Page 73 of The Hardest Hit

“I wish Granger would go away already,” said Evan. “I get it. He’s mad at us. We screwed up his life and he wants revenge. But I would think that his time would be better spent focusing on his defense.”

“We did not screw up his life,” said Jackson. “We didn’t make him sell shit drugs to people with PTSD knowing that it would cause suicides. That’s what screwed his life up. Had he not been a greedy cold-hearted bastard then he wouldn’t be having any of these problems right now. And if he’d just left us the fuck alone then he would have probably skated with minimum jail time and a bunch of fines. But no, he had to hire people to threaten and intimidate us.”

“There were guns,” said Evan. “Aiden says that makes it attempted murder.”

“Yes, it was. So, regardless of whatever he feels about us, my point is…” Jackson seemed to be searching for his point.

“Fuck him?” suggested Evan.

“Yes,” said Jackson. “I want to burn his life to the ground.”

“We could just let it go,” said Evan.

“I keep trying!” snapped Jackson. “He’s the one that keeps coming after us for another swing. Considering that you’re the one he’s swinging at, I’d think you’d be a little more up in arms.”

Evan considered that. “I’m trying,” he said at last. “But he doesn’t really affect my life any, so I’m having a hard time caring.”

Jackson laughed. “He sent people to attack you. How does that not affect you?”

“Well, that was very upsetting,” admitted Evan. “But it’s not like they were very good at it.”

Jackson laughed again.

“And I don’t know, I just don’t think about him, ever. I mean, plane crashes and murder pretty much put me full up on worrying about shit.”

“Oh my God, you and Dominique are exactly the same. You’re killing me,” said Jackson, a smile stretching over his face.

“I’m serious,” said Evan, wondering if he and Dominique were as similar as Jackson thought.

“I know,” said Jackson. “It’s fine. I’ll worry about Granger. We’ll make Kerschel worry about the plane crash shit. And then we’ll move on.”

Evan felt his shoulders relax for what felt like the first time in months. Jackson was right. They were going to move on. This wasn’t permanent. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“Hey,” said Evan, remembering what he’d actually intended to talk to Jackson about, “not to segue from life or death matters to the trivial, but I still have a life.”

“Segue away,” said Jackson.

“You don’t have to drive tomorrow. I’m going to the Wiseman”—he pulled out his phone and checked his calendar—”yes, the Wiseman Christmas party. Castleman’s is next week. And my office party is Friday.”

Jackson laughed. “How many parties are you going to?”

“Like eight? Twelve? I don’t know. December is one long party marathon. It’s the social grease that makes our world turn. Anyway, I’m going to drive myself, so I can leave directly from work.”

“Sounds good. They’ll have a valet, though right? I’d prefer you didn’t park on the street.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” With Olivia along he had no intention of taking unnecessary risks. “At least I won’t have to go to Grandma’s Christmas party this year.”

“I thought you liked those,” said Jackson, looking surprised.

“Just because I’m good at them doesn’t mean I like them,” said Evan, deciding that having already discussed murder on this car ride that they could probably also discuss Christmas. He was feeling practically giddy with all the honesty. “By the time her party rolls around, I’m at the end of the holiday season and I’m exhausted. And that party, in particular, is a full house. It gives me low-grade claustrophobia and a desire to knock over the Christmas tree.”

Jackson burst out laughing. “What did the Christmas tree ever do to you?”

“Not our Christmas tree down in the study. The big one in the ballroom. I want to plow into it and watch all the ornaments smash.”

Jackson laughed harder.“Why?” he demanded.

“I don’t know. You ever see one of those videos where the cat just loses it and starts zooming around the room. I think it’s like that.”