Page 37 of Echo, the Sniper (Men of PSI #2)

Stupid

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C OME TO FIND OUT, FOGGING up car windows was actually a thing.

By the time Echo left the SUV after one in the morning, with the interior lights off and making the vehicle part of the night-black space he’d managed to park in, nothing could be seen out of the windows.

I had to struggle against the urge to wipe the frosted condensation away so that I could look out.

Echo swore he didn’t need a lookout, and he claimed that doing anything to the fogged windows would broadcast to the world that there was someone inside.

Since I was hiding from whoever was trying to kill me, this was a definite no-no in his book.

But it was like being stuck inside a frosted-over soap bubble. At the bottom of a well. At midnight.

This night was going to last forever.

Echo’s parting suggestion that I take this downtime to grab a nap would have been hilarious if it hadn’t hit like the tiniest bit of an insult.

Like I was a fragile little girl who needed a comfy blankie and naptime while the adult in the room took care of things.

Honestly, it was like he didn’t even know me.

Then again, maybe he didn’t know me. Not really.

I grimaced. If I was just going by a calendar, Echo and I had known each other for less than a week.

Yet, from the moment we met on the sidewalk in front of my burning house, we had spent almost every waking moment together.

That was more than weeks’ worth of dating, and more often than not, our time together had been filled with tension and stress that put a spotlight on a person’s true character, including their flaws.

But as far as I could see, Echo’s flaws were far outweighed by his countless strengths.

For instance, I’d found out he didn’t like flavored popcorn.

Movie theater-style popcorn was it for him because he was an inflexible traditionalist, but that was okay because that meant more cheese popcorn for me.

He also sometimes left the toilet seat up, but I knew how to put it down.

And he always distanced himself whenever he needed to talk on the phone—usually a red flag, but since every call he’d taken in my presence had been from PSI, I could understand it.

The logical side of me insisted I couldn’t have fallen for someone in just a matter of days; that love at first sight was nothing more than a fairy tale.

And it didn’t help that part of me was still convinced my relationship with Echo was nothing more than forced proximity doing a lot of the heavy lifting.

But it wasn’t just forced proximity or my overheated imagination that made our attraction for each other so insanely hot. It had been there from the moment I’d looked into his eyes. I’d just been in too much shock at the time to recognize it.

It also wasn’t the so-called bodyguard crush. I understood the logic behind such a syndrome; it would be so easy to mistake professional protectiveness for personal caring. I knew Echo protected me on a professional level.

I also knew he was sleeping with me on a personal one.

Yes, that made for a seriously complicated relationship that wasn’t altogether healthy, but apparently I wasn’t the kind of girl who needed healthy.

Sad but true.

I also didn’t know what Echo felt for me other than lust and heavy-duty attraction, but that was okay. All that mattered was now , getting through each day alive, finding the person who wanted me dead, and enjoying everything I could about Echo while he was in my life.

I wasn’t going to ask for more than that.

And there it was. I didn’t expect promises of happily-ever-after from Echo when this crazy era of my life was over.

After such a disastrous first marriage to Dane, I wasn’t even sure I’d want to try marriage again.

But being together while we went about living our best lives without pressure or expectations?

Yes, please.

Since there was no way I could take a nap, I pulled out my phone and hid it under the shroud of my jacket so no one would be able to see the telltale glow of a phone screen.

Telling myself it didn’t hurt to look, I typed rental properties in Chicago in the search bar just as a shadow flitted across the fogged windows on the other side of the vehicle.

I froze so hard it felt like even the blood in my veins had come to a standstill.

Echo?

No, it couldn’t be. He’d been gone less than ten minutes. And he said he’d text me when he was on his way back, specifically so he wouldn’t jump-scare me.

Like the way I was jump-scared now.

Maybe it was just a neighbor walking their bladder-challenged doggo, I reasoned, listening as hard as I could for any sound. Or maybe it was a reckless teen looking to get into some mischief on this frigid night. The hubcaps alone on this SUV would garner some decent pocket money if—

The sound of someone trying to open the door next to me scared me so hard it hurt.

