Echoes at Dawn (14 page)

He lifted an eyebrow. “On the contrary, until I have your absolute agreement, you don’t talk to Shea.”

Hurt crowded in. For a moment she couldn’t even muster a response. How could he use her sister as a bargaining tool?

“You’re a bastard.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. And I’m the bastard who’s going to keep you safe.”

He was immovable as a mountain. Somehow she didn’t think tears or feminine distress would make a dent in his resolve. Not that she’d reduce herself to that level of manipulation. She had pride. She’d been stripped of everything, her dignity, her will to live. At times she was convinced that her very soul had been forfeit. But she refused to let go of her pride.

“All right, I agree,” she said in defeat. “To whatever it is.” She braced herself for what those conditions would be and hoped she hadn’t just agreed to a deal with the devil.

Rio nodded but he didn’t appear smug over his victory. His expression became serious. “I know she’s your sister and that your inclination is to share everything with her. However, I do not want our current location compromised.”

Grace’s brow furrowed. “But wouldn’t they know where you lived? I mean, this is your house, right?” Then remembering the clothes she hadn’t mentioned, she said, “For that matter, Shea has been here. These are her clothes. How did you get them?”

He held up his hands. “One thing at a time. Yes, they’re
Shea’s clothes. No, she hasn’t been here. I saw her last when she and Nathan returned from your parents’ house just after you contacted her last. We had video surveillance of you in the house. Shea asked KGI for our help in finding you. I volunteered to go.”

She glanced up in surprise. “Why?”

He cocked his eyebrow. “Why what?”

“Why would you volunteer? What could you possibly care about a woman you didn’t know?”

The corner of Rio’s mouth curled upward. “I get that a lot of your life has been spent dealing with people without honor. But not everyone is an asshole. I wanted to help Shea. I wanted to help you. It’s as simple as that.”

Ashamed, Grace glanced down, only to have Rio nudge her chin upward again.

“As for your other questions, yes, KGI knows of this location. They only recently acquired knowledge of it. But knowing I own it doesn’t mean they know where we are. I’d rather keep it that way.”

“Don’t you trust them? You work for them, right?”

“I don’t trust anyone,” he said bluntly. “Not when it comes to something as important as your safety. Which is why if you speak to your sister, the extent of your conversation has to be that you’re okay and whatever pleasantries you exchange. She’s going to want you to come home. She’s going to want you right there with her.”

“Why can’t I be?” Grace asked quietly. “Didn’t you say when you first came to me that you were there to bring me home?”

Rio nodded. “Eventually. When it’s safe. When we know for certain it’s safe. Until then the very last thing you and Shea need is to be together. Makes the enemy’s job that much easier.”

“So all I have to do is agree not to tell her where I am and you’ll let me talk to her?”

Rio nodded. “I, of course, will sit in on the conversation. If at any time you venture into forbidden territory, I’ll shut it down immediately.”

She opened her mouth to argue but remembered that this was a take-it-or-leave-it situation. Rio showed no sign whatsoever of being able to be talked into anything.

“All right,” she finally conceded. “I agree.”

Rio rose from the bed and stood at the end. “Okay then. Why don’t you come out, get something to eat and then we’ll make the call.”

GRACE
walked down the hall shoeless, flexing her toes into the plush carpet. When she reached the living area, polished wood replaced the carpet and was cooler on the soles of her feet.

She paused just a few steps in, staring at the array of men slouched in chairs and on the couches across the room. They were watching a football game on the big screen and arguing about point spreads and fantasy football picks.

It all looked so…normal. Like she’d stumbled into some bachelor pad. Not like she was surrounded by mercenaries hired to protect her.

Terrence looked up and saw her first. He raised a beefy hand—one that was nearly as big as her head—and waved her over.

“Come on, Miss Grace. You don’t want to miss the big game.”

She glanced around, automatically looking for Rio. She found him behind the island bar in the kitchen, obviously preparing something to eat.

He dipped his head in Terrence’s direction. “Go on over. They don’t bite.”

