Page 6 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

Logan

I’m not even surprised when James and I pull into a McDonald’s parking lot in Indianapolis. Between that and the Pac-Man obsession, I’m half-expecting Cam to be twelve years old.

I check my phone as I slide my gun into its holster. “It says he’ll be in the back corner in a black shirt.”

“Let me take the lead on this,” James says, not meeting my eye as he holsters his own weapon.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve threatened to kill this guy half a dozen times just on the drive here, and we can’t risk scaring him off.”

I kick the door open. “Something tells me Cam doesn’t scare easily.”

The restaurant is busy—unsurprising since we came right at lunch. Our formal attire does nothing to help us blend in, but it’s crowded enough that we’ll be able to conduct our business with sufficient privacy.

I scan the room and immediately spot Cam in the back corner. He’s a heavyset man with a bald head and countless tattoos that cover his arms and neck. If his deep scowl isn’t enough to deliver the screw off message, his black leather vest drives the point home.

James and I wordlessly make a beeline for his table. Cam doesn’t look up until we’ve taken the seats across from him.

“Interesting choice for a meeting,” I say with a pleasant smile as I pull my jacket back to reveal my gun.

“But if you think an audience will stop me from putting a bullet in your thick skull, then you didn’t do enough research.

I suggest keeping that in mind before you decide to pull another stunt. ”

Cam’s eyes widen comically, but before I can enjoy the satisfaction, we’re interrupted by a snort of laughter.

An actual snort .

The source is a pixie of a girl perched on a chair at the table to our right.

At first glance, it’s impossible to tell how old she is.

She has a round face and wild blonde curls falling over her shoulders that give her a youthful appearance, but there’s nothing youthful about the thin black tank top that clings to her chest. Her soft features are pinched in uncontrolled laughter, which is what brings me back to reality.

“Can I help you?” I ask, lacing condescension through each word.

Her laughter eases, and her eyes—a stunning, pale blue—meet mine. There’s something both alluring and wicked in those eyes as she regards me with an expression of pure amusement.

She smiles at the burly man who hasn’t stopped glaring since I sat down. “You’ll have to excuse my friends. It seems they’ve mistaken me for a man.”

“Is that right?” I ask, standing without a second glance at the man.

The girl stands, and I want to laugh at how small she is. The top of her head just reaches my shoulder, and she looks so fragile compared to James and me, who tower over her.

A wide smile spreads over full pink lips as she holds out her hand. “Kasey Camilla Miller.”

James sighs. “ Cam .”

“Please, call me Kasey.”

The reality of the situation sets in.

This girl hacked into my base and cut all power. She’s the reason we spent hours hunched over a computer playing a children’s game. Then, she screwed with us again by leading us to believe she was the man in the corner.

This girl looks better suited to teach Pilates than hack into the bases of the country’s most notorious mafia families. She’s attractive, with delicate features arranged in a smile—a perfect disguise for the hellion she’s proven to be.

Heat spreads through my chest, and I take a deep breath, careful to keep my mask of composure firmly in place.

I can use this. Somehow, I can use this.

I scan her up and down: the arrogant posture, the relaxed stance, the smug grin. While her overconfidence isn’t entirely undeserved, it is a pedestal I plan to kick out from under her.

“Any more tricks up your sleeve, or are you ready to start acting like an adult?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

My lack of reaction doesn’t seem to faze her. She drops the hand I refused to shake and sits at her table.

“Well?” she says when James and I take the seats across from her. “What’s your offer?”

“I’m not making you an offer.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Assessing a threat,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

Kasey’s smile is saccharine sweet. “And do you like what you see?”

My lip turns up.

She’s a fiery thing. She knows she has leverage, skill, and my attention—which is giving her one hell of a confidence boost.

And as I—once again—scan the girl in front of me, I’m sure she’s never experienced a confidence shortage a day in her life.

She’s beautiful.

I send my brother a look, and he lowers his head only slightly in answer.

“I think you look a hell of a lot easier to neutralize than he did,” I say, nodding toward the man who still glares at me.

She follows my gaze with a laugh—if her snort can be considered a laugh. It’s the most ridiculous sound, yet my smile grows.

“ Neutralize ?” She shakes her head. “And here I thought I impressed you.”

“Unfortunately, you did more than impress me,” I tell her, leaning forward. “You made yourself a liability.”