No!

Echo’s name trembled on my lips as I stared at the silhouette of a man through the frosted-over glass, and that was where it died.

If Echo were climbing back into the vehicle, he would have texted me to know he was coming back, then he would have hit the locks and alarm. I would have heard that happen...

Wait.

Had Echo locked the doors on his way out?

My heart dropped like a stone as I desperately tried to remember.

No.

He hadn’t locked the car up on his way out, no doubt due to not wanting the whole neighborhood hear the chirp that the car’s locks and security system would make.

So, what did this mean? I thought, trying to keep from freaking out. It meant I was sitting in a potentially unlocked car, at least on the driver’s side. I was alone. Someone wanted me dead. And someone was right outside, trying to get in.

Don’t panic .

That warning blared through my brain even as panic tried to lock me in a chokehold.

I had to think , because that was how I stayed alive.

I wouldn’t overreact. More than likely, this was probably someone hoping to boost the crap out of whatever they could from a nice car parked in a less-then-nice neighborhood.

That didn’t mean this wasn’t a dangerous situation.

Anyone stealing from cars didn’t concern themselves with following society’s rules.

If this was a thief, they were still dangerous.

It's not a thief.

Swallowing hard, I shut my eyes and tried to silence my inner freaked-out voice.

It’s not a thief. This isn’t a coincidence.

You know what this is.

“Shut up.” The words were no louder than a breath, and I looked down at my shaking hands.

I still held my phone, and everything in me screamed to text Echo—just a short 911.

That would certainly do the trick. He’d be here almost before I was done hitting send.

There was only one problem with that. Echo had warned me not to text or call him except in an extreme case of emergency since he was now lying in wait to incapacitate Josiah and Edward.

Even though he’d silenced his phone, he’d warned me that the mere lighting up of his phone’s screen could give his location away.

The thought of that made my blood run cold, so I’d sworn I wouldn’t contact him and put his life on the line.

Except in an extreme case of emergency.

Does this qualify as extreme?

I had no idea. Because it could just be a car thief. Or kids looking for trouble. Or...

Or my would-be killer.

Oh God .

One thing was certain. I absolutely would not put Echo’s life at risk.

He was out there, breaking into Edward and Josiah’s house, and I knew they were dangerous.

Edward had literally torn my Bentley apart with his bare hands.

Josiah was possibly the arsonist who tried to kill me with freaking fire .

It was two against one in that house. They were hardened, desperate criminals who’d do anything to keep out of prison.

The last thing I would do was compromise Echo’s position.

So what option did that leave me?

Handle it.

Cold sweat prickled my spine as that familiar phrase whispered in my ear.

Early on in my marriage I’d learned that asking for help was a weakness Dane had loved to taunt me with.

It had taken me no more than a month or so to realize I was better off on my own, and that two-word phrase had become my mantra— handle it .

Whatever happened, I wouldn’t give Echo a chance to think I was weak when I could take care of things myself.

I’d handle it.

Grimly I tucked my phone into my back pocket, if only to keep temptation away, then eyed the closed console between the front seats with a surge of burning frustration.

My wallet was in there. In a perfect world I’d sneak forward, open the console and root around from the backseat until I found it, but common sense stopped me.

The darkness and frosted windows shielded only so much.

Movement had given away the person trying to get in, so logic dictated that movement on my part would alert the person beyond my window that I was there. Trapped. Helpless.

No.

Not helpless.

A man had once made me feel helpless, but I knew better now.

I knew that if I wanted to be free, I had to fight for it.

If it was Josiah or Edward out there—and it looked like Josiah’s build rather than the giant that was Edward—they were used to the broken, timid mouse Dane had made me into.

They wouldn’t expect me to be a fighter.

But now that I’d gotten a taste of what it was like to live free of fear and intimidation—to live a life where Echo was in it—I’d fight like the worst demon in hell to hold onto it.