Chapter Eleven

Echo didn’t know just how long he’d sat there and played in the blood.

“Get up,” Rogue hissed, snapping him back into his right mind.

When had Rogue come into the apartment?

Gazing blankly down at the dead body, he found his gloved hands full of squished intestines. Getting sluggishly to his feet, he along with Rogue’s help found every single one of his daggers and his Ulu knife. He made extra sure to count all his knives as he tucked them away with no sheath left empty.

“What are you doing here?” Echo rasped through a raw throat.

“What does it matter? Get your ass out of here,” Rogue snapped and shoved him toward the window.

“Where’s Fisher?” Echo asked, stumbling toward the window.

“On a job.”

The dam broke, but not until he was outside and almost to the bottom of the scaffolding. It started with a small tremble in his hands that caused him to lose his grip and drop to the ground below. It wasn’t far, but a pain shot through his ankle.

Rogue yanked him up and shoved him toward the sidewalk.

Echo ran.

Hauling ass around the apartment building, he ran full out through the pain until he was about a mile away. Then, and only then, did he hunch over in a deserted alley.

Rogue was nowhere to be seen, but the assassin was like that—disappearing and reappearing at will.

Lifting the bottom of his mask, Echo puked his guts out. He hadn’t played with a kill in months.

Spitting bile into the trashcan behind a closed fast-food place, he pulled his hood down and walked back to retrieve his vehicle. His ankle hurt like hell and he started limping halfway there.

Could shit get anymore fucked up? He wiped at his nose beneath the mask with one messy glove.

All he wanted now was to collect his ID and cell phone, destroy his clothing, and shower. And then hide away and sleep for a fucking month.

And not remember the past.

It was sometime a week later that Echo stumbled groggily from his rumpled bed. The sheet and blanket were in a pile of mess and one of his pillows lay on the floor. He’d been feeling weird for days, like his nerves were raw. An off and on-again pounding headache didn’t help.

Flashes of the kill flickered on replay, and his skin felt tingly and tight. A feeling of impending doom created a fog in his brain that he couldn’t seem to shake.

Checking his phone, he found that Fisher had sent him a text the night before.

Fisher: Rogue is worried.

Echo: I’m okay.

Fisher: Stay safe.

Echo: You too.

He sat there for a moment recalling how the three of them along with Jinx and Fox had watched each other’s backs through their training—if you could call what Solomon had done as training. Torture was more like it. Although, it had made him the man he was today.

Was that a good thing? He didn’t know, but it was all he knew. This was his life, and that fact had been pounded into his head since the age of ten. That he’d killed the john before Solomon caught him worked in Solomon’s favor in turning him into a killing machine.

Maybe it had been his destiny. Echo thought of Jinx and Fox, they’d made it out and stayed out along with several others. And Echo was glad for them both. He, Fisher, and Rogue hadn’t been that lucky. Oh, he’d tried to leave once and had stayed gone for six years, but family had eventually brought him back.

Maybe they weren’t related by blood, but he considered Fisher and Rogue his brothers.

After making and sipping on a much-needed cup of coffee, Echo selected a nine-millimeter handgun from his small collection of weapons, and settled in at his small kitchen table. He meticulously broke down the weapon and cleaned it, purposely keeping his mind blank. Reassembling the nine-millimeter, he twisted on a new silencer.

He would start carrying it, even if only for a few days until he felt safe again. If he’d had his gun, things would have turned out quite differently that night. With the barrel of a nine-millimeter pointed in the face, a mark would have been too scared to fight.

When his cell phone pinged with an incoming text, he stared down at the video that came through. Usually, he just deleted this type of bullshit, but something made him hit the play button.

“Motherfucker,” he whispered and stared in disbelief at the screen when he saw himself slicing open the throat of a mark he’d done just last week.

Slamming down his weapon on the table, the sound cracked through the room and he glared at the video.

The phone rang from the same number, and Echo snatched it up. “How’d you get my phone number, you motherfucker!”

