Page 8 of Crown of Smoke

He turns back to me. “Nothing. I just happened to be there and noticed you not so subtly poking your nose into people’s business who don’t like that, as you’ve discovered.”

“Are we in danger now?”

“I think we’re okay.” He crosses his arms as he looks down at me. It makes me feel like I’m a child about to be reprimanded. “Whatever story you’re hoping to get from the Keans, you should stop.”

“Why were you there?”

His jaw ticks as his eyes narrow. For a minute I think he’s going to ignore my question.

“I had a mission of my own, but you put a wrench in it.”

A mission? That’s an interesting term to use. Is he an undercover cop, maybe, or a federal agent?

"And I messed that up?”

"By nearly getting yourself killed?" His laugh holds no humor. "Yeah, you could say that."

I remember one of the men knowing Flynn. “They knew you.”

He doesn’t respond.

My mind is going a million miles a minute to put the pieces together. “You’ve met them before. Maybe you’re trying to infiltrate them. What kind of mission requires you to befriend Kean thugs?"

His eyes flash with danger. "The kind you don't want to know about."

But that's exactly the kind of information I need to know. Every instinct tells me this story is bigger than a simple bar fight. The way he moves, his way of taking in everything around him all at once, his careful words… he could help my story.

“I do want to know?—”

"Drop it, Lucy." He cuts me off, voice sharp enough to make me flinch. "Some questions are better left unasked."

"I'm sorry." The words slip out before I can stop them. "For ruining whatever you were working on. I didn't mean to?—”

"You're apologizing?" Flynn's eyebrows lift, and a hint of that earlier playfulness returns to his face. "That's new."

I cross my arms, careful of the bandage. "I can admit when I've messed up."

He moves closer, sitting next to me, and my breath catches at his proximity. "In that case…" His voice drops lower, sending warmth spreading through me. "You could make it up to me."

"How?" My breath holds. I’ve got that same eager anticipation mixed with fear coursing through me at what he might suggest.

His blue eyes lock with mine, a dangerous glint in them. "Have dinner with me."

I don’t know what I was expecting… well, actually, I do. I was thinking he wanted to invite me to his bed. I wasn’t expecting him to ask me for a date. "What?"

"Dinner. You, me, food." His lips curve into that infuriating half-smile. "It's this thing people do when they want to get to know each other."

I should say no. This man could be a cop or perhaps he’s a rival of the Keans. Either way, danger is definitely a part of his life.

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Well, you did derail my evening plans." He leans closer, his gaze drifting to my lips. He wants to kiss me. I think I might let him. Good golly, what is wrong with me?

"Seems only fair that you provide alternative entertainment,” he finishes.

My thoughts go back to his bed, and my cheeks burn. “That's… that's not…"

"Just dinner, Lucy." He tilts his head to the side. "Unless you're scared?"

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