Page 31 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Logan

One hour earlier.

I shove my phone into my pocket with a huff.

“Is Ford’s sudden consciousness an inconvenience?” James asks from the passenger seat as I turn the car on.

“I never said that.”

“So, you’re not mad about missing lunch with Kasey?”

“I never said that, either.”

He laughs, but I can only smile because there isn’t a bone in my body that’s ashamed of how I feel about Kasey.

She’s the most selfish, infuriatingly stubborn, and irritating person I have ever met. She gets on my last nerve, pushes every one of my buttons, and makes me contemplate homicide on a daily basis.

And I am absolutely crazy about her.

Realizing that I am in love with Kasey started the second I walked into her hospital room, and solidified while I was holding her last night.

Asking her to stay here, to be something more than a fling, came as naturally as breathing.

My pride has no objections to vulnerability—not when it comes to her.

She’s nothing like the mafia princesses I’d resigned my future to. She won’t come with an empire or a prestigious name. She won’t be quiet and obedient. She won’t secure alliances or lucrative deals.

Of course, it helps that her talent makes her a bigger asset to my family than anyone else could be.

But it wouldn’t matter even if she weren’t.

For the first time in my life, my future is not an obligation to fulfill—it’s an opportunity to embrace.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with her?” James asks in a wary tone, like he expects me to shut him down.

A week ago, I probably would’ve.

“I asked her to stay here after she gets the list,” I tell him.

His mouth falls open as he stares at me like he doesn’t recognize me. “What happened to just a fling ?”

“I don’t want a fling. I want her.”

“You complain about wanting to kill her all the time.”

“That hasn’t changed.”

“What about Isabella?”

“I’m not in love with Isabella,” I answer simply.

There’s a moment of silence, and I don’t stop the smile from reaching my lips.

The satisfaction I feel at saying the words out loud is unmatched. If that’s how it feels to confess this to my brother, I can’t imagine how it’ll feel to tell Kasey.

“You know Mr. Romano isn’t going to take this lightly,” he says, and his eyes spark with a contemplative interest.

I do know that, and while I haven’t decided exactly how I’ll be handling that situation, I don’t worry too much. It’ll work out.

It has to.

Because nothing is going to keep me from Kasey.

“That’s a problem for another day,” I say.

“I have a few ideas,” he says, and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

It’s a short drive to the hospital, but I still speed the whole way.

The sooner we’re done here, the sooner I get back to my girl.

When we arrive, James and I maneuver through the halls, following a nurse to Ford’s room. We come to one of the many sterile suites, and she offers a respectful nod before leaving.

A weeklong coma has left Ford looking like little more than skin and bones. His eyes are sunken, his skin translucent, and he can barely sit up. The doctor said it’ll be another week before he can get out of bed by himself, and he looks like it.

Although right now, his eyes are wild as he stares at the laptop in front of him.

“Where did you get that?” I ask, snatching it from him. “You’re not working until you’re cleared. Are you insane?”

He gives me a look that makes me think he is.

“Wait,” he says in a dry voice, reaching for the laptop but wincing before he can get it.

“Woah, careful,” James says, stepping toward Ford with placating hands. “What is wrong with you?”

“Music,” Ford says with a strained breath. “Put some music on.”

James and I share a look.

“Maybe I should go find the doctor,” I offer.

“Don’t.” Ford takes a deep breath and lowers his voice to a whisper. “She could be listening.”

Any confusion turns to wariness.

Ford’s not an eccentric person. He’s not irrational or unreasonable. He doesn’t entertain hysterics.

So, even now, when he’s hopped up on pain medication after a week in a coma, I go with my gut and trust him.

I nod to James, who pulls out his phone and plays a classical song—an Italian aria our mother used to play around the manor. The music fills the room, and we crowd closer to Ford.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Kasey,” Ford says. “She’s one of the traitors.”

My entire life, my only priority has been my family. What I want has never mattered—if it was best for the family, it’s what I did.

But right now?

