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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 eachof 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.
