lucy to the end of the building and then around the corner, hopefully out of sight of any Kean men. My grip is probably too tight, but I can't bring myself to care. Better bruised than dead.

Footsteps echo behind us. Fuck.

“Keep quiet if you want to live.” I release her, grabbing her arm and tugging her so she’ll run with me. I pull her faster, taking sharp turns through the maze of warehouses. My heart's racing, but not from exertion. Pure fear drives me. Fear of what would have happened if I hadn't spotted her in time.

We don't stop until we're several blocks away, hidden between two buildings. Lucy's breathing hard, her face flushed.

I release her arm but cage her against the brick wall, my hands planted on either side of her head. "What part of 'stop investigating the Keans' wasn't clear?"

Lucy shoves against my chest, her small hands balled into fists. "Let me go!"

"Stop fighting me." I press closer, using my body to keep her pinned. "Unless you want Ronan's men to find us. If you want to die, go ahead, but I’ll be damned if you take me with you."

She keeps struggling, landing a solid hit to my shoulder. "I had it under control."

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