I want to strangle Ford with my bare hands for even thinking the accusation.

James must see this because he steps forward, just barely putting his body between mine and Ford’s.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“I heard something after I was shot. It didn’t make sense when you told me that Brandon tried to assault Kasey, so I assumed my brain made it up. But it didn’t.”

“What did you hear?”

Ford looks me dead in the eye. “Brandon called Kasey a traitor. He told her she’d be found out and that you’d kill her.”

My laugh is a hollow sound. “You’re trusting the accusation of the man who tried to sexually assault her?”

“I don’t think he did,” Ford says.

“Why?” James asks.

“For starters, the door had a window. If he wanted to assault her, he wouldn’t do it where anyone could walk by and see.”

“Let’s assume he wasn’t doing much thinking,” I say through gritted teeth.

Ford nods. “And I was. But when I looked through that window, it seemed like he was trying to talk to her.”

“If all you have is speculation, then I think it’s best if you get back to resting,” James states in an easy tone that doesn’t fit the anger burning me from the inside out.

No amount of deep breaths is going to calm me right now.

“They aren’t speculations. Not anymore,” Ford says, and nods to the laptop still dangling in my hand.

I give it to him, my chest constricting as I do.

“I only tell you all that to explain why I did this.”

“What exactly is this ?” James asks.

“If I’m right, and Brandon was trying to get me away long enough to talk to Kasey, it would imply they had some sort of connection to each other. So, I started looking.”

James visibly swallows. “And you found one?”

Ford nods, his face a blank mask.

“No,” I say, with a shake of my head.

A vise grips my chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe, and white-hot dread pulses through my veins.

“You’re lying,” I bite out, glaring at Ford. “You’ve been jealous of Kasey since she got here. I don’t take these accusations lightly.”

“Mr. Consoli, I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t know this for certain.”

James places a hand on my shoulder. “What did you find, Ford?”

He turns the screen toward James and me—bank statements, by the look of it. He points to one that reads Cam .

“There’s a transaction from Brandon to Kasey three years ago. I couldn’t find details of what exactly he paid for, but I was able to locate this.” He pulls up a memo. “She must have given him a test like ours, and these are the messages from that interaction.”

I read over the memo.

Cam: Do you give up?

Brandon: Yes. Now, turn my power back on.

Cam: Tell me what you want.

Brandon: I need you to create a program.

Cam: Have you considered YouTube tutorials?

Brandon: Cut the crap. Can you do it?

Cam: “Create a program” doesn’t actually explain anything. Try again.

Brandon: I need a program that can act as an incognito channel of communication. Completely hidden within a database unless someone knows exactly where to look.

Cam: And why would the CPD need something like that?

Brandon: Its intended use is none of your concern. Will you do it or not?

Cam: I’ll be in touch.

“Where did you find this?” I ask with a shaky breath.

“It’s a screenshot I pulled from Brandon’s personal hard drive. My guess is he sent it to Mason to confirm they’d found someone to do the job.”

For a moment, everything goes hazy.

I can’t feel breath coming in or out of my lungs. My fingers and toes tingle, and my vision blurs. I have no memory of James grabbing my shoulders, but suddenly, I’m staring into his uneasy gaze.

“Logan, are you okay?” I hear him ask through the fog.

“She lied,” I whisper, and saying the words out loud snaps me back to reality.

Back to being the Consoli boss.

Back to being someone who is respected, revered, and feared .

“We don’t know all of the details,” James says diplomatically, but I know by his expression that he doesn’t mean it.

“What’s there to know?” I say with a manic laugh. “Kasey made the comms program. She lied about the attack and probably everything else she has ever said.”

The realization hits me.

“And she’s probably deleting the evidence as we speak,” I say.

James calls my name, but I’m already racing down the hallway with my phone in hand. I call Damon first, but he doesn’t answer. After going to voicemail a second time, I call Kasey— three times .

They each go to voicemail.

I’m sweating when I reach the car, and it’s not from the strain.

