11
Logan
“We’ve got most of the damaged shit out,” I told Cannon as our plane hit our cruising altitude of thirty-thousand feet. “But they didn’t give her any budget room to replace anything.”
“Damn.” He shook his head and closed his book, setting the hardback down on the table between our grouping of seats.
“Exactly. And she won’t let me pull the Reapers in to help her, either.”
The seat belt light pinged, and there was a general rustling in the cabin as our teammates started to move around.
“So why don’t you just donate an anonymous check? Problem solved,” he suggested.
“I thought about that. She’d immediately blame Connell since she knows he’s a Reaper, and knowing Delaney, she’d give the check back to him. It’s probably going to be a million dollars to get the wing recarpeted, reshelved, and restocked.” Turbulence jostled the aircraft, and more than one curse word came from behind us, accompanied by the sound of falling luggage.
“Articles may shift during the flight. Didn’t ye listen?” Connell laughed at whoever just got pelted with his own bag.
“What do you need a million for?” A blonde head peeked over Cannon’s shoulder.
“Hey, Sephie. What are you doing here?” I asked as she propped her elbows on the seat.
Cannon’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even look up at her.
“We’re partnering with the Predators for a charity event that supports education in rural areas, so Mr. Silas asked if I wouldn’t mind hitching a ride with you guys to chat with their team lead. Now what do you need the million for?” She slid out of her seat and moved so she was standing next to Cannon.
“The public library,” I answered.
“The one the hurricane damaged?” Her head tilted.
“That’s the one. The library didn’t give its chief librarian enough budget to get it back up and running.”
Turbulence struck again, and Persephone barely caught herself from falling.
“Would you please take a fucking seat?” Cannon growled at the tiny blonde.
“Is there really any reason for that language? And honestly, I’m just fine, thank you very much.” She smoothed the lines out on her pale blue sheath dress and shot Cannon a glare. “You know that’s the reason Josephine Blackstone left. She was the librarian when the hurricane hit, and she told my cousin Tempe—”
“You have a cousin named what?” Connell interrupted from across the aisle.
“Tempe,” she said it slowly, like he hadn’t caught it the first time. “It’s short for Temperance.”
“Typical rich person name,” Cannon snorted.
“You should talk, Cannon,” she shot back just as the turbulence threw her sideways—right into Cannon’s lap. “Ooooofph!”
He gripped her hips and set her on her feet like she might infect him with something. “First, let’s make it clear that I didn’t grow up with money. I just happen to have it now, and yes, there’s a difference. And second, for the love of Christ, take. A. Fucking. Seat.”
“Right. I’m sorry about that. Thank you for not dropping me on my rear.” Persephone said as she tucked her hair behind her ears and then slid into the seat next to mine—directly across from Cannon. “Anyway, Tempe said that the library wasn’t going to fund a renovation for that wing, and Josephine took another job up in Raleigh. Guess she didn’t want the headache that got passed on to her successor.” She fastened her seat belt with a click.
“So where does that leave us? Leave her?” I corrected myself with a shake of my head. “Does that entire wing stay stripped to the bare bones?”
“We could do a fundraiser,” she suggested with a grin. “Kind of like the ostrich reserve, but bigger!”
I cringed.
“What?” she asked, her shoulders falling slightly.
“Oh, this is going to be rich. Explain yourself, Ward,” Cannon ordered.
This might officially be the most awkward moment of my life. Persephone was tight-laced, well-bred, and so...mannered, that I doubted she could possibly understand that I was lying—by omission—to my girlfriend.
“Right. So, there’s a slight problem with the Reapers getting involved.” I shifted my weight in my seat.
“What is it?”
“Well, she already said she didn’t want the Reapers near it. She kind of has an issue with professional athletes...celebrities in general.”
“But...you’re a Reaper.” Her brow puckered.
Connell snickered, and I debated throwing Cannon’s book at him.
“Yeah, so she doesn’t know that,” I spoke slowly and left my face in its original cringe position.
Persephone blinked, then folded her hands in her lap carefully. “I see,” she finally said in a soft, southern drawl.
“You must think I’m the biggest asshole on the planet to lie to her.”
“It’s not my place to judge how you handle your relationship, Logan.” She smiled softly—so fucking composed when I felt like I might need the air sickness bag at any moment.
“I’m crazy about her, I promise. And after Blaire…” I raked my hand through my hair in frustration. Shit, this was starting to sound lame even to me, and I was the one who’d come up with my convoluted reasoning.