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I shove him when what I really want to do is hit him. "You think I don't know the risks? That I wanted this?"

"I think you're compromised. The Flint I know wouldn't have killed a cop in plain sight. Wouldn't have blown his cover for some journalist."

"She's not justsome journalist."

"Exactly my point." He lets out a breath and his voice softens. "Let her go, Flint. Before she becomes another name we add to that list of the dead."

I turn away, unable to look at him. He doesn't understand. If she publishes anything unsavory about the Keans, they won't let her walk away, and I won't let them hurt her. Even though she doesn’t trust me, never wants to see me again. I can’t not protect her.

“The good news is that Marshall’s death is being reported as a mugging gone bad.” Ash is on to the next topic.

I nod.

“Blaise went to O’Malley’s. Saw Marshall still undiscovered.”

“Talk about risking exposure,” I quip.

“Yeah, well someone needs to be proactive. He called the cops anonymously. Said he saw one of Kean’s men with Marshall.”

“That’s not on the news.”

Ash shrugs. “I imagine Marshall’s dirty cops are going to be more loyal to Kean than their now dead boss.”

“Thanks.” I don’t really feel thankful, but I know my brothers are doing their best to help and protect me.

Later that night,I pull a Lucy stunt and head to O’Malley’s just to see what the regulars are saying about Marshall’s demise. As I walk through the door, the stench of stale beer and cigarettes hits my nostrils. Every instinct screams this is stupid, but I need to know what's being said on the streets. I need to know what I need to prepare for. What I need to do to protect Lucy.

The usual crowd fills the pub, Kean's men scattered throughout. A few faces turn my way, but most are focused on their drinks.

I slide onto a barstool, keeping my head down. "Whiskey. Neat."

The bartender grunts, pouring the amber liquid. His eyes narrow slightly as he sets it down. “Alone?”

Fuck. He remembers Lucy. “What can I say? Got dumped.”

He shrugs. “Happens to the best of us.”

I take a slow sip of my whiskey, letting the burn coat my throat. "At least I’m still alive. Heard about that guy in the alley. Nasty business."

"Yeah." The bartender leans in, lowering his voice. "Word is it wasn't no robbery. Someone knew what they were doing."

I keep my expression neutral, though my pulse quickens. "No kidding? I heard he’s a cop. Someone’s got balls the size of boulders. Any leads?"

"Cops are sniffing around, but…" He shrugs. "Marshall had his fingers in lots of pies, if you know what I mean. Could've been anyone with a grudge."

Two of Kean's enforcers walk in, and I turn slightly away, angling my face from view. They take a table near the door, their voices carrying.

"Boss wants everyone on alert, but keeping low. Who knows what Marshall told his killer…"

My fingers tighten around the glass. If Hampton Kean is worried about what Marshall knew, maybe the cop had more dirt on them than we realized. I should have questioned him before…

I drain my whiskey thinking I've pushed my luck far enough for one night. I'm about to leave O'Malley's when O'Brian's bulk fills the doorway, Connor at his shoulder. The bruises from our alley fight have faded, but the way his eyes narrow when he spots me suggests they haven’t faded from his memory.

"Well, if it ain't the hero." O'Brian's lips curl into a sneer. "Heard you've been making quite the name for yourself in the ring."

I keep my voice level. "Just trying to get by like everyone else."

Connor circles behind me. "Where’s your damsel in distress?"