Midnight Shift by Renee George

Author:Renee George [George, Renee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book Boutiques
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

It had been a week since Trace had left. He’d managed to get one message out to Myron Gray, and none of it had been personal to Benie. She knew he was being discreet, but it didn’t stop her lonely ache. She longed for Trace more than she imagined was possible. Ian had equated her pain to phantom limb syndrome. As if Trace had been nothing more than an amputated appendage. She’d slugged him in the shoulder and didn’t talk to him for almost two days afterward. Trace, whether Ian believed it or not, was integral to Benie’s life. A lot more important than an arm or a leg.

She knew in her heart, Ian’s theory was more about jealousy than true belief. Trace was a big, muscular guy. A warrior. For some stupid reason, her genius best friend thought he couldn’t compete with Trace physically. He found solace in believing the telepath couldn’t compete with him on a mental or emotional level when it came to Benie. With Trace gone, she didn’t disabuse Ian of the notion. Between the hiding, the waiting, the pregnancy, and all the revelations in between, she didn’t want one more thing to deal with.

Gray had moved Ian and her to another place. This safe house had a basement like the first, and it hadn’t taken Ian long to convert it. Their world crashing down around them, and Ian still made time for science. Benie didn’t know whether she resented or respected his dedication. A mixture of both, she decided.

Trace wouldn’t have liked the new place. It was a glorified box sitting amongst rows of other glorified boxes. He liked space, especially with his telepathic abilities. A twinge of ache and longing as she thought of Trace Calder laced around her stomach.

A heavy thump, thump, thump and a crash from the basement jerked her attention away from her thoughts. She jumped up from the sofa where she’d been pretending to read and relax, and ran down the stairs.

Ian was crouched on the floor of his laboratory cradling his arm to his side. Shattered glass was scattered about his feet. “Oh my God. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he gritted out, his tone edged with irritation.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Benie took Ian’s arm and asked him again, “What happened?” His protective sleeve was torn and blood seeped from a one-inch gash. A broken shard protruded from the wound.

Ian stood with some effort. “I said I’m fine.” He stared at Benie as if seeing her for the first time since she’d ran down to the rescue. “You’re not clean.”

“What the fuck, Ian?”

He smiled. Simple, but reassuring. Very cute and sexy, in an annoying sort of way. “I only meant, this is a clean room, Benie. You barged in here and didn’t use protocol.”

“Nag, nag.” Benie placed Ian’s forearm on the counter. “I thought you were being attacked!”

“This room has no access to the outside other than the door at the top of the stairs. You were sitting at the top of stairs.

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