“Logan, stop!” James calls out to me.

With one hand on the car door, I turn to him.

“What are you going to do?”

The question is simple—the answer is not.

I want to yell at Kasey. I want to pin her down and demand answers. I want to hear her logical explanations. I want this entire thing to be a misunderstanding. I want to take her home and hold her in my arms as she falls asleep.

I want to tell her that I love her.

But this isn’t about what I want.

It never should’ve been about what I wanted.

All that matters is what this family needs.

“Whatever it takes,” I tell him. “Have Ford send out an alert at the base to seize Kasey immediately and have him use the new security system to shut the entire base down. I want a digital blackout.”

James nods, and his grim expression stays in place as he runs back to Ford’s room.

I barely remember the drive to the base.

All I can do is replay every conversation Kasey and I have ever had.

Was it all a lie?

I’m minutes from the base when my phone rings.

“What?”

“It’s gone,” James says in a tone devoid of emotion.

“What’s gone?”

“Ford can monitor his computer at the base. Kasey was in the program, Logan. She deleted everything as he cut the power.”

No. No .

At least, as a liar, I could understand what Kasey did. I could assume she didn’t know what she was doing three years ago. I could move past this.

But she just made her loyalties clear.

And I’ve already decided the fate of those who aligned with Mason.

“I’ll deal with it,” I say in a voice I don’t recognize, and hang up.

Kasey made the program that my brother used to communicate with every traitor in the family.

She deleted all the evidence that would’ve caught those traitors.

She took this job to clean up her mess.

She made me think everything we had was real.

She’s been playing me all along.

I pull into the garage in record time, and the car is barely in park before I’m running to Ford’s office.

When my phone rings again, I’m ready to rip James a new one, but it isn’t his name that flashes on the screen.

My chest heaving, sweat rolling down my face, and fury simmering over every inch of my body, I answer her call.

“I can explain,” she says.

I loathe myself for relishing her voice, low and shaky as it is.

“Where are you?”

“You have to let me explain, Logan.”

“You have to tell me where you are .”

“Only if you promise to listen to me,” she pleads, desperation dripping from each word.

“You have exactly five seconds to tell me where you are before I order my soldiers to shoot on sight.”

Kasey pulls in a shuddering breath, and her voice echoes the slightest bit as she says, “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”

She ends the call, but that echo could’ve only come from one place.

I run back to the garage, but when I go to wrench the handle open, the iron door is unmoving.

It’s a digital lock .

The fact that she was able to override it while the base is in lockdown only enhances the hatred spreading into every place I let my affection for her reach.

I look through the book-sized window in the door, and a flash of blonde catches my eye before I pull out my gun and shoot out the window. Kasey’s scream echoes off the walls as she turns, freezing in place when she sees me.

She’s only a few yards away, watching me from over the cars between us. I don’t have a clear shot at her, and she knows it.

“Open this door,” I order.

Her expression is conflicted—both afraid and pained. I think I see the glistening of a tear running down her cheek, but I can’t be sure.

And I don’t care.

“I can explain,” she repeats.

“You made the comms program.”

“Yes, but—”

“You lied about the attack.”

“Logan—”

“You deleted the evidence I hired you to find.”

“That wasn’t—” She shakes her head. “Logan, if you’ll calm down, I can—”

“I watched my own brother get blown up and didn’t bat an eye. Do you really think I’ll hesitate to put a bullet in your head just because I let you into my bed?”

She steps back like my words are a physical blow.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers. “Logan, I love—”

“Run, Kasey. Run as fast and as far as you can, because when I find you, I am going to kill you.”

She studies me for exactly three seconds before she realizes I’m telling the truth.

And that moment is enough to break something inside me.

I will never let someone as close to me as I let Kasey. I will never let my guard down with someone else. I will never show vulnerability again.

I will never recover from this.

I soak in the image of her—tear-streaked and anguished—as she turns away and disappears through the garage, taking the last of my humanity with her.