Page 29 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kasey

A thousand realizations hit me at once, but two make me sick to my stomach.

First, I built the comms program hidden within the Consoli and Moreno databases.

Second, Brandon hired me to do it.

The floodgate opens, memories rushing back to me with violent force, and I feel like an idiot for not connecting the dots sooner.

That’s why I recognized Brandon.

I hadn’t met him before, but I did have a handful of phone calls with him three years ago.

One of my previous clients referred him to me, so I took the job.

He was looking for someone to create a hidden channel of communication .

It needed to be invisible—unless someone knew exactly where to look—and allow its users to stay connected in a way that would remain untraceable.

At the time—if what I found was accurate—Brandon worked in the cybersecurity unit at the Chicago Police Department. I thought it was for shady cops or some government agency.

Mason must have officially brought Brandon into the Consoli family after I gave him the program, but I have no doubt he had it made for this reason and this reason alone.

Mason had to have known that going through Brandon would make it virtually impossible for his family to trace the program back to him.

How Brandon was able to figure out who I was is the only thing I can’t figure out.

I disguised my voice on the calls and went by Cam like I always do. I know there’s always a possibility of being found out, but Brandon hadn’t seemed like a worthy threat.

I completely underestimated him.

And now, I’m the very culprit Logan is looking for.

We’ll execute every traitor.

No. No .

Logan would never hurt me.

He was horrified after seeing what Brandon did to me. He spent an entire week caring for me. He wouldn’t just turn on me like that.

He couldn’t.

We’ll execute every traitor.

Suddenly, I see my mother’s face the day my father died—the dejection, the grief, the pain.

The look of complete and utter apathy the day she kicked me out.

I see Brandon’s manic expression as he grabbed me by the hair and threw me to the ground.

I see Logan’s purified fury when I told him about the attack.

And like a cruel projection into the future, I see that same look directed at me .

Logan is a dangerous man who can have me tortured with the snap of his fingers. He could end my life as easily as saying the word.

I’ve seen his passion for his work—his family. If he sees me as a threat, as part of the team that helped his brother kill their father, he won’t hesitate to show me the same merciless fate that he intends every one of Mason’s followers to face.

I can’t let that happen to me.

I already have a go-bag ready, complete with a fake ID, passport, and enough money to get somewhere safe. I’ll have to call a car, but it won’t take me long to set up a rideshare account that can’t be traced back to me. I’ll go to the bus station—no, I have Kane, so it’ll have to be the airport.

I hope I have time to get him from the manor.

I’ll buy plane tickets on my credit card, then use cash to buy the tickets I’ll actually take.

I can even set up leads in locations around the country for the Consolis to follow while I hide away long enough for them to lose the scent—and all hope of finding me.

After that, I’ll find a place to settle down, likely out of the country. It shouldn’t be too hard, and I can—

My phone vibrates against the table, and I jump at the sudden sound, pulling me out of my downward spiral.

I stare down at the screen, where Logan’s name flashes.

Usually, seeing his name would make me smile, but right now, all I feel is nauseating dread, and I can’t help but wonder if Ford is coherent enough to have told Logan anything about that day.

Does he know what Brandon said to me?

That I lied to him about what happened?

That I made the comms program?

And what will he do if he does?

“You okay?” Damon asks, and I can hear him shifting on the sofa, but I don’t turn to look at him.

“Yeah,” I say with a shaky breath and force myself to accept the call.

I swallow hard and bring the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” I say, and it’s a weak greeting even to my ears.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asks. “You sound light-headed.”

I clear my throat. “I’m fine. What’s up?”

“You are not fine. Have Damon take you home right now.”

His concern, combined with my recent discovery, is enough to clog my throat, and tears spring to my eyes. I’m careful to angle my body so that Damon can’t see my face.

“I don’t need to go home,” I assure him. “I’m okay. I just—”

“Please?” he asks, and there are so many emotions packed in that single word. “I don’t want you to push it today. I’m already going crazy worrying about you.”

His candor would have been an opening to tease him only weeks ago, but things have changed. He doesn’t say these things because he’s going soft—he says them because they’re true, and he trusts me with the vulnerability of his honesty.