Wiping her hand down her jeans, she walked hesitantly toward the mass of testosterone. There was a mad scramble as they sat up straight and made room for her on the couch next to Terrence.

She took the corner, grateful to have a guy on only one side of her, and leaned into the arm.

“How you feeling?” Terrence asked.

Grace nodded. “Better. Thank you.”

Diego cast her a sideways glance, studying her for a long moment until she was ready to fidget right off the couch.

“Your color is better,” he finally said. “Still a little pale but you’re getting there.”

“Thanks, I think,” she mumbled.

“You care if I ask you something?” Browning called out.

She blinked and looked in his direction. He was sitting sideways in an armchair with one leg dangling over the arm, beer in one hand, his other propped on the back of the chair.

“Uhm, I don’t guess so.”

“That healing thing you do. How do you do it?”

She was so used to being highly guarded when it came to any mention of her abilities that she immediately tensed and became wary.

Terrence frowned in Browning’s direction. “Don’t be an ass.”

Diego shrugged. “He’s only asking what the rest of us are wondering. We’ve all met Shea. We know what she did for Nathan. According to Shea, Grace here is the one who helped Swanny when he and Nathan were escaping in Afghanistan. I’d say that makes us curious.”

Grace turned almost in panic, her gaze seeking Rio. He stood in the same spot as before, tending to something on the stove. But he was looking at her, his gaze steady and unreadable. Almost as if he was telling her that she was on her own. Fight her own battles.

For a moment, it irritated her that he wouldn’t come to her rescue, but then realization was swift that he saw what she didn’t want to. That she needed to toughen up. She needed to regain her confidence and spirit. How could she do any of that if she was always leaning on him?

She glanced back at Rio’s men and forced herself to relax. Of course they’d be curious. Any normal person would be. And they likely thought she owed them some sort of explanation given they’d risked their lives to save her ass.

They’d probably be right.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how I do it. I just always…have. The first memory I have of healing is when I was very young and I found a bird fluttering on the ground with a broken wing. I picked it up and I can remember wishing with all my heart that I could make it better.”

The rest of the men tuned in, leaning forward in their seats.

“Did you? Heal it?” Browning asked.

She nodded. “For a long moment it remained completely still, cupped in my palms. Then it started flapping and struggling, trying to get away, so I opened my hands and it flew off. But the next thing I knew, I felt this awful pain in my arm. I could literally feel my own bone breaking. I was terrified. I went running to my mother, who told me I was never to do such a thing again.

“Shea was with her and she took my pain. I can remember being on my mother’s lap and having Shea put her hands around my arm. Her face was so solemn. I can still remember what she said. ‘I’ll make it better, Grace.’ And she did. At least temporarily.”

“Wow, that’s heavy,” Decker said. “It’s incredible what the two of you can do.”

“As I got older, I was able to focus my ability more. Direct it. I don’t know how to explain it, really. I could be a great distance from someone, but if I had a connection to them, I could still heal them. As I did with the man you called Swanny through Shea’s connection to Nathan.”

“It’s no damn wonder there are people so eager to get
their hands on you,” Terrence said in a somber voice. “The possibilities are endless. You’d be of vital interest to the military or any radical group.”

“An unstoppable fighting force,” Diego interjected. “Someone goes down, Grace heals them through a psychic link. Boom, up they go again.”

Grace was shaking her head before he even finished. “I’m not psychic. I mean I can’t predict events, tell the future. I’m not a mind reader in the sense that I can pick out your thoughts. It’s…different. I’m telepathic, which just means I can communicate mentally. I can heal remotely, telepathically I suppose you’d say.”

“So you can’t read our thoughts?” Browning asked.

Of everyone, he seemed to have the keenest interest in her abilities. He’d remained thoughtful throughout the conversation, his brow etched in concentration.

“Not unless I connect to you.”

“Can you connect to just anyone?” Decker asked. “Shea said her abilities were random.”

“I could at one time,” she said softly. “I’m not sure I can anymore.”

