Chapter Five

Mid-August 2023

Ice never in a million years thought he’d see Echo again—much less have the man walk into a secret meeting at Creed’s house one warm California evening.

He launched himself across the distance, but Echo was out the door like his ass was on fire and Ice knew he had seconds to catch the assassin before he disappeared.

Flying over a fence, Ice rolled and came up running. He almost got a hold of Echo’s pant leg, but the material was too tight and a well-placed kick had Ice dodging back.

That was all it took.

Echo had spider-climbed the neighboring house and was up and flying across the roof before Ice had even cleared the gutters.

The assassin was poetry in motion with his slender build and compact height. The beanie Echo had ripped off his head after he came into Creed’s house had concealed messy dark hair, equally dark eyes, and full lips. The man looked exotic.

Ice ran flat out, but he had no hope of reaching the man. Echo was like catching quicksilver. Coming to a stop on the roof five houses down from where they’d started, Ice watched Echo’s flying form.

He smiled and touched his lips.

“You can run, but you can’t hide.”

It was amusing when he thought about it. The assassin had stabbed him and still ran.

What was Echo so afraid of?

“No matter, you’ll be back,” Ice said.

Ice gripped the railing when the yacht pitched in the churning water.

Repositioning himself on the boat’s roof, he laid flat and wedged his boots against the metal rung, balancing easily.

Port side, fifty yards out, waited a skiff with several men on board ready to rescue the three hostages they knew of on board.

Below Ice on the lower roof crouched Echo.

He’d been correct, Echo had reappeared when Creed needed him and as luck would have it, Solomon had ordered them to pair together to complete a hit.

That conversation had been a shit show.

“You two think you can stop your shit for an hour or two to get the job done?” Solomon had not looked happy.

“I have no beef.” Echo had crossed his arms and glared at Solomon.

“Like hell,” Ice snorted with disbelief.

Echo swung around and Ice took a step back. “You’re the one who can’t let things go, so why don’t you do your fucking job and leave me the hell alone.”

Ice gaped for a second and then snapped his mouth closed.

“That’s not exactly getting along.” Solomon grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine,” Ice said flatly.

“Whatever you do, Dave wants these trafficking sons of bitches wiped out,” Solomon interrupted before they could continue arguing. “Make it clean.”

“Always,” Ice said, giving Echo a challenging smirk.

“I know what I’m doing.” Echo glared.

“Do you?” Ice couldn’t resist goading the man. Damn if Echo wasn’t attractive when all heated up.

“You can bet your ass I do,” Echo hissed, wanting to punch the asshole in his smiling mouth. He fingered the blade at his side and Ice’s gaze dropped to the wicked slice of steel before they snapped up to his.

“Echo, stay after this meeting,” Solomon ordered.

That brought both assassins’ attention from each other back to their boss.

“No.”

“We need to talk about your last job.” Solomon frowned.

“No.” Echo glared, his voice cold.

“We can handle it,” Ice said, bringing Solomon’s attention back to him.

“If this job isn’t done right, you’re out of Erebus,” Solomon said, squeezing his hands into fists. “And I’ll be the one to do it.”

Ice smirked, noticing that Solomon hadn’t included Echo with that comment.

Handing cell phones and IDs to Solomon, they both walked away.

Ice caught up to Echo just outside of the warehouse. Grit got up from where he was waiting and galloped over to them. The pup was seven months old and huge for his age. He’d grown into the size of his paws. Although still young, Grit was highly trained and listened to him without launching into puppy mode. It had taken a lot of patience and twenty-four/seven repetition, but Ice hadn’t minded. He knew the more Grit learned and understood, the safer the dog would be in the field.

“What now?” Echo spun on him with a glare.

Ice shoved Echo back against the stucco and when Echo went to reach for a knife, Ice snatched the man’s hand and planted it against the building by his head.

“You’re asking for death.”

Ice smirked, he was a mere few inches from Echo, and the man’s chest lifted and fell.

“I’ve been courting death for years.”

“Who the fuck says words like that?” Echo scoffed. “Courting.”

“I’d like to court you,” Ice said, his eyes dropping down to Echo’s lips and at the same time, he snatched the man’s other wrist and knocked it against the building. This hand had a dagger in it as well and Ice would bet money that Echo would have stabbed him if he hadn’t anticipated the assassin.

Grit bared his teeth with a low rumble, but the dog would hold his position unless told otherwise. That had been one lesson that was now embedded in the pup’s head.

“Are you trying to get my attention?” Ice murmured, dropping his eyes to Echo’s lips.

“Get the fuck off me.” Echo twisted his wrist and dropped one of the daggers. It clanked to the ground and he managed to get his wrist free from Ice’s grip and shove against the man’s shoulder. Ice didn’t budge. Okay, so hand-to-hand combat wasn’t Echo’s thing, but he was going to gut this fucker the moment he had a chance. He gazed up into icy blue eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

Ice didn’t answer him. Instead, the man lunged in and pressed his mouth to his lips and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.

Startled, all Echo could do was blink in surprise and his lips parted. The kiss turned achingly hot, and the crazy thing was that he wanted to kiss Ice back. Panicking, he shoved again and managed to get his other hand free and used the side of his clenched fist around the blade and his other hand to shove Ice hard. The man stumbled back gazing at him, pupils blown, breathing hard.