A trust that I value a lot more than I realized.

Maybe I do need to go back to the manor and be alone. If I spend any more time staring at this screen, I’ll drive myself insane.

“Okay,” I relent in a breathless whisper. “I’ll have Damon take me back. Happy?”

His ghost of a laugh reaches through the phone and lifts some of the weight in the pit of my stomach. I commit the sound to memory.

“I’ll be happy when I’m home and tending to you myself.”

“And by tending to me , you mean…?”

“I mean, I’ll take care of all your needs… and a few of my own.”

I smile despite myself. “And you claim you’re not a gentleman.”

“What can I say? You make me a better man.”

My throat burns, and I take a long breath to steady myself. “When will you be home?”

“We’re finishing up at the hospital now, then we’re coming straight home. Should only be a few hours.”

The reminder of why he left in the first place hits me with another wave of guilt.

“How is Ford?”

“Awake, but out of it. He’s been with doctors nonstop since he woke up. We’re having him transferred to a facility in Chicago, so he’s leaving now, too.”

“Does he remember anything?”

“Just flashes. The doctor said his memory may or may not come back, not that it will change much anyway.”

“Right,” I say with a sigh that too closely resembles relief.

“What about you?” Logan asks after a brief hesitation.

“What about me?”

“Have any of your memories come back?”

“I already told you what happened,” I remind him.

“I know, but you could still get some memories back,” he says. “You’ll tell if you do, right?”

“Of course,” I answer instinctively, and the ease with which the lie comes is the last straw. “I have a massive headache, so I’m going to have Damon take me home now. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Can’t wait,” he says, and I end the call.

“Is everything okay?” Damon asks, eyeing me with concern.

“I’m in a lot of pain. Can you take me back to the manor?”

He studies me for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah, let’s go.”

We walk to the garage, and it isn’t difficult to feign my headache. I am in intense pain—just in my chest.

With every step, I wonder what will happen to me when Logan finds out—and he will find out.

I can’t lie my way out of this. Logan is smart, and he’ll figure it out, one way or another.

The only question is, will I still be around when he does?

It’s just past eight when Logan opens the door to my bedroom. As he does, Kane runs into the hallway, and I hear James’s excited greeting as he calls for the dog to go outside with him.

If things don’t work out between Logan and me, James may be the most heartbroken of all.

As Logan closes the door, I am struck by his ability to effortlessly captivate me with the most mundane actions.

His tie is undone, slung lazily over his shoulder, and the navy-blue coat is wrinkled from having been worn all day. His hair is mussed, and his eyes have dark circles beneath them as he appraises me with awe and admiration.

Even the way Logan walks to me—so self-assured—is intoxicating. He holds himself with a confidence that suits him so well, even if it does make him an insufferable ass sometimes.

I soak in every detail of him—relishing being the object of his attention.

I’ve spent hours lying in this room, contemplating my situation over and over again.

I always come to the same solution—a compromise between my self-preservation and desire for Logan.

I’ll wait until I have the list to tell him the truth.

Telling Logan about the comms program now means coming clean about the attack. The circumstances, paired with my lies about Brandon, will only make Logan suspicious. He could see the confession as a desperate attempt to save myself.

Even if he does claim to believe me, he won’t trust me.

Logan’s love for his family runs deeper than anything. If he thinks I’m a threat, his duty to them will always come first—even if it means turning on me.

But if I tell him the truth after he has the list of traitors, he’ll have no reason to doubt me.

Since I know exactly how the program works, it will only take a few hours to get the list. Logan will have everything he needs by tomorrow afternoon.

Then, I’ll tell him everything.

I know there’s a chance that Logan will never want to see me again—even once he has the names—and that scares me more than anything else.

So, the challenge is letting myself enjoy tonight without this secret ruining it.

Now that he’s here, I know it won’t be as difficult as I’d feared. It’s always been effortless to fall headfirst into the comfort Logan offers.

“Welcome home,” I say with a wide smile just before he dips down to kiss me.

Once he’s sufficiently stolen my breath, he pulls away and removes his jacket.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, taking a seat beside me on the bed.

