Page 197 of Eight Years Gone

“That’s the plan.” Because Colton would forever be one of Ray’s loose ends until this was finally finished.

“You’re good, Tennyson. Truly the best I’ve ever had on my payroll.”

“Rod was an integral part of this operation,” Jagger reminded Jason.

“Don’t play modest with me. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you ever change your mind and want back in on the regular contracts, all you have to do is call. I still have people asking for you. We’re waiting for you to come to your senses and get your ass back in the game.”

Jagger rolled his eyes as he rubbed at his jaw, listening to the same old spiel. “I’m not doing regular contracts. Grace and I are talking about starting a family.”

Jason puffed out a pained laugh. “Don’t say shit like that to me because it’s a damn shame, man. A fucking waste of everything you’re good at.”

“Says the eternal bachelor.”

“You’re damn straight. You can’t tell me you hated everything about your life overseas—that you didn’t love the hell out of that trip we took to Barcelona to meet up with our top client last year. The nightlife was fire.”

Jagger laughed, remembering how he’d had to mostly carry Jason back to his hotel room after his boss had gotten supremely drunk. “Those ladies drank you under the table. They owned you.”

“Says you.”

“Yeah, the sober one who actually remembers.” Jagger chuckled as he shook his head. “I won’t deny that there weren’t some excellent perks to the job—that we didn’t have some damn good times.”

“And you’re giving it up. Say goodbye to your freedom, man, because there’s no turning back once you and your lady decide to pop out a kid.”

Jagger turned in his seat, realizing Grace was standing in the doorway, looking gorgeous in snug jeans and a stylish red and white sweater. She’d pushed her hair back with a black headband that accentuated big blue eyes full of hurt.

Walking in, she yanked up her camera bag, then turned and left.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, hanging up and rushing after her as he shoved his phone away. “Grace—”

She put on her black peacoat, tossing him a cool gaze. “I’m heading out.”

He took a step toward her. “I’m coming with you.”

“How about you don’t.” Opening the door, she closed it with a sharp snap and was gone.

* * *

Jagger paid his entrance fee at the doors of the high school gym, hoping that an hour had been enough time for Grace to cool off.

Grace rarely got super pissed, but tonight she’d had every right to be. She’d walked in on a conversation that had sounded like he was second-guessing his decision to give up his overseas life. But that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Eager to find her, he navigated around several young families, spotting Grace among the crowds and the numerous activity booths. She held her camera, crouching down to snap a picture of a toddler walking around with more of the chocolate cupcake he was eating smeared on his face than was making it into his mouth.

The toddler’s mother said something to Grace, making her smile. But it wasn’t her real smile—not her gorgeous grin that she often flashed when all was right with her world.

Because he hadn’t just made Grace angry, he’d also made her sad.

She stood, walking to Santa’s workshop, where Ben, dressed up to play the man in red, sat on an ornate throne, holding a five- or six-year-old little girl on his lap.

Grace put the camera in front of her face, snapping a picture of Christy dressed in a green elf’s costume, donning red striped tights and curly-tipped shoes.

Suddenly, Christy walked forward, grabbing Grace’s hand as she said something, pulling her toward Santa’s throne as the little girl vacated her spot on Ben’s thigh.

Christy tugged her friend on Ben’s lap as she spoke to Grace.

Ben wrapped his arm around Grace’s waist, saying something that made her laugh—the kind of laugh Jagger hadn’t heard in a while.

Moments later, Grace stood as Ben did, hugging him before she and her two friends walked off to make their way through the crowd to join Brennan and Mike at the cookie-decorating table.

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