“You fuck!”

Ice touched his lips and Echo was reminded of the feel against his.

“I’ll be seeing you, Echo,” Ice whispered and sauntered across the parking lot with his dog on his heels.

Echo wanted to throw a blade between the asshole’s shoulder blades. He wanted to slice him open and make him bleed.

Next time, he vowed! Next time, he would.

He turned away, his lips tingling, and hauled ass to his nondescript vehicle.

Watching Echo now on the yacht, Ice wanted another kiss, but he had a feeling that would cost him. He settled deeper into his spot and when Echo glanced up, Ice gave him a small wave. Although he couldn’t see Echo’s face, he could imagine the grimace and glare the assassin aimed at him.

“Asshole.” Echo clenched his jaw and turned away from the smug bastard. The sniper was all set for fuck knows what because using a rifle on a yacht was all kinds of stupid.

Whatever floats your boat, Echo thought. He preferred to kill from up close and personal.

When Ice jammed the ship’s electronics frequency so comms and cell phones became unusable, the man gave a slight signal, and Echo dropped down soundlessly to the deck. He needed to get close to his prey. He wanted to look into their eyes and see them turn blank.

It didn’t matter if they regretted their actions. Actions couldn’t be taken back like words could.

Actions had consequences.

Sliding the Ulu knife from his shoulder sheath, he gripped the knuckle handle and held the curved blade at the ready with his right hand. With his left, he ran his fingers along his belt, checking the six Doran dagger holsters. Each held three battle-ready Honshu Kunai blades. From there, he unsnapped the sheaths on each of his thighs with additional knives.

A guard with a fully loaded automatic rifle came down the passageway and Echo slid upwards, completely encased in black. When the man reached him, he struck. Four quick jabs to the lungs and the guy was done. Echo sliced the man’s throat open just for shits and giggles before he melted into the darkness.

From above, Ice watched as Echo delivered the killing jabs that would cause the lungs to collapse. The blur of the attack had been stunning. He’d seldom seen anyone faster or more deadly than Echo. He couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Echo moved on and Ice grimaced. The very fucking least the guy could have done was move the body from the walkway.

“Shit,” Ice muttered and placed his rifle on the roof. He climbed down from the top to the lower roof and from there, he followed Echo’s path and dropped down to the deck.

Reaching the dead guy, Ice sidestepped the dark pool of blood on the deck and grabbed the guy’s legs. Dragging the dead body over to the railing, he rolled it off the side. The slight splash was swallowed by the churning waves.

Ice ran hunched over back to pick up the man’s automatic rifle and chucked that over the side as well.

When he reached for the metal bar he used to climb back to his spot, he suddenly found Echo watching him. The man’s head was tipped just a bit as if questioning what he was doing.

That was when Echo pulled back his hood and smirked at him—right there in the entrance to the fucking hallway.

Fucking ass.

“Hide the fucking bodies,” Ice hissed with menace. “Otherwise, our target won’t come out.”

“Hiding bodies is not my style,” Echo whispered and flipped his wrist.

The dagger came fast and landed in the fiberglass next to his hand, so close that Ice felt the bite of steel.

Shit!

He should have fucking expected it, but he hadn’t been careful enough. It could have been a lot worse, but he’d thought they were past this point.

“Motherfucker. Quit doing that,” he snarled, shaking at the sting in his hand, but Echo was already gone.

Was that a snicker?

He must be imagining things. Echo didn’t laugh, or smile, and he never ever played nice.

Ice pulled Echo’s dagger from the boat and tucked it into his boot. He was keeping this one along with the others. Maybe someday, Echo would run out of knives. Yeah, like that would ever happen. The killer probably had stock in those companies. Ice shook his hand again and sucked at the drop of blood coming from the cut.

He hauled ass upward and retook his spot on the top roof. Another guard came down the opposite side from where Echo had killed the first one. Ice lifted the sniper rifle and released his breath.

Snick.

When the bullet entered the man’s head, he dropped like a stone. Just about ready to go down there, he saw Echo emerge and stand over the body. The assassin used his foot to roll the body over the side along with the rifle.

Ice smiled. He so badly wanted comms between them, but it wasn’t their thing. He wanted Echo to become his thing, but like always, the assassin eluded him.

Things were not going like he’d imagined, but there was a reason for it.

Echo had no time for anything but killing.

Rolling to his back, Ice checked his weapon and then sat up.

Echo climbed up and over the top roof and crouched near his feet.

Their gazes held in the darkness.

“I found the victims. They’re being held in the galley.”

“Are you asking for my help?” Ice smirked.

Echo’s eyes narrowed and he lowered his hand to the daggers lining his sides. “Do I need to?”

Ice held up his hand and shook his head. Rather than answer and risk another dagger, he rolled to his feet.

Pulling the knife at his thigh, Echo held it out to Ice. When the guy didn’t take it, Echo let out an annoyed sound.

“I have my own,” Ice said and pulled a knife from the back of his pants.

“Not a very safe place to keep that.”

Ice lifted his shirt, showing a black leather knife sheath that Echo hadn’t seen before.

“Custom made?”

Ice smirked and gestured for Echo to go first.