Page 41 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Kasey

Logan’s phone rings, breaking the silence in the car on our way to the base.

With a quick glance, he declines Elise’s call.

I wish he hadn’t, not because I want to hear from the over-friendly Consoli, but because the default silence is unbearable. Though I’ll take the silence over any questions about the past four months.

Logan has taken too much from me as it is.

I’m not giving him that too.

Yesterday was my first day back at the base, and it was extraordinarily dull.

Logan didn’t try to talk to me on our drive to the base, and Damon was waiting to walk me to Ford’s office by the time we stepped out of the elevator. The brothers barely acknowledged each other before we went our separate ways.

I received several odd looks walking the halls with Damon, but no one spoke to me. Damon told me the memo about my return went out first thing that morning. With no time between the announcement and my appearance at the base, I suppose odd looks were a decent response.

Only when my eyes were dry from staring at a screen all day did I let Damon take me back to the hotel. Logan had been waiting outside our doors when I reached our floor, but only to tell me to be ready to leave by seven.

Logan’s phone rings in the car again.

He declines it again.

“You know I can’t hurt her over the phone,” I say.

“I already know what she wants.”

I lift an eyebrow, and he sighs. “She wants to come into town now that you’re back.”

“And you told her no,” I fill in.

I’m not sure how I feel about the prospect of seeing Elise again or the fact that she wants to see me. We only met once, and while I didn’t hate her the most out of her family members, we didn’t exactly click either.

But since she didn’t kidnap or interrogate me, she’s my favorite Consoli now.

It’s a low bar these days.

“I haven’t told her anything. I’ve been dodging her calls since Damon talked to Moreno yesterday.”

I definitely have no interest in seeing Moreno again. That bastard never liked me and wasn’t quiet about it, either.

“What exactly did Damon tell them?”

“That you’re back and helping us,” he says tonelessly.

I scoff.

“You prefer an alternative explanation?”

“I sure as hell didn’t just show up ,” I snap.

His quick retort doesn’t come, and I think he’s going to ignore me, but after several seconds, he says, “They don’t need to know the details of your return. We filled them in on what actually happened when you left and told them we have a new deal now.”

“Why?”

“Because they were going to find out anyway—”

“Why aren’t you telling them how I came back?”

I know the answer I’m looking for—an acknowledgment that he regrets the way he handled things. An apology .

“It’s none of their business,” he says instead.

I suppose I should be glad he didn’t tell them everything. The fewer people who know how helpless I’d been, the better.

There is no position that could make you weak, beautiful. Especially with me.

I have no idea where the memory comes from, but I hear Logan’s voice as clearly as the day he held me in my bed.

I’m sure he meant it back then, but it isn’t true anymore.

Logan’s hate-filled expression—staring down at me while I knelt at Mark’s side, covered in blood—is burned into my head.

He made sure I knew how weak I was.

I let silence reclaim the car and stare out the window.

I hoped the discomfort of returning to the base would wane after yesterday, but it hasn’t.

Not even a little bit.

Being back here reminds me of every horrible feeling from the day I left. It was only a few months ago that I walked through these halls every day, but it feels like a different lifetime.

I’m itching to get away from here as soon as possible.

I refuse to take so much as a lunch break, but it’s worth it.

I’ve made a lot of progress. I spent all of yesterday installing the Seeker and tailoring it to the Consoli database.

It took longer than I would’ve liked since I had to bypass my own security measures, but it means that today I can start running tests to find the rest of the bugs that need to be worked out.

Maybe I’ll be out of here before the weekend.

Damon lounges on the couch, but instead of taking a nap like he used to, he works diligently on his laptop for the second day in a row, and I hate that I’m genuinely curious about what he’s doing. It’s a reminder that I used to care, and I have to remind myself that I don’t anymore.

Ford is another story entirely.

His fondness for me has not grown in my absence.

Unlike Damon, Ford makes a point of keeping an eye on my screen. I’m sure it was a direct order from Logan, but it pisses me off. Not only is it suffocating, but it also prevents me from looking into how the Consolis found me.

I planned on scouring every file and avenue of correspondence between the Consolis and Morenos for any clue as to how they found me, but I can’t with Ford watching my every move. I’m sure he’s itching for an excuse to tell Logan I’m not doing my part.

I intend to uphold my end of the bargain, but I don’t trust Logan to uphold his.

I don’t even think it would be out of malice, but convenience. If the Consolis ever need a job like this done again, they’ll want to call me. It wouldn’t surprise me if they keep tabs on me when I leave, and I’m not willing to let that happen.

When I leave here, it’s going to be for good.

But that isn’t going to be possible with Ford hovering every second I work.

As much as I dislike the cybersecurity capo, seeing Ford alive and well is comforting.

The last time I saw him, my blood-soaked hands were shaking as I put pressure on his gunshot wound in Detroit.

