Echoes at Dawn (KGI #5)(52)

She had no idea what to say to that so she remained silent.

“My point is that even in olden times, the wisest of men believed that everyone had a purpose and that there is a time for everything under the sun. This is your time to heal. To grow stronger. And then one day the time will come when your purpose will be revealed. It may naleble, serioot be today or tomorrow or even next year. But I don’t believe in accidents of nature. You were given this gift. Your sister was given her ability. For a reason.”

Her mouth turned down. “But we weren’t born. We weren’t God’s creation at all. We were conceived in some petri dish in some cold, sterile lab where they wanted to replicate instances of special abilities occurring in the human populace. They hoped by mixing the right genes together that they’d create something extraordinary.”

He smiled and touched his finger to her lips. “You don’t think He had any hand in it whatsoever? Just because you weren’t conceived the old-fashioned way doesn’t mean your purpose isn’t any greater. What if He decided to take something bad and make it good? Look at what Shea did for Nathan. And for Swanny. They’re alive because of her. Never underestimate your value, Grace. Or your purpose. You were put on this earth for a reason. You’re here with me now for a reason.”

He curled a thick strand of her hair around his finger and tugged slightly. “Has it ever occurred to you that you’re here for me?”

Her eyebrows went up. What could she say to that? So she turned it back instead. “And maybe your purpose was to save me.”

He smiled. “Maybe so. Maybe we’ll end up saving each other.”

“Why do you need saving, Rio? Who are you? Is Rio your real name?”

Some of the light dimmed in his eyes and his lips flatlined. He went silent and his fingers slowly drifted from her hair. Then he grimaced. “My real name is Eduardo Bezerra. There, I’ve told you something that most other living people don’t know.”

Her brow wrinkled. “You don’t look like an Eduardo. Rio suits you. But how did you get the name?”

“Everyone usually ends up with a nickname in the military. My father was American. My mother was Brazilian. I was born in Rio de Janeiro, but we moved with him back to the U.S. when I was very young. I joined the military right out of high school. When I entered Black Ops, I ceased to exist as Eduardo Bezerra anyway, and anyone who knew him was told he’d died in combat.”

The implication of what he said hit her hard. She frowned and stared up at him for confirmation. “But what about your family? Your parents? You said you had a sister. Surely they weren’t told you died.”

Pain swamped his eyes and then he simply turned away, rolling to the edge of the bed. He sat up, pulling the sheet with him, and he sat there on the edge, leaning forward, head down.

She got awkwardly to her knees, feeling exposed and vulnerable. But there was something about the look in his eyes that struck a chord deep within her. She’d felt his pain. For a moment it was as if her mind had opened up that path again and she’d gotten a glimpse inside his mind.

Tortured. Guilt. So much guilt and sorrow.

Tentatively, she touched his shoulder. He flinched and the muscles jumped and coiled underneath her fingers, but she didn’t remove her hand.

Then she wrapped her arms around him, laid her head on his shoulder and hugged him tightly, her br**sts pressed to his back. She kissed the ball of his shoulder and simply knelt there holding him.

“Did you see it all? I felt you in my head for just a moment,” he said bitterly.

She kissed him again and ignored the sharpness in his tone. “No. Even if I could, I wouldn’t have. I don’t establish links with people I’m not close to. It’s a breach in privacy and I’d never en019 cocroach on yours.”

He slid his hand up to cover one of her hands that lay over his chest. “Well, that put me in my place, I suppose. I snap because you’re in my head and yet I don’t like you saying that you wouldn’t because you don’t establish links with people you aren’t close to. Guess I can’t have it both ways, can I?”

She rested her chin on his shoulder and sighed. “Tell me what’s wrong, Rio. It doesn’t have to be so difficult that I have to read your mind or see your thoughts. All you have to do is tell me what it is. They told your parents that you’d died?”

He gripped her hand tighter and then carefully loosened his hold. “Yes. At the time I was young and idealistic. It was all for the greater good. In order to serve my country, I had to die. I couldn’t have ties. They needed the ultimate soldier. No family. No baggage. Nothing to hold me back. Nothing that would take a higher priority than my mission. My parents had Rosalina, and I thought everything would be fine.”

He sighed deeply and wiped a hand over his face, pushing it back into his hair and holding it there at his nape, his knuckles white from his grip.

“I was a selfish, glory-seeking fool.”

Grace winced at the self-condemnation in his voice. “And now? Do they know you’re alive?”

“They do,” Rio said, so soft she almost didn’t hear. “And yet I am dead to them still.”

Grace blinked, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “I don’t understand.”

“You know this part. My sister got involved with a man who was all wrong for her. He was older, controlling. He was a bastard of the first order. He killed her.”