Page 17 of Keeping Kasey
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?”
“Ididn’t do anything,” I say, gesturing to her cup. “Youdrank 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.
