Page 16 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

“You’ll come too, right, Kasey?” James’s question draws Logan and me out of our conversation, and I find another man whose name I haven’t bothered to learn standing between James and Matteo’s chairs.

Each of their knowing looks makes me wonder why Logan and I are bothering to keep things a secret at all. Seems like everyone already knows.

“No,” Logan says.

“Come where?” As I ask the question, I try to scoot my chair away from Logan’s, but it won’t budge.

He’s still holding it.

As inconspicuously as I can, I reach one hand under the table and swat at Logan’s arm.

Matteo shoots Logan a wary look before he says, “We go out to one of the clubs after family dinner.”

Logan’s hand doesn’t move, even when I try peeling his fingers from the chair, so I dig my nails into his skin.

He speaks on my behalf again . “She’s going back with Damon.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Damon says. “She can go if she wants.”

“No, she can’t,” Logan grits out.

I’m squeezing Logan’s arm as hard as I can, but aside from a ghost of a wince, it’s a wasted effort.

I give up and go a different route.

“I would love to go,” I say. “Who else is coming?”

“Everyone,” Matteo answers.

“Except for you,” Logan says, then looks to Damon. “You’re her bodyguard. If you’re not going, she isn’t either.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” James supplies, a cheerful smile on his face like he knows this is anything but helpful to his brother.

“Good enough for me,” I say.

I’m up for anything that’ll piss off Logan.

“It’s not your job to watch her,” he tells James. “She doesn’t need to go.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to snap at him, but I don’t. I might like to take jabs at Logan, but I did agree to show respect in front of his men.

“I don’t mind,” James says. “It’ll be nice to get to know you better.”

If I weren’t hell-bent on defying Logan, that statement would’ve been enough for me to change my mind and go back to the manor. A night out is one thing, getting to know people is another entirely.

Still, I find myself answering with a wide smile. “Sounds great.”

“White House?” Matteo asks.

“Yes.”

“Pentagon?”

“Yes.”

“Fort Knox?”

“Not as secure as you’d think.”

James takes a long sip of his beer. “Maybe it’d be faster for you to tell us the places you haven’t broken into.”

“Getting in is easy. It’s trying to do something without leaving a footprint that gets tricky. Most of those places I only hacked into to prove that I could. I didn’t actually do anything.”

“But you could’ve,” Matteo states.

A wicked smile is my only answer.

“So, I know what your job is,” I say with a finger pointed at James, then move it to Matteo, “but what do you do?”

“A little bit of everything,” he says between sips. “I’ve only been at this base since Logan took over. I was in Detroit before then, working with my father.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“My expertise lies in family trade, within our territory and out of it.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a job to me.”

Matteo’s lips twitch in an exasperated smile. “I have a feeling you could easily track a day of my work.”

“I did,” I confirm. “It just doesn’t seem like enough of a job to qualify you to be a capo.”

James stifles a laugh.

“You’re a hard person to like,” Matteo mutters.

I wave a dismissive hand and sip the drink that blissfully burns my taste buds and every nerve along my throat.

He shakes his head as he studies me, but I don’t care enough to wonder what conclusion he’s drawing. I scan the club—not for the first time.

It’s a small place, not overly crowded like the clubs I’ve been to before, and much cleaner. The building is full of Consoli soldiers, and it seems like the only other people they’ve let in are women in revealing dresses.

Once again, I’m wildly underdressed.

None of the soldiers approach me, and I’m sure it has to do with the two men flanking me. Either that or the show Logan put on by dragging my chair to his during family dinner.

Regardless of the reason, I’m glad to be left alone.

I watch the crowd of people dancing, but I haven’t seen Logan anywhere.

I’m not sure I could articulate what it is I want from him, only that the idea of him not showing up brings on a sense of disappointment.

But what was I expecting? It’s not like I came here to spend time with him.

The only reason I’m here is because I wanted to piss him off at dinner.

I’ll give it another half hour before asking James to take me back to the manor.

“Okay,” Matteo says. “What about popular brands? McDonald’s? Coca-Cola? Honda?”

