Page 43 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Kasey

“Can you back off?” I snap.

It’s the first thing I’ve said since walking into Ford’s office this morning, but I can’t take it anymore.

He sits next to me, but he might as well be on my lap for all his hovering.

At first, it was just irritating, but after enduring it for days, I’m over it.

“I’m doing my job, which is ensuring you do yours.”

I have no idea where Damon is today, but I wish he were here now. He’d tell Ford to give me space, and without him here, it’s downright smothering.

“I’m doing my job just fine, but your leering is weird and distracting.”

“Not my problem.”

“I can make it your problem.”

He leans back in his chair. “Be my guest. You step a toe out of line, and Consoli throws you to the curb.”

“Will he?” I tilt my head to the side with a patronizing smile. “Because if you could have pulled off this job, he never would’ve hired me in the first place.”

I break through his blank expression, and hatred twists his features.

I don’t dislike Ford—my only issue with him is the way he treats me. I stayed civil before, but I have no reason to play nice now.

Can’t make things worse.

Ford sets his laptop down. “What a coincidence that you’re able to find your own program and recover it after four months. Seems awfully convenient if you ask me.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say. “If I wanted to help Mason, I never would’ve made the recovery software in the first place.”

“Could’ve been a backup plan in case you were found, which you were.”

“If I worked for Mason, I wouldn’t have killed Brandon,” I say, pushing the words out despite their wanting to get caught in my throat.

Ford sits up straight, but he doesn’t snap back right away.

In all the time I’ve been back, we haven’t talked about that day.

“You think that changes anything? That I owe you?”

“I think you should consider that I actually told the truth about what happened and why I’m back.”

“Why did you make the Seeker?” he asks, expression calculating.

I cross my arms over my stomach, which twists at the question. My throat suddenly feels thick, and I want nothing more than to be back in the safety of my hotel room.

But I’m not, so I match his question instead.

“Who told Logan I made it?”

Like my question was the answer he was expecting, his face takes on a satisfactory edge.

“Guess neither of us is getting the answers we want,” he says, glancing at his laptop.

Ford pulls out his phone and holds it between his ear and shoulder as he types.

“James,” he greets. “I have it. I’ll go see Mr. Consoli as soon as you get here.”

While Ford hasn’t kept his eyes off my work, I have no idea what he’s been up to this whole time, and though I figure it’s nothing more than desk work, I’m still curious.

I get back to work, and Ford busies himself, printing whatever he’s been working on. He takes the few papers and stands by the door.

“For the record,” he says in a tone just above a whisper, “I am grateful you saved my life, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

I turn in my chair, and the look on Ford’s face is the most human I’ve seen yet. It’s not warm by any means, but it’s the first time I think he might not feel pure hatred for me.

“I didn’t do it for your gratitude or trust. I did it because I wasn’t going to let that bastard kill either of us.”

He nods and reaches for the door handle.

“Ford,” I call, and he pauses. “Why did you stop him?”

“What?”

“You were only shot because you came in to save me, but I can’t figure out why you did. Would’ve saved you a lot of trouble to just let Brandon attack me.”

Ford’s expression cracks, revealing a surprisingly open confusion. “You’re asking why I didn’t stand by and let him hurt you?”

I give him a knowing look. “Let’s not pretend you’d go into mourning at the news of my untimely death.”

He shakes his head, a shadow of a humorless smile touching his lips. “Unfortunately, you’re wrong.”

My stunned expression pulls a dry laugh from Ford.

“Am I supposed to understand what that means?” I ask.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” he mutters, but after a long, deep breath, Ford drops his shoulders, and a look of resignation settles over his features. “I know you think my reason for not liking you is rooted in sexism, but it isn’t.”

“Matteo told me I wasn’t on your list of candidates for Logan. You were mad he ignored your recommendations.”

“That was frustrating, sure, but Mr. Consoli is the boss. He can do whatever the hell he wants. It’s not my job to make decisions for the family.”

“Then, why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, Kasey. I’m—” He runs a hand down his face, which suddenly flushes red.

“There isn’t a cybersecurity specialist who doesn’t idolize and imitate Cam’s work—myself included.

