Chapter Seven

Two months later…October 2023

The next time Ice located Echo, he didn’t approach the assassin.

He had been sent to find Echo for a reason and he didn’t want the man running like he had that night on the beach. When he recalled that night, he could still feel Echo’s hips in his hands and remembered the wild look of pleasure on his face. His chest grew tight, and he wondered how much longer Echo would evade him.

Shaking off his infatuation that bordered on fixation, he turned his thoughts to Solomon’s request.

From where Ice sat hidden between a retaining wall and an industrial trash can, he had a clear view of the wharf below. The shoreline just off the Washington State coast was deserted and dark. Two men walked down the wooden boards and approached a bobbing skiff.

Ice followed them with his eye to the scope of his rifle.

Somehow, he needed to get close enough to Echo to call off the hit. Maybe if he put a bullet close to the assassin, he’d get the idea that he wasn’t alone. Ice squeezed the trigger and sent the bullet cleaving into the wood right next to where he knew the assassin was standing.

Like water, Echo melted away.

The man disappeared so completely, Ice couldn’t see him.

Grit whined and Ice rubbed at the top of the dog’s head. “Don’t worry, boy, he’ll find me.” Ice knew that as sure as he knew his own name Echo would be there very soon. Ice quickly broke down his rifle and tucked it away, then he put his back to the wall and waited.

The conversation he’d had with Solomon weighed heavy on his mind.

The hit had been all kinds of wrong and he’d gone to Wrath when shit didn’t add up.

“This is fucked up,” Wrath muttered, looking at the encrypted website that kept their info plus a list of open and closed jobs. “You need to take this to Solomon.”

Ice had been close to the office, so he’d gone straight there.

Solomon had given an annoyed look.

“Just check it,” Ice said.

With a scowl, Solomon turned to his laptop, and Ice waited patiently. He moved to make a pot of coffee on the table that sat against one wall just inside Solomon’s large office.

Several minutes later, Solomon made a sound of disgust. “You’re right. This doesn’t look legit.”

“Whose hit is it?” Ice had asked, pouring a cup of coffee before the pot could finish brewing. He sipped at the hot brew and eyed his boss.

“Echo’s.”

“What did he say?” Ice leaned forward.

“He’s gone dark. Not responding to my emails or texts to the burner. I don’t suppose you want to go to the hit site and tell him to wait until I double-check things?”

“Yeah. I’ll handle it.”

Solomon squinted at him. “Just tell him to call me.”

Ice placed his half-empty cup on the table and walked out.

Tipping his head to listen, Ice waited for Echo to show up. There wasn’t any sound of footsteps approaching, nor even a shifting of the air. There was nothing save the waves from the ocean and a few boats knocking against the dock. Yet, Ice instantly knew he was no longer alone when Grit suddenly stood from sitting. Dog’s hearing was great that way. Even at nine months old, Grit was poised and still, laser focused on something in the dark. It showed that the guard and tactical training Ice had been doing with Grit over the past few months had paid off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Echo snarled, stepping out from the shadows.

“Solomon sent me. The hit has been canceled.” Like hell he’d tell Echo to call Solomon. Their boss rubbed him the wrong way for some reason.

Echo got in his face, so fucking close that Ice was tempted to kiss those full lips. Fuck…he’d give anything just to taste them one more time.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m telling you, Solomon called it off.”

“I think you’re lying,” Echo sneered, clearly not believing him.

Ice squinted down into the man’s face. “You’re wrong.”

Echo snorted. “You just don’t have the balls for this type of work. Why don’t you take your dog home and sit this one out, huh? I’ll take it from here.”

“Solomon said no.”

“I’m not putting this off.”

“We don’t know if the facts are legit,” Ice murmured.

“What the fuck does that matter?” Echo snapped, inches from him.

“It matters,” Ice whispered, his throat going tight.

“You’re fucking dreaming. The request came in. I’m doing the hit.”

“Echo, don’t.” Ice made the mistake of reaching for the killer.

Echo stabbed him and Grit sprang up, snapping at the slender man even though Ice hadn’t given a command.

“Hold!” Ice ordered Grit and the dog sank immediately to his stomach with his haunches tense and a low rumble from his throat.

“Oww, shit.” It wasn’t the first nor he imagined the last knife wound he’d get from Echo, but this one had gone deep. Really deep.

He thought about keeping his distance, but changed his mind and launched forward. He knocked Echo’s knife hand. He should have known it wasn’t going to work because the blade stayed firmly in the assassin’s grip. Ice didn’t give a fuck, he clamped his hand over Echo’s wrist, pushed it wide, and brought the slighter man to his chest with an arm around his waist.

They mashed together.

Chest to chest, groin to groin.

His side burned and ached, but Ice had only one goal above the pain.

The kiss this time was even more explosive than the one in the water. Tongues tasted, laved, and sucked. Lips were bruised, bitten, and rubbed until Ice had to lift his head to breathe.

Echo’s arm came down with a sinister strike and Ice barely had time to dodge before the knife struck.

He’d almost been cut again.

“Quit fucking doing that,” Echo spat.

“Why?” Ice wiped at his mouth and at the same time, pulled his shirt away from where the blood was soaking the material and running down into his jeans.

“Next time, I’ll cut your fucking throat.”

“Again. Why? I like you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I want to know you,” Ice murmured. Feeling slightly lightheaded, he kept a wary eye on the blade.

Echo was a killer and at any moment, the man could put that knife in his throat.

“No. You don’t want to know me.” Something dangerous and hard flashed in the dark depths of Echo’s eyes and Ice wondered what kind of hell the man had lived through to make him so closed off from humanity.

“Don’t you want a friend?” Ice kept his voice light even though his throat was closing around a lump of pain.

“I don’t need a friend.” Echo ran his eyes over Ice, from his blond hair to his blue eyes. His gaze drifted to the blood growing on the man’s shirt and his lips tightened. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He gave a jerk of his chin to the knife wound. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“This?” Ice glanced down. “It’s nothing…” he said, looking up and then swayed.

Echo was now several yards away from him.

Ice stayed where he was. Mainly, because he didn’t want to die, but also, he didn’t want to fall.

Echo took a few steps away and then darted a look over one shoulder.

“Echo.” He said the man’s name on a breath and took one step forward.

“Don’t follow me. Don’t contact me, and for fuck’s sake, don’t think I’m your friend.”

The killer disappeared into the shadows and Ice immediately pressed harder against his side. He jostled with his cell phone to his ear and almost dropped it from his slippery grip. Blood coated his cheek and he knew he was getting it everywhere, but he was running out of time.

“What’s up, Iceman?” Seven said, answering on the first ring.

Ice had to smile at his best friend’s greeting. “Can you come pick me up and take me to Harbor General?” He rattled off the address.

“What the fuck happened?” Seven snarled.

“I’ll tell you on the way,” he promised and sank to his ass on the ground. Grit pressed close with a constant whine.

Seven and Hunter were among the few people he’d ever share any of this stuff with.