Page 46 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

Where’s the hot-headed, egotistical bastard? The one who fought my every word. The one who rose to every challenge and played every game. The one who left savage marks across my throat just because he could. The one who was ready to go on a killing spree after I was attacked.

The one who nursed me back to health. The one who held me through the night. The one who asked me to stay with him. The one who I could swear fell in love with me.

The way I fell in love with him.

The different sides of Logan Consoli give me whiplash, but this version of him scares me.

I can hate Logan.

I can love Logan.

But I don’t know what to do with this detached, tired, utterly apathetic Logan.

He should be glaring or smiling at me, yelling in my face or whispering in my ear, pinning me against the wall or sending me suggestive winks from across the room.

He should be fighting me, then wanting me.

But Logan’s solemnity is all I see as he lets out a long breath, nods once, and retreats to his room.

My stomach drops with something like disappointment, but I reject it and go into my room, locking the door behind me.

What’s there to be disappointed about? We had dinner—a far more civilized interaction than I ever thought Logan and I would have again.

It was pleasant enough, but it didn’t change anything.

So, why am I thinking about what his lips would feel like on mine?

Soft yet firm, as he takes what he wants while giving me so much of himself.

The way his hands would trap my body against his like he’d weld us together if he could.

How he’d nibble against my neck until I was covered in his marks, and my fingers would clutch his hair, holding him as close as I could.

My chest clenches, and my breath shallows—just like every other time I’ve failed to force those thoughts away.

Falling into the memories is dangerous.

Especially when there’s only one door separating us now.

I don’t realize I’m standing in front of it until my hand hovers over the knob.

What would I do if I opened it, anyway? It’s not like he’s actually going to kiss me.

And yet, I reach for the knob.

The hotel phone rings, and I jump. I’d been so mesmerized by the door that the sudden intrusion is a bucket of freezing water poured over my head.

I have half a mind to ignore it, but—as if needing to prove to myself that I don’t want to go see Logan—I pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“You’re getting awfully comfortable with the man who spent months trying to kill you.”

I blink, replaying the words a million times in half a second.

The voice is low, undoubtedly a man’s, and I do not recognize it.

“Who is this?”

“Someone with an interest in the list you’re recovering for the Consolis.”

My stomach twists into tight knots, and I wish I’d ignored the call and gone into Logan’s room after all.

My hands grow clammy around the phone as I say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m not interested in empty threats from someone who’s too afraid to tell me who they are,” I tell him. “I’m hanging up now.”

I pull the phone from my ear, but not before hearing his next words.

“You want to know who I am?” His voice takes on a patronizing edge. “I’m someone who knows exactly where you were when Consoli burned that motel to the ground.”

No. No .

There’s no way he knows about that. No one knows about that.

Slowly, like knowingly walking to the gallows, I bring the phone back to my ear. I can’t stop myself from turning to stare at the door that leads to Logan’s room. Just like that day with Brandon, all I want is for him to burst in here and save me.

Back then, I didn’t know what Brandon was talking about.

I know exactly what this man is implying.

And not even Logan can save me.

My lack of a response must amuse him because that same cold laugh comes again. “Do I have your attention?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I manage, but the words sound strangled.

I can’t breathe.

“Are you willing to risk that?”

No. No, I am not.

“What do you want?” I ask instead, but the answer is glaringly obvious.

“To get that list before Consoli does. Do that for me, and I’ll ensure no one ever finds out your little secret.”

I’m shaking. When did I start shaking?

“Why?”

“That’s none of your concern. But if you give Consoli that list, then I’ll tell everyone your secret, and you’ll spend the rest of your life on the run from almost every family in the country.

Or you can give the list to me, and I’ll support you for the rest of your life.

I can protect you from the men who hunted you down and made your life hell. ”

I know his words are empty promises, but I can’t openly reject him.

Not when he has this on me.

“I don’t even know who you are,” I whisper. “I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to.”

Which I don’t.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be in touch by the end of the week,” he says. “But, Kasey, you should know that if you tell anyone about this or try to run without giving me what I want, there’s no place on earth you can hide from me.”

The call goes dead, and the tears stream down my face so hard I’m not sure they’ll ever stop.