They all looked inquisitively at her. An uncomfortable silence fell.

“You’ll get it back.”

Grace turned to see Rio standing behind the couch just over her shoulder.

“With the proper care and reconditioning, you’ll get it back.”

“I hope you’re right.” She sighed and her shoulders slumped as she turned back around. She remained sideways just a bit so she could still see Rio while including the others in her sight. “I used to think that I didn’t want my gift. That it would be easier—my life would be easier—if my head was silent. If I couldn’t hear other people. If I couldn’t heal.”

“And now?” Diego prompted.

“I miss my sister,” Grace said, an ache building in her chest as she thought of losing that link to Shea. “This past
year has been difficult. She’s tried to keep communication to a minimum because she always feared knowing too much about me and where I was. She didn’t want to be used against me or to draw me out.”

“How did you lose it?” Decker asked. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

Grace went numb as memories of all she’d endured came hard and fast. Residual pain echoed through her joints and muscles. The voices in her head screamed. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d lifted her palms to her temples and closed her eyes in an effort to make it all go away.

“That’s enough,” Rio said in a terse voice. “It’s time to eat, Grace. You need to keep your strength up.”

She swallowed, realizing that Rio had just bailed her out where before he hadn’t and she’d recognized the importance of standing on her own, of not being so damn weak all the time. The past couldn’t hurt her. Memories couldn’t hurt her. Only the present and the future had that ability. She had to stop fearing the ghosts.

They were all still staring at her. She cleared her throat and pushed away the lingering shadows.

“When they…” She took another deep breath.
Pull it together, Grace. This isn’t a big deal.
“When they made me heal all those test subjects, it hurt me. Not just physically but mentally. When I heal someone, I take on their injury or illness. It becomes mine. As if I lift it straight from them and absorb it. They go away free, recovered. I have to then recover myself.

“Some of the subjects were hard. With each one I grew weaker until I was sure I would die. I severed the link to my sister because I didn’t want to become so weak that I called out to her without realizing it. I never wanted her to see me as I was and I didn’t want to endanger her.”

Terrence scowled fiercely. Diego was frowning as well while Decker and the others still wore puzzled looks.

“You just severed it? You can do that?” Decker asked.

Grace nodded, tears crowding her eyes. “It was the hardest
thing I’ve ever done in my life. She was…she was a part of me. Always with me and suddenly I was alone and frightened. And slowly dying.”

“Ungoddamnbelievable,” Diego muttered. “What the fuck were they hoping to prove? That they could kill you? How would your death benefit them at all? If they wanted to use your powers, why the hell wouldn’t they take better care with you?”

Grace wiped at her cheek in an offhand manner, relieved to find no trace of tears there. “I don’t think they understood. How could they? I think they thought I was acting because I didn’t want to perform to their expectations. It wasn’t until…”

She shook her head and clamped her lips shut. She didn’t want to go there. It still shamed her even though she knew it wasn’t her, that she hadn’t had any control.

Rio cleared his throat. “That’s enough. Come eat now, Grace.”

She glanced gratefully over, this time allowing him to rescue her. She pushed herself from the couch and slid her shaking hands into the pockets of her jeans to disguise how traumatized she still was by the past weeks.

To her utter shock, Terrence stood, towering over her briefly before he pulled her into a huge bear hug. She stood there plastered against the big man’s chest, mouth open as he squeezed the breath from her.

Touched by the show of support, she slowly put her arms around him and returned the hug. He swiped a big hand down her back and then patted her awkwardly on the shoulder as he pulled away.

“You’re a tough nut, Miss Grace,” he said gruffly. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Terrence. You’re very kind.”

“Let’s go eat. Rio cooks some good stuff when he’s home in his kitchen.”

She allowed Terrence to lead her into the kitchen and up to the large island with barstool seating. She glanced
around, having just given everything a cursory once-over last night. It was indeed a dream kitchen. A chef’s kitchen, she believed they were called. Top-of-the-line appliances. A huge, six-burner gas stove. Double oven. Stainless everything.

It didn’t compute.