Kasey brings one hand to her chest with a dramatized gasp. “Me? A liability?”

Her eyes are alight with playfulness. She’s enjoying this, and while I’m mildly amused by her, I also have a job to do.

“You did your research. You know who I am, who my family is, and what we’re capable of. I bet you also know exactly how far my influence goes and what I’m willing to do to maintain it.”

She drops the dramatics and reaches for her drink.

“Your point?” she asks, taking a long sip.

The second her cup is set back on the table, James holds out a vial. It’s two inches long, as thin as a pencil, and filled with clear liquid.

I take it from him and inspect it fondly.

“In about five minutes, you’ll get sweaty and start wondering how you got here; confusion is usually the first symptom.

After that, your lungs will feel like they’re being squeezed to the size of tennis balls, and finally, your joints will start locking up.

Once that part starts, it’s usually too late. ”

All smugness drains from Kasey’s face as a smile spreads over mine.

The satisfaction is damn potent.

Her eyes dart between me, James, and her drink. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“ I didn’t do anything,” I say, gesturing to her cup. “ You drank from a cup my brother might’ve laced with a nerve agent.”

I flash the vial. “This is atropine, a fast-acting antidote for nerve agents. Without it”—I make a show of dropping the vial into my jacket pocket—“you’ll be paralyzed in your seat in a matter of minutes.”

“What do you want?” she practically spits the words, eyeing my jacket pocket as the loveliest shade of red tints her cheeks.

“First, a reality check. You might be big and scary behind a keyboard, but you’re in my world now, and the games I play don’t come with a respawn.”

She swallows hard but doesn’t offer any quips.

I must be getting through to her.

“Second, I want the assurance that there is absolutely no external drive with information concerning my family or the Moreno family. And third, I want to know why I shouldn’t leave right now and let the toxins run their course.”

“You have a job you need done. I can do it,” she says, eyes still fixed on my pocket.

“You don’t even know what the job is.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she snaps. “I can do it.”

“So could a hundred other candidates. You’re not special.”

Her brief smile is bitter. “You could have a million other candidates, but none of them would come close to me.”

“That’s a lot of confidence for someone who’s minutes away from drooling on the table.”

“It’s not confidence. It’s fact.”

Her cheeks are still flushed, and a nervous sheen glosses her skin. It’s a sharp contrast to her complete relaxation from moments ago, and yet her assurance is unmoving.

As I study her, I realize her boasting doesn’t come from thinking she’s better than other candidates.

It comes from knowing she is.

“Hmm. Then there’s the problem of your questionable loyalty.” I shake my head. “I don’t typically work with people who hold my base hostage and sift through my database.”

“Then don’t. But either make good on your promise and walk away now, or give me the damn vial and tell me what you have in mind.”

“I played your game for hours, and you want to quit mine after two minutes?”

The deepening blush on her cheeks negates any intimidation her glare might’ve carried.

“As a matter of fact,” I say, “I do have something in mind: a probation period.”

“ Probation ,” she repeats, distaste marring the single word.

“Your little stunt caused a lot of chaos, and you’re going to upgrade the security of every single one of my bases to ensure nothing like it ever happens again. Once the new system is installed and we’ve had time to decide if we can trust you, we’ll talk about the real job we’re hiring you for.”

“Give me the vial,” she says, sharply enunciating each word.

“Give me your word,” I counter. “You’ll drop the attitude, assure me there are no external hard drives, and you’ll behave yourself on probation.”

My belittling visibly grates on her as she clenches and unclenches her jaw. “So, I don’t have a choice, then? It’s work for you or die right here.”

“Die?” I weigh my head side to side. “Probably not. Most likely just some nerve damage and seizures, but who can really say for sure?”

“ You hacked me ,” she snaps. “Everything I did was self-defense.”

I nod to her drink. “Then I trust you’ll defend yourself now and accept my generosity. You have talent, Kasey . It would be a shame to see it go to waste.”

I say her name in a tone meant to mock her, but when the word comes out, it lingers on my lips just long enough to make my chest tighten. I take a deep breath to ease the pressure.

“Fine,” she grates through clenched teeth. “Now, give me the vial.”

“Give me your word,” I say, leisurely taking the vial out to twirl it between my fingers.

Her glare is deadly, even as sweat beads on her brow. “What does my word mean to you?”

“It’s as binding as anything else.”