Then I got the chance to actually meet the legendary hacker, expecting a middle-aged, ex-government cyber intelligence expert, only to realize you were seventeen when I started following your work five years ago. ”

The implication of his confession hits me in full force.

Ford doesn’t like me because he’s—

“You can call it jealousy if you want,” Ford says with an uncaring shrug. “But I prefer to say it was disappointment. Regardless, meeting you was… humbling. So, while I don’t like you and think you have the most unbearable personality of anyone I’ve ever met, I do not hate you.”

The confession leaves my head spinning, and I have the urge to rest it against the table, though I suspect I’d fall asleep if I did.

While I technically slept, I didn’t get much rest last night. It was like the darkest days of my time on the run, when sleep was abundant but far from restful. I don’t remember the last time I made it through a night without torturous visions tainting my sleep.

I suspect it was before I ran.

The cup of coffee I ordered this morning sits half-empty beside me. Even exhausted, I can barely choke the stuff down.

The door opens, and James steps inside. Whatever minimal emotion Ford showed is masked by his usual blank indifference. He nods to me once before leaving, as if he didn’t just admit to spending years idolizing my work.

It strikes me as soon as the door is closed that I’ve fallen into the exact situation I’ve been waiting for. James will have no idea what I’m doing, and I can finally investigate how Logan found me.

I start by searching Logan’s emails, then James’s and Damon’s, but I don’t find anything. I pull up all base communications, but don’t find anything there either. I’m about to search Moreno’s database when a prickling sensation creeps up my neck.

“Am I supposed to ask why you’re staring?” I ask. “Or was I not supposed to notice?”

“I rarely expect you to do what you’re supposed to.”

“I bet you’re all on your toes wondering how I’m going to terrorize you next.”

“Not exactly,” he says. “But I’d be lying if I said you posed no interest to me.”

“I’d be lying if I said you posed any interest to me.”

James’s laugh is short. “Maybe the difference between us is that I don’t stop at research when it comes to getting to know someone.”

That gets my attention, and I turn to face him with a blank expression.

“The difference between us is that you didn’t spend months on the run from your bone-headed, bloodthirsty family.”

“No, I didn’t.” When he smiles, it strikes me just how alike he is to his twin. These Consoli boys have a way of constantly appearing unbothered by what’s happening around them.

James, however, doesn’t exude that confidence for the same reasons his brothers do.

Logan’s assurance comes from the knowledge that his power is great enough to stand against anyone who may come against him. Damon’s past has given him the ultimate it couldn’t be worse than… attitude as a way to cope with anything thrown at him.

For James, it’s neither of those things, and while I can’t exactly pinpoint what drives him, I know he’s right about one thing.

I won’t find it in any amount of research.

“But I never hunted you down either,” he finishes.

“Right. You sent soldiers to do your dirty work.”

“Believe it or not, I had more important things to worry about than you.”

“More important than following Logan’s orders? I wasn’t aware you could do such a thing.”

James rolls his eyes and pushes away from where he leans against the wall to take a seat on the couch.

“Plenty of things are more important to me than following my brother’s orders.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Gladly, if you’re willing to do the same.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “What kind of game are you playing?”

“No game. A trade—question for a question.”

“I’ve already told you my side of the story. I’m not subjecting myself to another interrogation.”

“Then don’t answer my questions,” he says with a shrug. “But if you want any insight into what happened here during those four months, this is your shot at getting it.”

“What makes you think I don’t know everything I need to?”

James cracks a smile, nodding behind me. “Because you’re trying to figure out how we found you, and the search isn’t going very far, is it?”

That zaps the smugness from me.

“Fine,” I clip. “How did you find me?”

His smile widens. “What happened while you were gone?”

I guess we found our boundaries.

I try again, going for a different tactic. “How long ago did you figure out where I was?”

“ I found out when you were on the plane,” he says with an unreadable expression. “How long had you been living in Payson?”

He answers my question so casually that I almost miss the implication.

Logan didn’t tell James he’d found me—James, his underboss, whom he tells everything.

“Questions about what happened while I was gone are off-limits.”

“I didn’t ask about what happened. Just how long you’d been living there.”

I narrow my eyes, analyzing the question. Since I can’t come up with a particular way this could backfire, I tell him the truth.

“About two months. Why didn’t Logan tell you he’d found me?”