Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Stay here,” Echo whispered and melted away.

If there was one thing he knew for sure about Rogue, it was the fact that his brother would not hurt him—at least not seriously.

They’d played this game during Solomon’s training and if he could just get close enough, he would be able to snag one of Rogue’s knives. He knew where every single one of them were. Or better yet, have Rogue throw one at him.

Echo spider climbed up a stack of wooden crates and crouched at the top.

“Hey, Rogue.”

The assassin spun, eyes darting around.

“Up here,” Echo called out.

Rogue finally located him. “What did you do!”

Echo shrugged, staying on the balls of his feet in a crouched position, he bounced slightly on his perch and grinned.

“Where are they?” Rogue spat, stepping toward him.

“They are long gone.”

“Your mistake was in not going with them.” His brother’s voice turned flat.

“Still carry that nine-millimeter?”

Rogue’s face suddenly resembled stone beneath the bright cage lights, his expression giving nothing away. “I would never shoot you.”

“You might have to,” Echo said conversationally.

“Why?” Rogue’s voice turned hoarse. “Why don’t you stay here with me? I won’t lock you up again. It can be like before.” The man’s voice cracked.

Echo briefly closed his eyes. His friend was so far under Solomon’s influence that he wasn’t sure he’d ever break away. He felt so fucking bad, and guilty, and pissed off all at the same time.

“And do what, Rogue? Snatch children who already have a fucked-up life and make it worse?”

“It’s not worse,” Rogue argued. “They get food and a safe place to stay.”

“When they aren’t being tortured by a piece of rebar and limited food,” Echo added. “Oh, and let’s not forget…forced to kill.”

“It’s not like it was with us. I make sure they get food.” Rogue’s hands fisted.

“You always were a bleeding heart,” Echo reminded his brother.

“No…I’m not. That was your job.” Rogue shook his head.

“And how many times did you share your food with me and Fisher?”

There was a sudden tiredness that swept over Rogue’s face and it made Echo worry.

It was the look of defeat.

Rogue was on the verge of giving up and ending it all. Echo could see it. The weariness that went bone deep and with it, the urge to sleep and never wake up. And the hope that with that never-ending sleep there was a peace that came with it.

Echo shook his head and blinked back the prickle in his eyes. “You know, I’m just curious about something.”

“What?” Rogue frowned.

“When I shot Ice, why weren’t you there to make sure the job was done?”

Rogue glanced away.

“You couldn’t do it. I guessed correctly. You couldn’t kill Ice because you knew that I would never forgive you.” Perhaps his brother thought that he would just kill Ice and be done with it. But Rogue had not factored in just how much he’d begun to care for Ice, even if he hadn’t yet realized it himself.

“I know you set us up. I know you replaced my bullets so I wouldn’t miss killing whomever it was. And I was even thankful that you’d done that when I left my apartment.”

Their gazes locked and held across the distance. Other than the one earlier step, Rogue hadn’t come any closer.

“But it wasn’t you, was it?” Echo said softly. “I bet my life that Solomon gave the order to kill Ice.”

Rogue glared at him across the distance with his chest heaving and hands fisted.

“He used you like a weapon because he couldn’t do it himself,” Echo continued. “You know why? Because he doesn’t have any fucking backbone. He’s a low life motherfucker who preys on children.”

Rogue’s face filled with pain, and he looked so much older than his thirty-two years. This was a hard life to begin with, having gone through what they had made it even harder.

Echo kept his eyes locked with Rogue’s, but he saw movement behind the assassin.

Fucking hell.

Cash came up from behind Rogue. The kid was going to get himself killed and he’d hate to see that.

But damn…the young assassin was pure poetry in motion. And super fucking quick. Cash didn’t have any weapons, so Echo hoped the kid had paid attention in hand-to-hand combat class.

To distract Rogue, Echo sat on the edge of the top crate and hung his leg over like he was going to jump. That did the job and Rogue widened his stance.

Rising up from the shadows from behind, Cash locked his arms around Rogue’s neck and jerked the assassin backward and off his feet.

Echo leaped from the box at warped speed, hit the ground running, and launched himself into the pair. The hit took them all to the ground and Echo rolled, jumping up. He kicked the gun further away from where Rogue had dropped it when they hit the ground.

Rogue jammed an elbow back into Cash, but the kid was strong and hung on. Rogue pulled a knife and Echo grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it away.

“Don’t hurt him,” Echo said, now holding the knife.

Rogue took both him and Cash by surprise when he abruptly stopped fighting and lay still. Echo knew that if Rogue had wanted to use all of his skills… Cash would be dead.

“Let me go, Cash,” Rogue croaked.

Cash lay flat on his back on the concrete and had his arms locked around Rogue’s neck and his legs around the man’s waist using a death grip.

Echo held Cash’s enraged and terrified gaze over Rogue’s shoulder. Echo snatched the nine-millimeter from the ground.

“It’s okay, he won’t hurt you,” Echo said.

Cash released his arms and legs and Rogue jumped to his feet. Cash wasn’t taking any chances and leaped away and disappeared into the dark.

“If Solomon checks the cameras, we’re all fucked,” Echo said, tucking the weapon into the back of his pants, but he kept the knife in his hand.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Rogue squeezed his hands into fists.

“Do the right thing, bro.”