It’s an image I still have nightmares about—that is, when I’m lucky enough to have nightmares.

“You ready to wrap it up?” Damon asks, closing his laptop and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah, in”—I check the time—“four hours.”

His eyebrows draw together for only a moment before his face settles in an exasperated realization. “Logan didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what ?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Damon mutters, then sighs. “Logan and James have to go to a reception tonight for an ally family.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

Something about my snarky tone must amuse him because he smiles as he shakes his head.

“Logan doesn’t want you here unless he’s here, too.”

“That was nowhere in our deal.”

“It’s the order I was given.”

“Sounds like your problem, then.”

“I think you’ll feel differently when we get to the manor.”

“I’m not going to the manor,” I snap, the finality in my tone cutting through the room.

Ford mutters to himself, too low for us to hear, so Damon and I ignore him.

Damon lifts placating hands. “You’re not staying the night, but Logan figured you’d want to spend a few hours with Kane while he and James are gone.”

I open my mouth and immediately close it again.

I hate that manor, but I love my dog, and one night with him was not enough.

“And before you get all defensive about me babysitting , I have work to do, so I’ll be in my office all night,” he says. “You’ll be alone, just the way you like it.”

I had been about to comment on his babysitting.

I cross my arms over my chest. “So you get to work, but I don’t?”

He shrugs. “I’m not in charge, Goldie.”

Logan knew about these plans and didn’t tell me. He knew I wouldn’t want to leave the base until I’d done as much as possible in one day, so he left it to Damon to tell me.

Every time I think I can’t hate Logan more, he surprises me.

True to his word, Damon stays in his office the whole night, with the exception of making us dinner—a seared steak he proudly told me Elise taught him how to make.

I spend the evening sitting in the living room with Kane curled into my side on the couch. A mindless sitcom plays on the TV, but I barely pay attention.

Even with Logan out of the manor, I can’t shake the feeling that disaster is about to strike. I’m on edge all night, so after a few hours, when Damon asks if I’m ready to return to the hotel, I tell him I am.

He turns on a nineties station and taps his finger on the steering wheel to the beat. He’s so relaxed and unbothered—even as I’ve been short with him all day.

Damon isn’t innocent, but I don’t think he ever meant me any harm, and he certainly isn’t malicious toward me now. It’s the only reason I offer him a sliver of goodwill.

“You wouldn’t let me stay in Ford’s office.”

“What?” he asks, turning the music down.

“You wouldn’t let me stay in Ford’s office to work on getting the names,” I tell him. “I needed you out of the way long enough to get them before Logan and James found out I lied—that’s why I locked you in the bathroom.”

Damon does a poor job of hiding his smile. “I know, Goldie.”

“Then why did you keep badgering me about it?” I snap.

“To find that ,” he says with a growing smile. “I was worried we lost you there.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He glances at me with a warm glint in his green eyes. “Quiet doesn’t suit you. I hoped I could annoy you into getting some of that attitude back.”

“I didn’t have much choice,” I remind him.

“Maybe not. But then you broke that plate, and I was a lot less concerned.”

“You were less concerned when I held jagged glass to your brother’s throat?”

Damon’s brow furrows. “Do you really think he couldn’t have stopped you?”

“If he could, he wouldn’t have a gash in his arm.”

He shrugs.

I study Damon as he focuses on driving, looking for any indication of what might be happening inside his head. I still can’t tell if his mask is just that good or if there’s simply nothing nefarious on his mind.

With Damon, the only way to know for sure is to ask.

“Why do you care if I have my attitude or not?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and when he does, it’s with a distant, almost reminiscent smile. “I know better than anyone that Logan isn’t good at second chances. Or third, or fourth, for that matter.”

Damon’s relationship with Logan is something I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand.

He parks the car in front of the hotel, waves goodbye, and watches me walk inside before driving off.

I can sense Logan the second I set foot in the lobby.

It’s pathetic, really.

He sits at the hotel bar, nursing a whiskey and staring at nothing in particular. Anyone else might look awkward sitting alone, but Logan never looks out of place. He doesn’t need to mess with his phone or watch whatever sports game is playing on the TV.

Logan is perfectly comfortable in everything he does.

He’s traded his usual suit for a black tuxedo. His hair looks like it was slicked back earlier in the night but has since lost its form, and his long necktie is slung over his shoulders. It’s a messy, worn look that he pulls off effortlessly.

And I hate that I am still so attracted to him.

Then, as if he can sense me too, Logan turns his head to look at me.

His face is unreadable, but when he leans back to reveal the second whiskey glass beside him, the message is clear.

And I want to go.

He wouldn’t push for conversation or try to touch me.

We’d just sit in silence and drink—and I would kill for one right now.

But I can’t.

If my forgiveness is what Logan is after, he can start by asking for it. Saying white flag and silently offering me a drink isn’t going to cut it.

But really, it doesn’t matter what he does.

I will never forgive him.