Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

“What?” I asked.

“You have to go public,” she said, setting her phone on the bar. “What have you collected on him? Anything we can use?”

I tilted my head. “Collected?”

She huffed. “Yeah, pictures. Records. Things he admitted to you about his past?”

I shook my head.

“You’ve been with him for this long and you didn’t collect one single thing you could use against him if something like this happened?”

I gaped at her like she was from another planet.

She waved me off. “That’s okay,” she said. “Unfortunate, but we can make something up.”

“Make something up?” I repeated like some sort of confused parrot.

“Yes. We’ll come up with the best, most heart-wrenching story. Oh!” She smacked my shoulder. “We could say he bought your ostriches from the black market or something. People will hate him for that.”

“No—”

“And then,” she cut me off. “You can tell him you’ll only retract the story if he pays you compensation for your time and pain.”

“You’re joking right?” I asked, looking from her and then back to Echo who made her way toward us.

“Like hell I am,” she said. “You deserve to make him pay. Now, let’s roll with this ostrich story, ‘kay? Trust me, they’ll hate him. His PR rep will totally tell him to pay you to take it down. It’ll be magic.” She reached for her cell on the bar, but Echo snatched it up first.

“Echo!” Blaire chided.

“I don’t know where the fuck you get off spouting this poison to my friend, but you sure as hell aren’t doing it in my bar.” Echo glared at her.

Blaire narrowed her gaze. “Don’t pretend like we aren’t the same, Echo,” she snapped. “You’d do the same thing if Sawyer did this to you.”

Echo rolled her eyes.

“You would! We have to protect ourselves. These Reapers are primed for two things—heartbreak and fame.”

“And we can clearly tell which one you value most, you piece of trash.” Echo tossed Blaire’s cell at her chest, and she scrambled to catch it. “Get the fuck out of my bar.”

Blaire opened her mouth to protest but Echo cut her off with a raised brow. Blaire raised her chin, spun off the chair, and clicked out of the bar.

I turned to Echo, my eyes wide. “Poor Logan.”

Echo shook her head. “Doubt he even knows.”

“I didn’t know,” I said. “She’s always been nice to me.”

“Well,” Echo said, leaning against the bar. “Shit like this shows people’s true colors.”

I nodded.

“So, what are you going to do?” She asked, her voice softer in the loud bar.

My heart, what was left of the broken pieces, cringed at the question. I wanted to call Connell. Wanted him to tell me it was all a lie, but my survival instincts had kicked in the moment I read the article. The moment I saw the pity and judgment in everyone’s eyes as they witnessed my downfall. My walls rebuilding, reinforcing. Pulling the pieces of myself back together so I could withstand this heavy a fallout.

“Can I have another drink?” I asked instead of answering her.

She sighed, but gave me a generous pour.

I scooped up the glass, raising it to her in thanks, and in a silent pledge to sit here and drink until I could no longer feel the pain.

17

Connell

“Did you get ahold of her?” Logan asked, coming to sit next to me on the wide leather couch that held down the far wall of the first class lounge in Chicago O’Hare.

“No,” I answered, looking at my cell phone like it would hold the answers.

“Weird. Did you try texting?”

“Yeah.” I thumbed through at least twelve unanswered texts. The last she’d replied to was this morning, and nothing had been wrong.

Was this one of those girl moments where they said everything was fine, but really they were secretly plotting your death?

“Did you do something to piss her off?” Logan raised his eyebrows.

I scoured my memory, trying to think of something—anything that would explain what the hell was going on back in Charleston. “I can’t think of a single thing, honestly. Maybe her cell phone died?”

He looked away and nodded slowly. “Right. Her cell phone died and that’s why she hasn’t answered a call or a text in the last seven hours. Maybe she’s busy. Maybe a bird got out at the reserve.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanted to tell her we’d been delayed.” We’d been delayed again and again and again.

“We can’t really control the weather,” Logan said with a shrug.

“You get through to Blaire?”

“Yeah. She said something about Echo going off on her, but I’m not getting in the middle of it. I mean, Echo is pregnant and hormonal and Blaire can be… a little overdramatic.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked across the room to where Sawyer sat with Axel and Lukas.

Cannon plopped down in the overstuffed armchair opposite our couch and pulled out a book.