Page 51 of Keeping Kasey
He narrows his eyes but indulges me. “The bark matched the bite.”
“And if I’d posed a physical threat?”
His lip hints at turning up as he follows my line of thinking. “I would’ve used a real nerve agent.”
“Exactly. I need a way to gauge potential clients. Reading people is easy when they’re sitting in front of you, but it’s harder behind a screen. Seeing how they react to the test tells me more than any meeting would. If they have the patience and caliber to pass, they’re usually worth my time.”
He drinks from his beer as he listens, then sets it on the counter and motions for another. “How did our reaction rank?”
“Entertaining enough to earn my interest.”
“We handled it well, all things considered.”
I laugh. “That’s not how I remember it.”
“You can’t know that for sure. You weren’t there.”
The words are a noose tightening around my throat.
He said it so casually, without a hint of suspicion or accusation—but Ifeelit.
I never told the Consolis I hacked into the camera feed to watch them take my test, but it seems James has already guessed it and is fishing for confirmation.
I take a long sip of my drink as I watch him.
James is the only Consoli sibling I haven’t quite figured out.
Elise is personable and kind. Damon is a mischievous goofball. Logan is an egomaniac. Even Matteo—I’m starting to learn—is a happy-go-lucky playboy.
But James isn’t so simple.
He seems—by the standards of the criminal world—normal. I would never guess by looking at him that he’s one of the most dangerous men in the country. He’s quiet, which I made the mistake of interpreting as harmless at our first meeting.
I’ve never seen him riled up or even mildly frustrated. He’s always calm, level-headed, and easygoing. He’s quick to smile and ease the tension in a room. Whenever I’m around James, there’s a sort of peace in the atmosphere, coaxing me to relax.
Which is exactly why I need to stay on my guard around him.
“Educated guess," I say, planting a sweet smile on my lips. “The test also gives me time to ensure I have more dirt on my client than they could ever have on me.”
“So, you have dirt on our family?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“Guess it’s up for interpretation, then.”
James and Matteo straighten at the same time the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and that’s all the confirmation I need to know he’s here.
I finish off the last of my drink and wave to the bartender for a refill before scanning the room. He approaches a group of soldiers, wearing a tight smile, as he leans one elbow against a table with a whiskey glass cradled in his hand.
“Here,” Matteo says, holding out a newly filled glass to me.
Just before the glass reaches my hand, it slips from Matteo’s grip, and I barely catch it before the contents spill all over me. I manage to save most of the whiskey, but some still splashes onto my jeans.
I curse under my breath.
“Let me help with that.” Matteo already has a stack of napkins in his hand, and he presses them to my thigh.
