Galahad
Henri had criedwhen Grace gave him the egg. Not just a tear or two. The man had held it against his chest with both hands, closed his eyes, and wept. His lawyer had looked uncomfortable, but his assistant had tissues at the ready. Grace cried too, because of course she did, and I stood there with my arm in a sling and a lump in my throat that was clearly the fault of my pain meds.
He’d insisted she accept the reward of five million dollars, the amount the Dubois family had set aside for whoever brought the egg home. Grace had tried to refuse. Henri hadn’t let her. Dmitry received his portion for the years he’d spent tracking it down. The lawyer handled the paperwork, including a condition Arthur suggested: if Henri sold the egg within the next five years, Grace would receive half of the proceeds.
That was three hours ago. Now we were on the Gulfstream, climbing over Eastern Europe. I was in the aft cabin with Arthur and Merlin, the three of us around the worktable, reviewing footage Merlin had taken of our evening at Werner Kessler’s estate.
“Without drone coverage or helmet cams,” said Merlin, “we can’t do a proper After-Action Review.”
I rolled my left shoulder, but the seats at the worktable were smaller than the others in the jet, and there wasn’t enough room. The doctors had instructed me to keep the arm immobilized for a month or two, but honestly, the sling was already driving me nuts.
“AAR procedures,” Arthur said as he jotted notes onto his tablet. “Drones and helmet cams. I should call Tristan about the office renovations. We may need larger storage.”
Grace scrolled through the jet’s entertainment system from the couch in the mid-cabin. The lack of turbulence and avoiding the windows apparently made her a calmer passenger. “Anyone mind if I put on a movie?”
“Go for it,” I said.
“Are you okay with a romcom? It’s got a ninety-two percent on Rotten Tomatoes.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“It means people liked it, Garrett.” She flashed me a huge smile, then hit play. “I’m putting it on.”
Arthur grinned at his tablet, while Merlin pointed out an interesting tactic the Pendragon team had used at the front door after the flashbang went off. It felt like any normal debrief. Except this wasn’t a normal debrief. This was me talking with my old teammates, while my girlfriend picked a movie on Arthur’s father’s jet.
Girlfriend.When had that happened?
Somewhere between Michigan and a hospital in Prague, apparently.
“I digitally signed the final paperwork for the contract in Monaco this morning.” Merlin shut off the AAR video. “Your help with the handoff saved me a week, Arthur, so I’m available now.”
“Excellent.” Arthur settled back in his chair. “Morganna sent me a list of employment expectations, including a salary about fifty percent higher than I’d budgeted and a tech stack that’ll require us to modify the server room config. Tristan’s going to shoot me if I keep making changes to the office floor plan.”
Merlin chuckled. “If you can handle the tech side, she’ll negotiate her salary. You know she’s worth whatever you can pay, right?”
“Oh, I know. But her White Spring contract doesn’t end for another four months, and I expect she’ll spend the entire time wearing me down.” Arthur raised an eyebrow at me. “Speaking of staffing, what are you thinking, Galahad? Has a week with us changed your mind?”
Grace glanced over from the couch. She might have had the movie playing, but she was still listening to us. She knew what I was going to say. We’d talked about it several times during visiting hours, in my brief waking moments. She’d asked an exhaustive list of questions. I’d given her what answers I could, and somewhere in those conversations, I’d gone from thinking about staying to deciding.
“I’m in,” I said. “I called White Spring to let them know I was off the market.”
The corner of his mouth turned up, and he gave me one nod. “Good. We’ve got work to do when we get back.”
Grace laughed from the mid-cabin. She’d probably seen the movie a dozen times, but it didn’t spoil her enjoyment.
I touched my left shoulder, as though that might alleviate the discomfort.
“Worse than the last time?” asked Arthur.
Green eyes floated in my memory. The last time I’d been shot, Carissa had been with someone else. But those weren’t the green eyes I was seeing. They were Grace’s. The woman who’dbeen by my side through the whole thing. “I’m just older. Not healing as fast.”
“Go.” He gestured to the couch with his tablet pencil. “I need to contact my accountant about our sudden influx of personnel.”
I eased out of the seat, and Grace shifted to make room before I’d taken two steps. I lowered myself carefully, and she tucked herself against my right side, pulling my good arm around her shoulders like she was arranging furniture.
“Comfy?” she asked.
“Getting there.”
