Page 40 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

A car horn blares, snapping me back to the present. I clench the steering wheel, forcing myself to focus on the road instead of the memories that haunt me. The past is inescapable. All I can do now is move forward.

Thick silence chokes me with more emotion than I knew I had the capacity for.

Dread. Guilt. Regret.

Feelings I’ve never given thought to before are suddenly smothering me, and every second the silence goes on, it gets harder to breathe.

“Where were you?” I ask, needing anything to distract me.

She stiffens in her seat, but doesn’t say a word.

“You weren’t in Payson for four months,” I say. “Where did you spend the rest of the time?”

She scoffs, shaking her head and leaning back, but my eyes fall to her hands, where she picks at her nails.

I’ve never seen her do that before.

“You’re really going to ignore me?” I ask, studying her for any other physical reactions.

“You didn’t mind my silence yesterday,” she mutters.

Wrong.

I hated her silence—even as I threatened her life for it.

I pull into a parking spot at the hotel James picked. It’s less than a ten-minute drive to the base and has several exits if we need to make a run for it.

“Well, I mind it now,” I say, watching her hands.

“Too bad.”

Something about her reaction is nagging at me, so I push again. “Where did you—”

“When I said you’re past the point of forgiveness, I wasn’t only talking about the last twenty-four hours. Questions about while I was gone are off the table ,” she says, then opens the door to climb out of the car.

So, something else happened while she was gone. Is it possible that her apathy isn’t only because of me?

Her adamance makes me want to push, but I know it won’t get me anything—except maybe another gash in my arm.

I check us into the hotel with strict instructions for the staff to forgo daily cleanings, then give Kasey her key card.

“Second floor. You’re 216, I’m 218.”

“They didn’t have anything further away from you?”

I shrug. “I’d rather keep you close.”

She ignores me and leads the way to our rooms.

I strategically put myself in the room closer to the elevator. I’m not worried about her trying to run, but if something were to happen, I’d rather be closer to the threat.

We stop at our respective doors.

“We’ll meet here at seven tomorrow. Come get me if you need anything,” I tell her.

Kasey slides the key in the lock, flips me off, then slams the door behind her.

I give up on sleep at five in the morning.

Replaying the entirety of four months isn’t the most efficient use of my time, but it’s all my brain was willing to do last night.

I’m careful to only consider the facts as they are and nothing else.

No feelings. No regrets. No what-ifs.

I mentally retrace each of our steps. Her actions—while I may disagree with them—fit the circumstances and the logic I’d expect Kasey to follow based on what I know about her.

And that’s as much of a conclusion as I draw before my brain repeats the drill.

My father ensured that I was capable of operating on minimal sleep, so one night without won’t have much effect, especially after a cup of coffee.

I have two hours before I told Kasey we’d be leaving, and I’m itching to use the hotel gym to work off the restlessness, but I can’t. Without soldiers to keep an eye on her room, I won’t be going anywhere.

I spend the time reviewing emails, which I tried and failed to do on the flight home. All I could do was watch Kasey look out the window.

I answer my phone when it rings, needing anything to occupy my mind.

It’s too late when I see the caller ID and realize I should’ve let it go to voicemail.

“Consoli.”

The sweet, feminine voice is gentle—as soothing as a lullaby. “Good morning, Mr. Consoli. How are you?”

I take a deep breath and force myself to remember she’s only doing what she was raised to do.

“I’m fine, Isabella. Can I help you with something?”

I have to give her credit for not wavering despite my apparent lack of interest.

“What time should my father expect you tomorrow? He’d like the other family bosses to be ready for your arrival.”

Tomorrow?

The opening of a hospital wing dedicated to Giovanni Romano.

I completely forgot.

“Since when do you handle your father’s correspondence?”

“Since it’s an excuse to call you,” she says, balancing the coy and confidence with perfect ease.

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure I can make it after all. James meant to reach out yesterday. Some urgent family business came up that requires my full attention.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay,” she says, perfectly sympathetic. “The family comes first.”

Her acceptance—her willingness to please me—would be pathetic if I didn’t know her whole life has centered around preparing to be my wife.

If anything, I feel bad for the girl. She didn’t sign up for this, but she’s fulfilling her duty anyway, even when that means waiting around for the scraps of attention I throw her way.

When I met with Romano to discuss a proposal, he was ready to set the wedding date, but I made it very clear that I would be courting his daughter before any proposal would be made.

I may be resigned to my fate, but I’ll be going about it my way.

