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Ice smiled.
Snick.
Echo pulled the trigger and shot him.
The bullet punched hard.
The pain took his breath away.
With a stunned expression, Ice gaped at him across the short distance.
For a moment, a blank look swept over Ice’s face before the man looked down at the bullet hole in his shirt.
Then Ice stumbled and grabbed the railing.
Echo didn’t approach. Instead, he watched as Ice slid down to his ass and pressed a hand to his abdomen.
Lifting his gun, Echo pointed it at Ice’s head and waited until the assassin looked up. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact staring him in the face. It had been Ice who had videoed him doing a hit! He knew he was going to kill someone he recognized on this pier tonight, but never in a million years would he have thought it would be Ice.
What the fuck had Ice been thinking?
He knew the man had been searching for him, but was the video the only way to get his attention? Was this Ice’s way of courting?
It didn’t matter.
If a person jeopardized the company, they were history, plain and simple, and the rule was to have them retired.
Permanently.
Ice mouthed something at him and Echo squinted, trying to read his lips, his finger still on the trigger. When Ice whispered this time, Echo knew and clenched his teeth.
Echo.
Why the hell had Ice spoken his name? Did he think that saying his name would personalize this shit? There were real consequences for being a traitor in this business.
“This dance is over.” He spoke just loud enough for Ice to hear him across the distance.
Ice swallowed hard and lifted his hand to press fingers to his throat, leaving a trail of blood.
Echo could leave and let Ice bleed out, but he wasn’t that cold hearted. He’d end it quickly. He should have already ended it. His finger was still on the fucking trigger.
Ice nodded as if sensing his hesitation and then closed his eyes. Something hard tightened in Echo’s chest, and all he could think of was why? Why the fuck did Ice do this?
Echo’s cell phone buzzed and he almost ignored it. It was probably Solomon or Wrath trying to get in touch with him, but it rang insistently.
Irritated, he tugged it out while holding the gun on Ice in case the assassin was faking it. He wouldn’t give the man a chance to slip away. What Ice had done was going to cost him his life.
Echo answered it.
“Is it done?” The robotic voice was unexpected.
Echo forgot to breathe.
His eyes flipped wildly around and then up and over to Ice. The man still sat with his hands, palms upward, lax at his sides.
What Ice didn’t have in either hand was a phone.
No phone.
