Page 60 of Echo, the Sniper (Men of PSI #2)

Three months later

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Rory

“H YDE PARK WOULD MAKE more sense if you’re going to U of C this June.

” The real estate agent eyed me cautiously as we moved up the cement walkway toward the three-story red brick townhouse with a Mansard-style roof and loads of decks and balconies.

“In fact, I have several listings that’s perfect for college students looking to rent.

Very affordable and in relatively safe neighborhoods close to campus.

Has that real college vibe, you know? Totally slays. ”

“I’m at Hyde Park now,” I said, though that wasn’t strictly true. While I did rent a small apartment in Hyde Park the moment I hit Chicago three months ago, for the past month I’d spent almost every night at Echo’s place. Then I glanced at my smartwatch when it buzzed against my wrist.

“Almost there.”

I smiled at Echo’s text before returning my attention to the real estate agent.

Earl Oakhead was middle-aged, though he seemed to be unaware of it, and had a huge linebacker body that had gone to seed.

There was something about him that reminded me of Edward Terwilliger.

Maybe it was the height, or the pinky rings.

Or maybe it was that unmistakable aura of condescension.

Yeah. That was it.

“In fact, Mr. Oakhead, it’s the college-town atmosphere I’m hoping to steer clear of.

” I eyed the security kiosk that was the proverbial gatekeeper to the whole complex.

Nice. Echo would appreciate that added layer of security.

“I’m not big on the party scene, and this neighborhood has just as many walkable destinations as the place I’m living in now.

Also, I’m interested in buying, not renting, as I believe my contact email stated when I saw this listing. ”

“Uh-huh, right. Right.” Oakhead shifted a thin vinyl binder—no doubt holding papers outlining the particulars of the townhouse I wanted to see—from one hand to the other.

For some reason, he didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to actually let me see it.

“Just so you know, the down payment alone for this particular property would be in the ballpark of $200K. You’re young, so trust the voice of experience here—renting makes so much more sense at your age and where you’re at in life. ”

That caught my attention. “Where I’m at?”

“You know, spreading your wings after just leaving the nest, dreaming those sparkly big dreams but not yet dialed in to the reality of how the adult world works. Believe me, I remember how it is. It was only a couple years ago that I was exactly where you are now—getting that first taste of freedom and thinking I could get whatever I wanted. But the reality is, I couldn’t. ”

Yep. Big Edward Terwilliger energy of not taking me seriously. FML . “Not to be snarky, but it was more than a couple years ago for you. Like, a lot more. And trust me, you’ve never been exactly where I’m at . I know what I want, Mr. Oakhead, and I’m very serious about getting it.”

Again the binder switched hands and stayed well out of my reach.

“Yeah, yeah, I totally get that. I mean, this property is great, just awesome. Heck, I’d like to get my hands on it, too, but um, you know, the reality is you can’t always get what you want, unless.

.. do you have some sort of special financial backing?

Like, do your parents know you’re here? Or your husband?

Do they know you’re looking at properties to buy, and not rent? ”

Annnnd there it was, his misogyny on parade, complete with waving red flags and all the alarms you could shake a stick at. If I didn’t punch this man before the day was through, it would be a miracle.

“I’ve been out of my parents’ home for years, Mr. Oakhead, and I’ve survived far more than you can ever imagine.

I don’t need anyone’s permission to make big decisions, and I don’t need anyone else’s money to finance them.

If you’re trying to talk yourself out of a big commission, you’re doing an excellent job. ”

I felt a ridiculous amount of satisfaction in watching Oakhead’s jaw literally drop as I called him on his bullshit. “No, you misunderstand my concern, so let’s not get emotional about it—”

“Stop.” Smiling, I held up a single finger.

“Stop digging. I didn’t misunderstand anything, and I know you’re concerned.

You’re concerned about whether I’m a serious buyer or someone who’s wasting your time.

But you see, Mr. Oakhead, that’s why the company you work for runs background checks and financial reports on every client they show properties to.

I know I passed all your company’s criteria because I’m here now.

Your company knows I’m serious. Yet for some reason, you still feel it’s necessary to take it upon yourself to interrogate me. Why is that?”

