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“We?”
“Yeah, I found some of the kids and I took them.”
The laugh Ice almost let out bordered on a sob. “Of course you did.”
“So…we need a ride.” He could hear the smile in Echo’s voice.
“Whose cell phone are you on?” Ice said.
“Rogue’s.”
“Where is he? Is he right there listening? If he is, just tell me what I was wearing when you ran to me on the beach.”
“If he were listening, he’d hear me say you were wearing a stupid hat,” Echo teased and Ice thought his heart would jump out of his chest. “And trust me, he is not here.”
“I’m almost to my SUV.”
“What were you doing?”
“It’s a long story and I’ll fill you in when I see you, but it’s going to take well over an hour to get there. Is there somewhere safe you can go?”
He pressed his earpiece before Echo could answer. “Wrath, I have Echo on the phone. I need to pick him up.”
“Copy.”
“Yes,” Echo was saying. “There’s plenty of places to hide around here. Plus, it’s still dark so we should be okay.”
“I want you to tell me a landmark and then toss that phone. There could be a locator app on it,” Ice ordered.
“Don’t worry, I disabled it.”
He’d forgotten for a moment just who he was dealing with.
“Please destroy and toss it. Just in case he put several backups on it,” he pleaded.
“Okay,” Echo said softly.
“Hang tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Echo ended the call and Ice careened around the corner and into the parking structure. He plowed into someone who stepped in his way. The hit knocked the other person back and that was because he wasn’t a small man, and definitely had height on the other person…who was none other than Fisher.
Fucking Fisher with a silencer in his fist.
Ice didn’t wait, he slammed his hand down on the top of Fisher’s gun arm and knocked it out of his way. He’d heard about Fisher’s fighting skills from Creed and Owen and he may not win this fight, but Fisher was going to have to kill him.
Grit launched up snarling.
“No, down,” Ice barked. No way in hell did he want his dog shot at close range. Grit snarled, but lowered his belly to the concrete.
Ice snap kicked at Fisher’s gun hand, trying to get the assassin to lose his grip. It didn’t work. Locking both of his hands around Fisher’s wrist, Ice pointed the gun upward.
Fisher delivered several blows to his side. Each jab sent pain splintering into his ribs.
“Don’t do this, Fish. I found Echo,” he growled, holding onto that gun arm with every bit of power he had. And he had a lot. In an arm-wrestling match, he would have won hands down, but this was different—Fisher was deadly.
Up and out of nowhere, Justice finally arrived. Wrapping an arm around Fisher from behind, Justice, who was bigger than both him and Fisher, closed his hand around the gun in Fisher’s grip.
“Fisher.” Justice squeezed the arm around Fisher’s waist and kept his hand clamped around Fisher’s gun hand.
