Chapter Thirteen

Hearing voices, Ice came to.

“Did you get the bullet out?” Echo asked.

“I did,” said a voice Ice didn’t recognize. “I closed the wound and I’ll get some antibiotics.”

“Thank you, Justice.”

“Why didn’t you contact Rogue or Fisher?” Justice asked.

“They don’t have your skills with bullet removal.”

“Okay…Care to tell me what the fuck happened?” the man called Justice said.

“We were set up,” Echo said, no way did he want his brothers mixed up in any of this. He considered Justice safe since the man was related to Wrath, plus Justice would not prevent him from taking Ice and leaving. That was what his plan was…There was no way that Ice could survive here right now.

Fighting the weakness that had taken over his whole body, Ice was unable to speak or move at all. They must have given him a strong painkiller, he thought before he passed back out.

The fever hit him hard and he was in an out of it so much so that he only caught snatches of conversation and lost track of time.

The next time Ice was able to stay awake for longer than a few minutes, they were on the move. He was being held up by a man a bit bigger than him with an arm draped around his waist. Echo ran to a black SUV and opened the door to the backseat.

It was a good thing the guy next to him was strong because Ice was pretty sure he would have fallen to the ground and wouldn’t have been able to get back up again.

“You got the passports?” the man Echo called Justice asked and Ice realized it was the guy holding him up.

“Yeah, thank you,” Echo said.

“You know you can stay hiding out with me,” Justice said.

“It’s already been a week. I’m nervous. I need to get the hell out of here and get him well,” Echo said.

“Alright. Here’s the name and number of my medical contact when you get there. Plus, a place you can buy supplies.”

“I do have my own contacts,” Echo said.

“Take them, just in case.” Justice held out the piece of paper and Echo took it, read it, and handed it back.

Echo moved closer to take Ice from Justice and wrapped his arm around his waist to move him toward the SUV. Ice was guided into the backseat, and his stomach hurt like a fucking bitch. Slowly, he managed to get inside with Echo’s help and panting, he leaned back while Echo buckled him in. Over Echo’s shoulder, Ice watched as Justice put the flame from a lighter to the small piece of paper and it went up in smoke. The guy seemed vaguely familiar, but Ice couldn’t place him.

“Call me when you land,” Justice said.

“I will, but I won’t tell you where we are.”

“Good. Don’t tell a soul.”

Light filtered through the window, cutting a swath across his eyes, and Ice slapped around the bed until he found a pillow to put over his face.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Echo said.

Fuck. That was right. He vaguely remembered the SUV and then a commercial flight and then customs, but not much after that. Echo had somehow taken care of everything and Ice had to admit he was impressed.

Right at that moment, he had no idea of where he was, but it felt humid as hell.

Had Echo carried him away to a secret lair?

“Ice?”

“What?” he said, his voice muffled.

“I was set up.” The bed dipped when Echo took a seat beside him.

“No.” Ice pulled the pillow from his face and stared into Echo’s bottomless brown eyes. “We were set up.”

“Is that why you were on the pier?” Echo frowned.

“I was told to take out a mark at a restaurant across the walkway.”

“I was sent this.”

Ice took the phone Echo held out and watched the short video clip. “You disable the GPS on this phone?”

Echo snorted, but his lips twitched. “I’m not a newbie.”

“Where’s my dog?” Ice croaked.

“Probably where you left him?” Echo blinked.

Good to know. Seven and Hunter would take very good care of Grit.

“How long have I been out of it?” He sipped at the straw Echo held to his lips.

“It’s been two weeks. We’ve been here for three days.”

“Where’s here?”

“Maldives.”

So that was the reason for the humidity he felt. What he knew of the Maldives was the country was made up of nineteen hundred coral islands.

As far as Ice knew, the island was filled with civil unrest and remained a nesting ground for terrorism. Leave it to an assassin to flee to such a violent place.

Handing back the phone, Ice held Echo’s gaze. He wanted to stay awake and get more answers to other questions, but his body was telling him he needed rest.

His eyes drooped and rolling his head away from Echo, he closed his eyes and slept.

It seemed that sleep and eating small amounts of food was all he was capable of for the next week and a half.

A few days ago, Echo started opening the window on the far side of the room. Beyond lay blue sky with a few palm fronds hanging that blew in the wind. They must have been on a tropical island, but he was almost afraid to ask.

They didn’t talk much, but that was mainly because he didn’t say much.

What could he really say at this point?

They’d been set up, but Echo had still shot him. The assassin had no problem that night trying to take his life.

Which brought up the question—why had Echo saved him instead of finishing him off? A true killer wouldn’t have thought twice about killing someone who threatened their identity. Had Echo hesitated because it was him? Was that the reason? Ice wanted to ask, but he stayed silent.

In the beginning of the following week, Ice felt well enough to sit up in bed and even made it by himself to a chair by the window.

Echo walked in with a bowl of soup and fed him with a large spoon. A napkin was dabbed at his mouth and chin. Ice ignored Echo until the man stayed squatting next to his chair.

Finally, he turned to meet the other man’s gaze. Something painful and weary swirled in the tormented depths of Echo’s eyes and Ice wanted to take the pain away, he just didn’t know how. Reaching out, he cupped the man’s cheek, and Echo sucked in a swift breath of air.

“You shot me,” he said gruffly.

Echo’s tongue darted out and licked at his bottom lip. The man’s lips parted and a sigh escaped.

“I’m sorry.”

Ice thought for a second that he was imagining things. Had he heard correctly? Echo had apologized.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“I couldn’t.”

Searching Echo’s gaze, Ice suspected the reason Echo hadn’t shot him…

“You like me,” he said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” came the tart response and Ice smiled and then winced.

His smile grew when Echo pulled the blanket further up his legs and leaned closer to lift the colorful tourist shirt he wore. Echo placed one palm on the bandage beneath, probably testing for heat.

“Are you in pain? Do you feel hot?” Echo dropped his shirt back in place and leaned over to place a hand on his forehead before he could even respond.

He didn’t mind Echo’s touch at all.

Finally, Echo was acting like a human being instead of a cold, methodical killer. Oh, he knew without a doubt the man could and would kill, but he also knew Echo wouldn’t kill him. And right then, that was all that mattered.

That and Echo’s touch.

He felt irritated when Echo dropped his hand and stepped back.

“Are you still hungry?”

“I am,” Ice said, but food wasn’t what he was after.

“Okay, let’s get you back in bed and I’ll bring you some rolls I just made.”

Ice stayed quiet and let Echo get him back in bed. He wanted the man to stay and talk, but sleep was dragging him down and for the first time in his life, he cursed his damned body.

He needed to recover, and fast. He wanted Echo in his bed. They had a lot of catching up to do.

They also had a killer to catch.