“Meet me. Two-thirty a.m. at the Ventura pier if you don’t want this made public,” a robotic voice responded and hung up.

The asshole was using a voice changer. It wouldn’t matter, Echo would kill this fucker. His first mistake was wanting to meet him. What did he want? A free hit job, probably. Big fucking error on the guy’s part.

The phone number was unknown, the person behind the twenty second video anonymous, and Echo slammed the phone down and lifted back up the nine-millimeter in the other.

This was bad news.

Someone had followed him and filmed him completing a hit. It had to be someone he knew. He’d been covered from head to toe in black clothing so they wouldn’t have been able to see who he really was…unless they already knew. Who the fuck was out there videoing his jobs?

That was really dangerous for business.

“Whoever you are? You’re fucking dead,” he snarled at his silent phone.

The pier was located off the coast of Ventura, California, and from where he lived, he could drive there in twenty minutes tops. He thought fleetingly about calling Solomon to report the incident, but he didn’t want the consequences of the Erebus boss finding out he’d let himself be filmed.

He’d take care of this shit himself.

Ice stood near the water slightly after two a.m.

The ocean was calming to him even though the waves were churning and crashing against the shore.

The first week of March in California was damned chilly and a storm threatened to break at any moment. He didn’t mind, though, and turned to the sea. In quiet times like this, his thoughts turned to Echo. He’d spent last night searching for the assassin, but he’d come up empty handed.

He wasn’t all that worried because Echo had disappeared for months before. Besides, he was the one who’d bailed and gone to Athens, so maybe Echo was pissed and this was payback? Or maybe he didn’t even think of him anymore.

Since assassins worked primarily alone, Ice had been able to avoid running into Echo when he’d returned from Greece, but that had only been to give the man space. Now, when he wanted to locate Echo, he couldn’t.

Wasn’t that life for you?

He sighed. He would need to take different measures and alter his tactics.

A man with long, ratted hair stumbled near the end of the dock clutching a bottle before finally passing out on one of the benches.

Having left Grit at Seven and Hunter’s place, Ice was alone, but it didn’t bother him.

He, Stone, and Real had been ready to take another job in Las Vegas, but he’d been called back to take this job in Ventura while Stone and Real took on something else. The overload with jobs was a bitch right now, but it would soon ease up with the new men once Dave gave his final approval.

This hit was to take out Leo Getty, the leader of a human trafficking ring, and the man wasn’t due to arrive until three a.m., so Ice had time to kill. He would need to make his way to a lifeguard tower he had earlier scoped out. From there, he’d have a clean shot at the guy, who should be arriving at a closed restaurant across the walkway. The place Getty owned was high-end and looked fancy, but it was used to traffic young adults.

Turning away from the water, Ice made his way up the sandy incline and reached the pavement where it ended and the wooden walkway of the pier began.

Making his way along the pier, he gazed at the water as he moved closer to the lifeguard tower. He waited patiently for the right time to take up his position. In this weather, there was no sense in climbing and laying on a lifeguard tower before he needed to.

He thought about the money he’d get for this hit. With this payment, he could finally afford to purchase his own home without touching his savings. Of course, he could have bought one when he worked for Erebus years ago, but he hadn’t felt the desire.

A home.

Wouldn’t that be something? He’d never in a million years thought about buying a house until he’d come back this time to work for Erebus. It was Echo’s doing, and Ice almost laughed out loud and continued walking. He was turning into a mush.

That was what love did to a guy. Scratch that…heavy affection. Or if it was love, it was…

Unrequited love.

Echo didn’t love him or like him, nor really know him yet, but if it all worked out, Ice would change that soon. He wanted to share his past with Echo, even though it was boring. Plus, he wanted to hear about the things Dave didn’t know about Echo.

Halfway down the pier, he stopped. There wasn’t any reason, but his sixth sense told him that someone was watching him.

Turning slowly around, he found Echo standing about twenty feet from him.

Speak of the devil and he’d appear.

Ice smiled.

Snick.

Echo pulled the trigger and shot him.

The bullet punched hard.

The pain took his breath away.