Just because I don’t intend to have a traditional marriage doesn’t mean I won’t know the woman I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.

So far, there isn’t much to know.

I’ve attended a few functions with Isabella, and—while the tan-skinned, dark-haired beauty looks nice on my arm—the conversation is less than captivating.

She rides horses, plays the violin, and works on the board of half a dozen charities in the city, but it doesn’t seem like she’s particularly passionate about anything.

It’s just what she’s been programmed to do.

I look at the doors that separate my room from Kasey’s.

Mine is wide open.

Hers is locked.

“I’ll make it up to you,” I tell Isabella in a marginally softer tone.

“How about you start with dinner?” she asks, and I can sense her nervousness in the request.

She was bound to ask sooner or later.

“Of course. I’ll have James reach out to put it on the calendar. Have a good day, Isabella.”

“Thank you, Mr. Consoli. You as well.”

When I hang up, my phone buzzes with an incoming message.

James: Walking in now.

The knock comes just as I put my phone away and open the door for him.

“What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the base.”

“I figured you’d need this,” he says, holding out a cup of coffee. “And that you’d want to be the first to know we have a lead on the note.”

I take the coffee. “Already?”

He nods. “It was printed on handmade marble paper, which can’t be mass-produced, but one paper supply website sells this particular pattern fairly regularly. It’s a long shot, but I’m working on getting a client list.”

Sounds like a wild goose chase to me, but it’s the most we have to go on.

“And that couldn’t have waited until I was at the base?”

James sits in the desk chair and nods toward the doors separating my room from Kasey’s. “I was also wondering what you plan to tell her when she gives us the list.”

“At this rate, we might be able to give her the truth.”

“Well, as of right now, the truth is: we have no idea. She agreed to help us because she thinks we have a way of tracking her. How do you think she’s going to react when she learns that we don’t?”

“Does it seem like I’ve got anything figured out?” I ask, running a hand through my hair. “We’ll keep tracking this note and go from there.”

He nods. “How were things when you guys got here last night?”

“If you’re asking if there were more acts of physical violence, the answer is no. But I think she’s hiding something.”

“Like what?”

“I asked her about the time she was gone—where she went aside from Payson—and she got fidgety.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t just her being mad at you?”

“I’m well acquainted with Kasey’s anger. This was different.”

“She wasn’t exactly on vacation for four months. Could be that she doesn’t want to relive it.”

“Maybe,” I say. “But she made it clear that talking about it is off-limits, so I probably won’t find out either way.”

And I hate how much that bothers me.

“What time are we leaving the base to get ready for the reception tomorrow? I may need to rearrange a few meetings.”

“I already let Isabella know we aren’t coming.”

He straightens in the seat. “When did you talk to Isabella?”

“She called this morning,” I say, studying his tight expression. “Is that a problem?”

James shakes his head. “For me, no. For Romano, maybe.”

“And for me?”

He gives me a knowing look. “He’s going to hear that Kasey is back, and when you don’t show up tomorrow, he’s going to get the wrong idea.”

“I don’t care what idea he gets. I’ve been courting his daughter for months, which is exactly what he wanted.”

“What he wanted was a proposal,” James says, studying me closely before adding, “And last time we talked, you said it would be next weekend.”

“And?”

“Do I have to tiptoe around the obvious, or can we admit that you were in love with Kasey, and now that she’s back, it might complicate your impending engagement?”

My chest tightens, and the familiar heat burns my skin.

“I don’t see why Kasey’s return should change anything.”

“Then why did you cancel?”

I don’t say anything.

James stands. “I’m not going to make you go tomorrow, but I’m also not going to let you lie to yourself about why you’re not going.”

As much as I hate it, it would be ignorant of me to ignore his counsel when I’ve already proven that my head isn’t on straight when it comes to Kasey. He’s trying to ground me in reality.

There will be a time when Kasey is gone—for good—and I’ll still have a duty to this family.

“I’ll call Isabella and let her know we’ll be there. We can leave the base at three tomorrow. That’ll give us plenty of time to get ready.”

“ I’ll call Isabella,” he offers, and I nod, not particularly eager to talk to my future wife more than I have to. “What are you going to do about Kasey?”

“Is Damon going to the reception?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

I consider my options and choose the one that will make Kasey hate me the least.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” I tell him.

“There’s one more thing,” James says with a grimace.

“What?”

Just then, my phone rings and Elise’s name lights up the screen.

“Damon called Moreno this morning to fill him in.”