Page 55 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Kasey

I glance down at my phone. I have one more hour until my time is up with Damon, and that’s if he waits the full two hours.

The fact that my phone isn’t blowing up with calls from Logan means that he has so far.

I don’t even care that tears still pour down my face as I stand at the door in the hotel lobby. I earn odd looks from anyone who passes by, but no one asks what’s wrong, and I’m grateful.

Right now, I just want to be alone.

If I’m forced to confront the decision I’ve made, I might not go through with it.

And I need to go through with it.

Over the last hour, I’ve lost the anger I held for Logan not telling me about Isabella. Why would he? All I’ve done since seeing him again is tell him that I hate him and have absolutely no intentions of sticking around. He had no reason to put his family ties in jeopardy for me.

It was the sign I needed to tell me it’s time to go.

But that doesn’t stop the grief from suffocating me.

There is no future for Logan and me, and the only thing I have left to offer him is the truth.

My parting gift.

At the desk in my hotel room, I wrote Logan a letter, telling him every painful truth I’ve kept hidden. About what really happened the day the motel burned down, and why I never told him. I wrote that I found out about Isabella and that he deserves to be with someone well-suited for him.

Someone who can give him all the things that I can’t.

If my mystery caller tells Logan what they know after I’m gone, at least he’ll have my side of the story, too.

The Cadillac with blacked-out windows pulls up, and I draw in a breath as I force myself out of the hotel. I throw my bags into the trunk and climb into the backseat.

I want to get Kane, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

Dragging my sweet dog on the run with me—staying in dingy hotels, and taking buses, trains, and planes to who-knows-where—is a cruel fate to force on him, especially when he has a loving home with tons of space to run.

He’ll be happy, and I can live with that.

The driver pulls onto the road.

“The airport, please,” I say, and the words come out scratchy.

I guess I’ve been crying more than I realized.

“I’ve got something better in mind,” the driver says, and I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Mark?” I practically shout his name. “What are you—how did you find me?”

“Hey, Katie,” he says with a smile full of relief. “You have no idea how great it is to see you.”

“It’s Kasey . How did you find me?”

“It’s okay,” he assures me. “You’re safe now. The Consolis aren’t going to find you, but you do need to toss your phone.”

“I was—” I take a deep breath, sorting through my thoughts as quickly as I can.

Mark is here. He found me. He didn’t take my warning last night seriously. He thinks he’s saving me.

“How did you find me?” I repeat, threading urgency into each word.

“I’m not supposed to tell you that,” he says. “But they said they’ll explain everything when we get there.”

“Get where? Who is helping you? Mark, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Thick fear curdles in my stomach, and I realize that, once again, I’ve condemned Mark to suffer for my sake.

“I can’t tell you that either, but they’re the good guys. I promise. They came and found me after every MC in Phoenix refused to hear me out. They said they knew the Consolis, and they knew how to save you.”

“I wasn’t being heroic when I told you to drop this, Mark. I’m not a damsel in distress; I’m one of the monsters. You have no idea who these guys are.”

Mark flashes me a reassuring glance. “I know they’re in the mafia, Kasey. I’m not as clueless as you think. And you said all of that under duress. I know they made you call me and threatened my life, but they can’t touch me now.”

“Pull this car over,” I snap. “Right now.”

Mark’s brow furrows.

This is clearly not the response he was expecting.

“I didn’t believe them,” he whispers. “You are brainwashed. What did they do to you?”

“Pull. This. Car. Over.”

He shakes his head, and his face steels with a resolve that terrifies me.

“I’m not going to do that. I’m going to get you to safety whether you like it or not.”

“The people you’re working with, they aren’t the good guys here, Mark. There are no good guys. You’re just putting yourself in danger, and you don’t need to. I’m safe. I promise I’ve been safe.”

“They said you’d say that,” he mutters.

I pull my phone out and dial Logan’s number, but the call won’t go through.

Mark sighs. “They also warned me that you might call for backup.” He lifts a small black device, the size of a deck of cards.

A cell phone jammer.

“I know you’re scared, Kasey, but they can’t hurt you anymore.”

“No one has been hurting me!” I give up on staying calm. I’m full-on shouting now. “You need to pull over and let me go before it’s too late!”

