Page 9 of Crown of Smoke

That snaps me out of my daze. "I'm not scared."

"Prove it."

Before I can answer, his front door bursts open. In an instant, he’s up, ready for a fight.

Three men saunter in. Once Flynn sees them, the tension in him substantially drops.

"What the hell were you thinking?” the one in front asks. I get the sense that he’s the leader. "Taking on Kean's men? You were supposed to?—”

“Is she the woman?” a second man with blond hair and a more polished appearance from the other two asks.

The tension rises in Flynn again.

"You compromised everything." The first man steps forward, his face twisted in anger. "Months of work down the drain because you couldn't keep your hero complex in check."

"They were going to kill her." Flynn’s voice turns to ice.

The third man scoffs. "That's not our problem. The mission?—”

There’s that word again. Mission. Months of work. I must be right in thinking Flynn was trying to infiltrate Kean’s crew, and now he’s an enemy because he saved me. I feel worse than I did before at messing up a plan to bring the Kean family down.

I wonder who they work for? Undercover police? FBI? DEA? Some specialized task force?

"We need to contain this," the first man says, glancing at me.

Flynn steps between them and me, his shoulders rigid. "Touch her, and we'll have problems."

I watch them. Study them. Whatever's happening here, I've stumbled into something much bigger than a simple undercover operation.

They’re all angry because I ruined things for them. But maybe I can help them. And by helping them, I can get an even bigger story than I initially planned.

"I can help you," I blurt out. The three men turn to stare at me, but I focus on Flynn. "I've been researching the Keans for months. I have contacts, information?—”

"No." Flynn's voice cuts through my enthusiasm.

"But I’ve done lots of research, learned a great deal about them. I know they’re behind a fire that took place a decade ago?—”

“What do you know about it?” the leader asks.

“She doesn’t know anything we don’t already know,” Flynn says, eying me in a way that I suspect means to keep my mouth shut.

“How do you know, Flint? Let’s ask,” the blond asks.

Flint?“I thought you were Flynn.”

“I am,” he grinds out, tossing a sideways glance to the other men.

The blond man arches a brow. “We call him Flint… like Fred Flintstone. You know, the Stone-Age guy with no sense.”

I have a vague idea of what he’s talking about, but the reference is really old. I decide to move on because I’m more interested in the story. “I can ask questions without raising suspicion?—”

“Did tonight teach you nothing?” Flynn turns to face me, his blue eyes blazing. “This isn't some story you can chase. These people don't just rough up nosy reporters. They make them disappear.”

“Flint… Flynn.” The leader’s voice holds censure. “Don’t be an ass. You’re scaring her.”

“No, I’m not.” Flynn looks like he’s about at the end of his rope. “She had the nerve to tell me she had it under control. That was after I stopped them from violating and murdering her."

I’m grateful to Flynn, but this story is burning in my gut. I have to get it. "I know the risks. I've been tracking their movements, their connections. I could?—”

---