I eye him. “Cheated out of a striptease.”

“You want to be teased?” he asks with a mischievous smile, lowering his lips to brush my throat. “Because I’d be happy to tease you until you’re the one kneeling.”

His lips trail kisses over every inch of my throat, and I lean my head back to give him better access, which he takes full advantage of. Logan climbs atop me, pushing me back onto the bed.

“And would that put me in a position of strength or weakness?” I whisper.

He pulls back to meet my gaze. The gleam in his green eyes is so real , so genuine, I can barely stand taking it in.

“There is no position that could make you weak, beautiful. Especially with me. You could be on your knees, your back, or six feet under, and you’d still be the strongest woman I have ever known.”

The words.

Their meaning.

The absolute conviction in his gaze.

My heart doesn’t race—it stops .

I’m forced to take in this moment in its purest, truest form, and with that comes the realization that I am in way over my head with this man.

And I never want to resurface.

I take his lips and all but fuse us together.

This feeling—the overwhelming contentment mixed with a passionate flame that sears every inch of my skin—makes me wonder what the hell I’ve been doing with my life.

What did I have before this? Before Logan came into my world and made me want, need, and feel for the first time.

He pisses me off. He makes me smile until my face hurts. He makes my body weak with desire. He makes me feel like I’m going insane. He makes me feel cherished and cared for.

He gives, and he takes. He is powerful and vulnerable.

He is everything that I didn’t know I was missing.

Suddenly, he pulls away. His brow furrows, and a look of contemplation mars his features.

I despise the paranoia that springs to life inside me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, making every effort to sound confused rather than nervous.

“This,” he says. “ This is wrong.”

The paranoia shifts to indignation. “A little late to grow a conscience.”

“I want to end this.”

I push at Logan’s chest, but he takes my wrists easily in one hand and holds them above my head.

“Get off me,” I bite out as I struggle against him.

Logan flattens himself against me, pinning me to the bed and holding my gaze with his, which is alight with intention.

“I don’t want a fling,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Yeah, I get the gist. Now get—”

“I want more, Kasey. I want a relationship.”

I freeze, searching his gaze for any hint of teasing—or at the very least, doubt.

There’s neither.

“What?”

His hand eases off my wrists and gently glides down my face.

“I want you, Kasey. I want you to stay when this contract ends, and I want to be with you.”

I can’t explain exactly what happens to my body, only that it feels like I’m floating.

“You—you want to be my boyfriend?” I ask with a breathless laugh, because as enticing as the idea is, calling Logan my boyfriend feels ridiculous.

“I don’t care what you call me as long as you’re mine,” he says with a charming, boyish smile. “Though, boyfriend feels a bit too juvenile and temporary.”

“What would you prefer?”

The smile turns knavish as he takes my left hand and brings the knuckle of my fourth finger to his lips. “Anything that ties you to me for life.”

“That’s quite a while,” I breathe. “You’ll get sick of me.”

“Only one way to find out.”

For the hundredth time today, my throat is thick with emotion, and the weight of my secret pulls me to dark places, no matter how hard I fight to enjoy this moment.

“Logan, I…”

I want to tell him yes—that I’m his , whether I like it or not, and I want him to be mine, too. I want to take his lips again, knowing we’re more than just a fling with a few guidelines. I want to picture a life with Logan—one that isn’t tainted with lies.

And right now, it would be.

I don’t want this secret hanging over my head when I commit to Logan.

I need to tell him the truth, even if it means I could lose him.

“You don’t need to answer right now,” he says, interpreting my hesitation as nerves. “But will you think about it?”

He’s giving me an out, but I don’t need it for the reason he thinks.

I want what he’s offering me. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But it’s not that simple.

I could tell Logan the truth now and risk his wrath—risk losing him.

Or I could wait one more day, then say yes without any secrets between us.

It’s then—in the moment I choose to wait a day—that I understand why I don’t want to.

I am in love with Logan Consoli.

And, though he didn’t explicitly say it, I think he loves me, too.

So, I nod and start counting down the seconds to when I can tell him everything.