“You don’t know what you’re—”

“No, you don’t know what you’re talking about! The people you’re taking me to are dangerous, and whatever they want, it isn’t my safety.”

The list.

They want the list.

I can’t believe I’m only just now putting it together.

Whoever Mark is working with is my mystery caller. They used Mark to get me, and once they have me…

“They’re going to kill you, Mark! Once you hand me over, they’re going to kill you, and they’ll kill me, too. Please— please stop this before it’s too late.”

“I’m sorry, Kasey. I promise I’m going to protect you. You just need to trust me.”

“What are you—”

A glass partition rises between us.

“Mark, don’t!” I shoot forward to stop it, but it’s too late. I slam my fist against the glass, but whatever material it is might as well be indestructible.

I do the same to the back windows, then the doors. I kick, pull, and pry at everything I can, but nothing budges. I have my gun, but I don’t trust a bullet not to ricochet and hit Mark or me.

Besides, I’ll probably need it for whatever happens next.

I continue beating the partition and pleading with Mark—all to no avail—until twenty minutes have passed and Mark pulls onto the shoulder of the road.

We’re on some state route with nothing but trees on either side of us. It was barely snowing when we left the hotel, but now thick flurries come down so hard I can barely make out the car parked ahead of us.

A white truck.

My pleas become desperate. “Please, Mark! Don’t do this! We need to get out of here! Please !”

Four figures approach the car, and my heart thrums in my chest at a concerning speed as I ready my gun and lift it to the window as they reach the car.

I expect them to come to my door and drag me out, but they don’t. They wave for Mark to come out, and while their words are mumbled, I hear Mark’s excited tone.

I hear the exact moment his excitement turns to confusion.

Then fear.

I wish the sinking feeling in my chest could drown me. At least then, I wouldn’t have to wonder what I’ll face next. And I have a feeling the empty darkness of death would be more merciful than whatever lies ahead of me right now.

I have my gun pointed at the door as it opens, with my finger trembling on the trigger. A trigger I cannot pull.

Because it’s Mark who stands in the line of fire, and the man who holds a gun to his head smiles warmly at me.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks, and I nod.

Not only do I recognize his voice as the mystery caller, but I also recognize him .

In my research before working with the Consolis, I made it a point to learn about all five of the American Mafia families: the Consolis, Morenos, Marsollos, Riveras, and Diazes.

The man in front of me is undoubtedly Emilio Diaz, the underboss of the Diaz family.

The worst, most vicious of the five.

The only family that the Consolis and Morenos refuse to work with for any reason.

“Great,” Emilio says with a beaming grin. “We can skip the introductions and get to the fun stuff. Put the gun down before I give Lover Boy his second bullet for your sake.”

His use of Logan’s nickname for Mark isn’t just a dig—it’s a warning. He knows more than he should. He’s been watching me very closely.

Somehow, I know he’s the one who told Logan where I was.

But how did he find me?

Slowly, I set the gun down.

“What do you want?” I ask, the words strangled from my crying and screaming.

I must look pathetic with bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks as I scramble for any semblance of protection. Nothing like the formidable adversary I built myself up to be.

“Do you have my list?”

I don’t answer, and he clucks his tongue in disappointment.

“Hmm, pity. Well then, onto Plan B. Get out of the car without the gun. Leave the phone, too. You won’t be needing either.”

I study Emilio’s expression, but there’s no doubt that his threats are real.

With no other option, I give a slight nod.

I unbuckle the seatbelt and slowly climb out of the car, looking up and down the road as if Logan might pull up and save me.

He won’t.

I still have another half hour until Damon tells Logan I left, but even if he knows right now, he shouldn’t come for me. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Emilio plans to use me to get the list from Logan.

But it won’t work. Whatever Logan feels for me, it’s nothing compared to the loyalty he holds for his family.

One of the soldiers shoves me against the car, binding my wrists. Emilio releases Mark, whose expression is regret and understanding in their purest form.

“I tried to tell you,” I whisper.

“I—I thought—” he chokes on a helpless exhale. “They said they’d help, Kasey. They said—”

Mark collapses when a bullet lodges itself between his eyes.

My knees give out with my scream, and Emilio—gun still pointed at Mark—covers my mouth to muffle the sound. His soldier jerks me up by my tied wrists, and my shoulders burn from the motion.