“I wasn’t interrogating you. It’s just that you’re... so...”

“Yes?” When he turned an alarming red and opened his mouth several times without words coming out, I sighed.

I didn’t have time for this. “I really am interested in this property. If I weren’t, I would have already walked away, so why don’t you open that binder and start telling me about it.

Let’s just be professional from here on in, shall we? ”

I kept my expression neutral as he blustered defensively for about another thirty seconds before he stumbled over the enormous obstacle that was his fragile male ego and got down to business.

A year ago, a middle-aged man would have had me convinced that I was the problem, not him, and I probably would have apologized a dozen times already.

Thankfully that whipped version of me was long gone.

I now knew I wasn’t to blame when people made assumptions about me that lessened me, put me down, or made me smaller than I was.

That was on them. It had taken a long time, loads of therapy that was still ongoing, and loving encouragement from the man in my life, but I now knew who I was.

I knew my worth. I was the one in control of my narrative, and I didn’t apologize for my strength.

If others were threatened by that, that was their problem, not mine.

As Earl Oakhead discussed square footage, outdoor living spaces and HOAs—then had the audacity to slowly and carefully explain what the letters HOA stood for—Echo showed up. As he approached, I couldn’t help but look him up and down with an appreciative gaze.

Damn, he was hot.

With his long legs encased in tight black workout pants, and his torso lovingly sculpted thanks to a red and black short-sleeved compression shirt, I had to consciously keep myself from drooling.

He looked like a statue come to life, and suddenly my hands ached to explore all those carved, bulging muscles.

Not that I didn’t know every inch of him already. But still.

“So? How long did it take?” I asked with a smile as he approached, watching him peel off his sunglasses before he reached for me.

“Sixteen minutes.” He bent and kissed me, uncaring about PDAs. Echo was as dedicated to showing me that I was his main priority as I was showing him the same, and it made my heart soar. “Much better than my current half-hour commute. You?”

“Eighteen, though I caught every red light from U of C to here. I’d say this is as close to halfway between the university and PSI as we’re going to get.

We were just going over the basics, with this dude mansplaining how I need parents or a husband around to make my big decisions like buying property, and I was heroically not throat-punching him.

He’s going to be so thrilled a man has shown up to make this a Very Serious Meeting. ”

“Really?” Echo’s soft gaze hardened, and he looked over at the agent with that deadly, thousand-yard sniper stare.

I was with Echo when he’d gotten his twentieth confirmed-kill hashmark tattoo—Dane’s mark, though I never called it that out loud—and I had a feeling Echo was contemplating getting a twenty-first. “This should be fun.”

“We’re just going to get through this, babe. I love the location.”

“Mm-hm.” His glare intensified.

Oh, well.

There were so many upsides to the property, it was almost easy to ignore the jerk of an agent.

The townhouse was even better than I’d imagined.

It had everything—a galley kitchen with new stainless-steel appliances and a six-burner convection oven I immediately fell in love with.

There was another kitchenette under a covered section of the large deck overlooking the canal the townhouse backed up to, including a professional-looking grill and smoker, minifridge and ice maker.

In the short time that I’d been in Chicago, I’d learned that Echo’s chosen family at PSI often gathered at each other’s houses for get-togethers.

Big games, barbecues, birthdays, even the completion of difficult missions were all the excuses they needed to enjoy each other’s company.

When we hit that party deck, I could see Echo checking it out with interest, probably imagining all the entertaining we could do, and I couldn’t help but smile.

My man might have described himself as a loner, but he was never alone, and he was clearly loved by the people in his life.

But none more so than me.

“West Loop’s Canal Street is a thriving community.

” Oakhead spoke to Echo as he joined me in the small loft area outside of what clearly was the massive master suite.

“Did you know this unit comes with both garage parking for your main wheels and a space for a bike? You like Harleys, right? Also, there are no less than three sports bars within walking distance from where we’re standing right now.

Oh, and just around the corner there’s a gym that’s open twenty-four hours.

You look like a man who likes to keep in shape.

How much do you bench-press, my brother? ”