Page 115 of Keeping Kasey
She looks exactly the same.
So much so that I wonder how we didn’t find her sooner; she wasn’t trying to disguise herself.
She wears jeans, a fitted T-shirt, and a light jacket—the same lazy style she always had. Her blonde hair still falls in wild curls around her delicate face. I take great pleasure in her full lips parting in surprise, but it’s nothing compared to the look in her eyes.
Those cool blue eyes that haunt my nightmares are wide with the fear she’s trying—and failing—to hide.
She’s afraid of me.
Good.
She doesn’t inch closer to the door to escape. It would be futile anyway. She’s smart enough to know that if I’m in here, I have soldiers surrounding the premises.
She’s not going anywhere.
“Huh,” I say. “I remember you being a lot mouthier.”
“How did you find me?” she asks in a voice that’s far calmer than her wild eyes.
Kasey’s always had an excellent handle on her emotions. I thought it was a sign of her strength, but it was just another manipulation.
“You should be more concerned with what happens to you now.”
She moves fast, reaching for a spot on the shelf just barely hidden from where I sit now, and her face goes ghostly white.
“Looking for this?” I ask, pulling her gun from the holster under my jacket.
I aim it at her heart.
It’s an adorable weapon—exactly the kind of gun I would’ve expected Kasey to go for. The .22 caliber barely fits in my hand.
For a moment, I wonder what she would’ve done if I hadn’t taken it first. Would she have only threatened me? Or would she have immediately pulled the trigger?
If she’s learned anything, it would be the latter.
“How poetic,” I say with a breath of laughter, “that you should die by the same weapon that you bought to protect yourself from me.”
I wait for the terror to bleed into her eyes, but a mask of indifference does instead. She drops her hand from the shelf, straightens her back, and lifts her chin.
“Go ahead. Do it.”
I try to decipher whether she truly means it.
Everything from her countenance to her expression indicates she’s ready to die, but Kasey’s proven herself to be quite the deceiver.
Just two days ago, I would’ve ended her life on the spot.
But it seems a lot can change in forty-eight hours.
“As much as I would love to bury your own bullet in your skull,” I start with a lazy draw, “you have something I need.”
Her brow furrows, and it’s a convincing display of confusion—I’ll give her that.
“What are you talking about?”
I stand, slowly putting her gun back in my holster. I maintain eye contact, making the message loud and clear.
I will bring it right back out if I need to.
