Page 6 of Eight Years Gone

“Bea’s bringing Grace down here to answer some questions. You’ll do her the biggest favor of her life and be long gone by then. Long gone, Jagger.”

Nodding again, Jagger pulled himself free of Steve’s grip, then headed for the door and the parking lot.

Getting in his car, he picked up the cell phone he’d long forgotten about, seeing that Grace had called over twenty times.

“Fuck,” he whispered, hearing the agony in his voice as he rested his forehead against the steering wheel, wanting nothing more than to call her—to tell Steve to go fuck himself and take Grace away from here.

But then he looked at his seat covered in her brother’s blood—his fault that he didn’t save him. His fault that he’d ever mentioned Levi’s drug connections and numerous brushes with the law to Grace and Logan one summer night while they sat around the pool talking.

“Fuck,” he muttered again, searching through his contacts, selecting the number on his screen, and listening to it ring.

“Hello?”

“Colonel Hinders, this is Jagger Tennyson.”

“Jagger.” The man cleared the sleep out of his voice. “What a surprise. What can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry to call so late.”

“You know I’m always happy to hear from you.”

Exhaling a long breath, he shook his head, not wanting to do this. But maybe this was best for Grace. They’d planned to finish school, then travel the world together while she took her pictures.

But they couldn’t do that forever.

What if his dreams of eventually opening his own dojang didn’t work out? Was he going to let Grace support him?

She was gorgeous, funny, talented, ambitious, and sweet. She could have anyone—do anything. The last thing he ever wanted to be was a burden—to hold her back. “Is that offer still open? Can you help me get into that special military program?”

Jagger pressed his lips firmly together, one hundred percent certain that the man on the other end of the phone was smiling.

The colonel had relentlessly recruited him, assuring him that his speed on the football field, dead-eye accuracy as a marksman, and the excellent brain in his head would be an asset to the United States military. ‘You’ve got something—a sort of grit we rarely see,’ the guy had told him repeatedly.

“Definitely. We can get the paperwork started—”

Jagger fisted his hand as he felt everything he’d ever wanted slipping away. “It has to be now. I need to be able to get in right away.”

“Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“Logan. He’s—he died. He’s dead.” Maybe if he said it a million more times, it would start to sink in. Maybe he would feel something other than numb.

“What?”

“Tonight. Just a few hours ago. He got shot.”

“What the hell—”

“Levi’s mixed up in it. Steve said… I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t be in Wakeview.”

“Come stay with Sue and me here in Maryland. I’ll text you my address. Then I’ll start making some phone calls as soon as we hang up. This is your destiny, son. I knew it the first time I talked to you—was certain of it the day I saw you fire that gun.”

Right about now, he didn’t give two shits about his destiny. Nothing much mattered at this point. “I’ll start heading your way.”

Ending the call, he started the engine as his phone rang again.

He stared at Grace’s beautiful face smiling at him. Turning it over, he put the Stingray in reverse, then accelerated, leaving behind the life he’d fought so hard to create.

Two

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