“Well, I’ll give him one thing: that boy was crazy about you,” Emilio says with a light chuckle. “I saved him a lot of heartbreak.”

I have no words. Shudders rack my body as I am dragged toward the white truck.

My instincts scream at me to do something, anything, but go willingly with these men.

But there is simply no point.

As we drive, I focus on memorizing every scenic detail, like maybe it can help me figure out where we’re going, but I’m not particularly optimistic.

As glad as I am to be able to see my surroundings, it’s not lost on me that the lack of a blindfold likely means they don’t anticipate I will be leaving wherever it is we’re going.

Every few minutes, I can feel Emilio’s eyes through the rearview mirror, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze.

I should’ve taken his threats more seriously, but the fact that he only knows half the story gave me a false sense of confidence.

If he thought he had me, he wouldn’t assume I’d run off and ignore him completely.

Even now, he believes he has an advantage, but he has absolutely nothing of importance.

On one hand, it’s the best middle finger I can imagine.

On the other hand, it means I’m on my own.

This makes twice that the Diaz family has found me when I should’ve been untraceable. None of my electronics can be tracked, and I have a dozen safety measures that would alert me if they’d been compromised.

I run the possibilities through my head, but there’s nothing feasible. I’d consider that someone in the Consoli family acted as a rat, but that wouldn’t explain how they knew my exact location, even when I was across the country.

The only remotely possible option is that someone from the Diaz family has been following my every step for months. I just can’t imagine how something like that could go on for so long without me catching on to it.

I have to be missing something.

Any hope I have of memorizing the landscape is absolutely useless. Endless trees span either side of the road, which I can barely see through the snow. I can’t remember the last time I saw a sign or another car.

Wherever they’re taking me, it’s not easily found or escaped.

When Emilio turns onto an unmarked road covered in snow, I realize how much I let myself relax in the car, knowing they wouldn’t do anything to me until we reached our destination.

But we’re here now, and I am terrified of whatever is waiting for me. I ball my hands into fists, but it doesn’t stop the shaking.

I make the mistake of lifting my eyes, and they lock with Emilio’s, who can no doubt sense my dread as it fills the car. There’s a cruel glint in his eyes, and it makes me sick to my stomach.

We drive another mile, and through the blizzard-like snow, I can make out the outline of a cabin.

The form gets clearer the closer we get, and the building is so small I can’t imagine—even from this distance—that it’s more than one or two rooms. I also notice another white truck and an old, beat-up sedan parked outside.

Emilio parks next to them.

“Get out,” he barks, and his men get out.

A freezing blast of air fills the car, and I curse under my breath, specifically pissed that no one let me grab my jacket before kidnapping me.

I wish being in the car alone with Emilio improved my odds, but it doesn’t. I’m restrained in the back, he’s armed in the front, and outside is a freezing wasteland I couldn’t survive even if I knew exactly where to go.

I’d freeze to death halfway down the driveway.

“You should’ve brought me that list,” Emilio says in an easy tone.

“How did you find me?” I ask. It’s the only information I have a shot at getting, and I will take every chance I have to get it.

“If you have another way to get it, you need to tell me now. Otherwise, things are about to get very messy. You can still save yourself here.”

The words seem generous enough, but there’s nothing charitable about Emilio’s offer.

“Even if I could get you that list, I would never betray the Consolis.”

Emilio nods. “In that case, the only advice I will offer you is to stay quiet. My cousin is… old-fashioned. He doesn’t respond well to disrespect of any kind.”

“How did you find me?” I ask in a slow, deliberate tone.

“Really, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet,” he says with a laugh. “You’re so cautious about trackers. It’s probably the one place you never thought someone would tag you.”

It’s in the knowing stare through the rearview mirror that I somehow make the connection.

A nurse with short dark hair…

I look down at my left arm.

“You had a tracker injected into me ?”

The nurse had come into my room after Brandon attacked me and given me a shot, claiming to be some antibiotic. Whoever she was, she worked for Diaz, and they’ve been able to track my every move since.

Emilio shrugs. “We figured you’d find it immediately and blame Consoli, but you didn’t. Then you were so confident in your ability to disappear, we let you believe you had.”

My time is running out, so I swallow back my pride and force out the only other question I need answered.

“Am I going to die?”

After a cruel moment of silence, Emilio says, “You should’ve brought the list.”