“No, no, and yes.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and I answer before he asks. “One of my first clients was suing over a manufacturing issue. They hired me to plant evidence.”

He shakes his head. “Do you take any job you’re offered?”

“Hardly. I only accept a few of the jobs I’m scouted for.”

“Why?” James asks.

I look over my shoulder to where he’s leaning casually against the bar and shrug. “Only a few clients can pass my test.”

“And what about your test makes someone a worthy candidate?”

Instead of answering, I ask, “What was your first impression of me when we met?”

He narrows his eyes but indulges me. “The bark matched the bite.”

“And if I’d posed a physical threat?”

His lip hints at turning up as he follows my line of thinking. “I would’ve used a real nerve agent.”

“Exactly. I need a way to gauge potential clients. Reading people is easy when they’re sitting in front of you, but it’s harder behind a screen. Seeing how they react to the test tells me more than any meeting would. If they have the patience and caliber to pass, they’re usually worth my time.”

He drinks from his beer as he listens, then sets it on the counter and motions for another. “How did our reaction rank?”

“Entertaining enough to earn my interest.”

“We handled it well, all things considered.”

I laugh. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“You can’t know that for sure. You weren’t there.”

The words are a noose tightening around my throat.

He said it so casually, without a hint of suspicion or accusation—but I feel it.

I never told the Consolis I hacked into the camera feed to watch them take my test, but it seems James has already guessed it and is fishing for confirmation.

I take a long sip of my drink as I watch him.

James is the only Consoli sibling I haven’t quite figured out.

Elise is personable and kind. Damon is a mischievous goofball. Logan is an egomaniac. Even Matteo—I’m starting to learn—is a happy-go-lucky playboy.

But James isn’t so simple.

He seems—by the standards of the criminal world—normal. I would never guess by looking at him that he’s one of the most dangerous men in the country. He’s quiet, which I made the mistake of interpreting as harmless at our first meeting.

I’ve never seen him riled up or even mildly frustrated. He’s always calm, level-headed, and easygoing. He’s quick to smile and ease the tension in a room. Whenever I’m around James, there’s a sort of peace in the atmosphere, coaxing me to relax.

Which is exactly why I need to stay on my guard around him.

“Educated guess," I say, planting a sweet smile on my lips. “The test also gives me time to ensure I have more dirt on my client than they could ever have on me.”

“So, you have dirt on our family?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“Guess it’s up for interpretation, then.”

James and Matteo straighten at the same time the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and that’s all the confirmation I need to know he’s here.

I finish off the last of my drink and wave to the bartender for a refill before scanning the room. He approaches a group of soldiers, wearing a tight smile, as he leans one elbow against a table with a whiskey glass cradled in his hand.

“Here,” Matteo says, holding out a newly filled glass to me.

Just before the glass reaches my hand, it slips from Matteo’s grip, and I barely catch it before the contents spill all over me. I manage to save most of the whiskey, but some still splashes onto my jeans.

I curse under my breath.

“Let me help with that.” Matteo already has a stack of napkins in his hand, and he presses them to my thigh.

I set the now-sticky glass on the bar top and shove Matteo’s hand away. “You’ve done enough damage.”

“Can you get the lady a new glass?” Matteo asks the bartender, who rushes to do just that.

Once I’ve cleaned the mess as much as possible, I look up to find Matteo smiling and James looking like there’s still a huge mess to clean up, but his focus isn’t on me.

Just as I accept my new glass, I let my eyes find Logan.

He isn’t alone.

He’s still loosely with a group of Consoli soldiers, but his attention is on the long-haired brunette rubbing herself all over him in her skin-tight, neon pink dress.

With his head leaning back lazily, Logan doesn’t have to do much to engage with the girl as she sways and grinds on him. He watches with one hand resting on her hip as he sips his drink.

In a slow, deliberate motion, he turns his head to meet my gaze with an unmistakable challenge gleaming in his sharp green eyes.

Neither Logan nor I look away from the other, and I wonder if he’s imagining what I’d look like in a jealous rage.

Well, if a jealous rage is what he wants, a jealous rage is what he’ll get.