TROUBLE , kaz brekker

vii. what happened to insulting his mother?

CHAPTER SEVEN

KAZ ALWAYS HEARD HER BEFORE he saw her. She had a habit of taunting you with her presence before you'd seen her face. With her hair and her dresses and her tendency to cause more problems than she solved, it seemed Echo Caddel wanted to be unforgettable. Maybe one day, Kaz would work out why.

But this time was different. This time, he didn't notice her stumble into the Crow Club until she was shivering at the bar. There were no dramatics, no masquerade, only the sound of her fighting to keep breath in her lungs as she downed a shot of whatever the barman had poured her faster than Kaz would have thought possible.

And then he saw the blood.

It slathered the finery of her gown, crimson mixed with salt water that stained her skin like a tattoo. She was clutching her stomach like a wounded animals with a feral look in her eyes that made her look mad. But he supposed they both were.

If he were another man, he wouldn't hesitate. He'd take her arm as she stumbled from the weight of her water-logged clothes. He'd push the sodden red strands that clung to her cheek and tuck them around her ear. He'd offer comfort, solace, anything other than emptiness and a distance that seemed to speak louder than he ever could.

It infuriated him and even though Kaz knew it was futile, there was a small part of him that wanted to take her arm as Jesper had done countless times, even if it was through the cold touch of his gloves. He raised an arm, reaching towards her and Echo looked at him with this indescribable emotion in her eyes. She didn't say a word and just waited. Waited for the tender sensation of his clothed skin against hers. But it never came. Because then she was just another bloated body in the river and a sickness rose in his stomach faster than he could draw his arm away.

Kaz stepped back. Echo mirrored his motions.

"Who did this." He muttered darkly.

"It doesn't matter."

It did matter.

At his silence, Echo looked into his eyes. "Whoever they were, they're dead. Leave it, Kaz."

If he were a better man, perhaps he could find the strength to apologise for the words that had forced her out of the sanctuary of the Crow Club to begin with. He'd seen the hurt flash in her eyes as she walked away from him, no matter how much she masked it with anger and rage and hatred. But he wasn't a better man. He was a criminal with no time to console girls and their tears. He didn't need her forgiveness.

He also didn't need her sympathy, which is why his encounter with Pekka Rollins went unmentioned. Kaz knew Echo could see the wisps of a confrontation that lingered on his person. His limp was more exaggerated, his brow was damp with sweat but, to her merit, Echo kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to ask questions because she knew damn well that Kaz had a few of his own.

"I found a lead." Kaz lowered his voice. "On the Fold."

Another glass hit the bar and Echo slanted the barman an adoring look as she lifted the drink to her lips. "Looks like you didn't need me after all."

He might have told her how wrong her statement was, if it hadn't been for the ever looming deadline that hovered over their shoulders. "Some Ravkan refugee. Said she was from the West but..." He trailed off into silence.

"But?" Echo repeated, her green eyes holding his over the rim of her glass as she downed it in one fluid movement.

"She counted her kruge like you do." Kaz shrugged. "She was from the East."