Page 46 of Echo, the Sniper (Men of PSI #2)

“No, I don’t, because none of this applies to me.

The only criminal in my life, a horrible man I never should have married, is dead.

He didn’t get disappeared by the US Marshals.

He died right in front of me, complete with more blood than I’ve ever seen in my life.

I understand Dane had a lot of enemies—a man like him naturally made them as he crimed and slimed his way through life.

But I know exactly where he is. He’s buried in Bright Haven Cemetery.

I should know, I went to his funeral. It was a sad affair, and not just because it was a funeral.

I was literally the only one who bothered to show up for it. ”

“Fuck,” Echo muttered, shaking his head before nailing Mary Jane with a hard look. “If that doesn’t convince you of what kind of human garbage we’re talking about, nothing will.”

“I don’t have to be convinced, Echo. I’m already there, which you very well know, considering our last conversation about this dickhead.”

“The dickhead being my late husband, a man who’s dead and buried,” I put in, starting to get pissed off.

I understood my past had to be an open book for the members of PSI to effectively guard me, but that didn’t mean I appreciated them talking about the crappy facets of my life behind my back.

“Dane Grant is dead and gone. Why would you even bother having a conversation about him? Why are we talking about him now?”

“Not everything is as it seems, I’m afraid,” Mary Jane said, a corner of her mouth tightening in a small grimace.

“Usually the Marshals extract their protectees from their lives quietly. A person goes to work as normal, the kiddies head off to school, the spouse drives off to do the weekly grocery shopping. Just another normal day. But then none of them ever come home. They’re simply gone from their lives, no muss, no fuss.

On rare occasions, though, if the circumstances are just right, the protectee’s death is faked so that none of the bad guys will go looking for them to silence them. ”

Agonizing alarm filled my veins in a sickening rush.

Death is faked ... “No. That didn’t happen to Dane.

What I saw... You don’t know what I saw.

It was real . He was shot in the chest by a sniper.

He flew backwards with the impact of it, and the blood.

.. There was so much blood, I still have nightmares about him being covered in it. It was real .”

“I’m sorry to hear you have nightmares about it, Rory, I truly am.

Because the fact is, that scene where Dane Grant was shot was staged.

The only thing that was real that day was your reaction to it.

Everything else was fake.” As Mary Jane spoke, she kept her gaze locked on mine, her bottle-green eyes filled with compassion, and pity.

Everything else...

No. It had to be a lie.

Everything else was...

I saw him die. I saw it.

Fake.

And she pitied me now.

FAKE.

It was the pity that made it real for me.

I shot to my feet, a fight-or-flight response if there ever was one. Though in that moment, I had no idea which one I wanted to do—fight, or flee. Both seemed like viable options.

Echo snapped to his feet as well, his hands clamping down on my shoulders. “Rory—”

“This can’t be happening.” The words screaming in my head tumbled off my lips, while my whole body begin to shake. “This is a nightmare. Oh God, please tell me this is a nightmare and I’m not still married to that hideous mother fucker .”

“Rory, no,” Echo all but shouted, and my eyes jerked frantically to him.

“Don’t you dare even think that, do you hear me?

Dane Grant is nothing more than a goddamn ghost as far as you’re concerned, because he was declared legally dead.

That can’t be undone. By law and every other measurement known to man, he’s dead and you’re a widow.

You’re not married to that fucking animal anymore, and your life has nothing to do with him now.

Nothing . I swear to Christ, you’re free of him. ”

“But... I’m not.” I was drowning in so much horror I barely realized I was shaking my head as I stared up at him. “If Dane is still alive, I’m never going to be free of him.”

“Then I’ll fucking kill him for real.”

“Like the good friend I am, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Mary Jane remarked, still seated at the table.

She eyed us with those smart eyes, not missing a thing.

“More to the point, Echo, I doubt you’ll ever get a chance to cross paths with Rory’s shitbird of an ex, because he’s down in Colorado Springs in some US Marshals field office throwing a tantrum while you’re all the way up here, in the lovely Rockies and just a stone’s throw away from some of the best skiing in the world.

You won’t get near him, and he’s not going to get anywhere near Rory. ”

“Then... wait.” Again, I shook my head, as if it would help make all my scattered thoughts settle down. It didn’t. “Why are you telling me about this, if not to push me to meet up with him?”

“I need your consent to let the US Marshals know that you’re alive and well and in no need of their protection,” came the immediate reply. “Apparently Grant somehow heard there have been attempts on your life, and he’s demanding that the Marshals bring you in under their protection with him.”

“Absolutely not,” Echo shot back, his scowl so dangerous I wondered how Mary Jane didn’t flinch .

“The moment that fucker signed the papers to have only himself extracted from the shit life he’d built for himself, he willingly cut all ties to Rory.

He pulled that move himself, chose to have himself declared legally dead, so he has no fucking claim on her now. ”

“He saved himself, but left me behind?” I put a hand to my stomach to calm the queasy drop it just made. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Dane had abandoned me to deal with his mess, but I was. “Wow. That’s so... typical.”

Mary Jane tilted her curly head. “It’s true that he chose to leave you behind, which was... a choice. But obviously he’s feeling remorseful about that decision now.”

“What do you mean?” The Dane I knew never had a remorseful day in his life.

“According to Grant’s handler—the guy who contacted PSI early this morning—Dane Grant is threatening to come back to Denver in order to protect you, a move that would undo all the work the Marshals have done to keep him away from the people he’s slated to testify against. People who would do anything to put him in a grave, this time for real. ”

“They can take a fucking number,” Echo said bluntly.

I struggled to get through the mental chaos of shock and upset to get to the heart of the matter. “So... what you’re saying is, the US Marshals Service would like for me to pacify Dane, because he’s throwing a tantrum?”

Mary Jane grimaced again. “Pretty much.”

“Well, that’s too bad for them. He’s no longer my responsibility.

” And not for one minute did I believe that Dane—for the love of God, Dane —was worried about my wellbeing.

If anything, he was probably more concerned about his precious offshore account and all the information about it that was embedded inside my head.

An account I was suddenly, rabidly determined he would never get his hands on.