Midnight Shift, page 11
He nodded. She wondered what he’d picked up in their heads. Nothing to awful or he wouldn’t have given her the okay.
Benie nodded back to him then turned to Destan. “Lead the way,” she said.
Inside the cabin, there were three robes by the door. Benie gratefully put one on. Trace and Ian grabbed the other two.
Through the living room and in the kitchen, Dr. Gray stood at a tall table. A pot of coffee, along with breads, cheeses, and fruit snacks were laid out on the counter. She was still a little full from the deer, but ate a cube of cheese and savored the soft texture as it melted in her mouth.
“Dr. Gray.” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. He’d known who she was when she’d come to his office—a deception she found hard to forgive. He was her mother’s brother. Her uncle. So bizarre. She felt like she’d stepped into an Outer Limits episode, and those shows never ended well.
“Come have a seat,” the small man said, inviting them to take the barstool chairs around the table. “We have much to discuss.” He pushed his thick glasses back up his nose as he cast a flickering glance at Benie.
“What’s the plan?” she said. She’d listen to what he had to say, but in the end, she’d make up her own mind on how she wanted to proceed.
Dr. Gray, or maybe she should think of him as Myron, pointed to a large area on a map and moved his thin fingers around in a circle. “Caledon is constantly moving. There is no way to infiltrate as an outsider. We have to get someone inside. Garrick will never trust anyone I’d try to place, and anyone he would trust would not be our ally.” He gave Trace a meaningful look. “You understand what I’m saying.”
“Yes,” Trace said. “You want me to go back.”
Alarm bells rang in Benie’s head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I quit the wardens in good standing. I can get my job back.” Trace tucked his hands into the robe pockets. “It’s a chance to get Caledon’s location.”
“No,” Benie said. “There has to be another way.”
Max put his hand on Benie’s arm. A deep sadness filled his expression.
“Max is right,” Destan said. “Trace is our best option.”
Max nodded his agreement. It dawned on Benie he hadn’t said a word.
“Doesn’t he speak?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.” The other brother, Eustan, toed the tiled floor. “Not since Garrick had his tongue removed.”
The horror of his statement hit Benie like a gut punch. “Why? Why would he do that?”
Destan answered. “For the same reason he had his own family slaughtered…because he can.”
“Well, that and the fact that he smarted off. Too much of our father in him,” Eustan added.
Gray refocused the conversation. “That’s enough.” He shook his head. “It may take a month or two for Trace to work his way into Keane’s inner circle again. We’ll use that time to gather our forces. We need to be ready when he pinpoints a location. We’ll only have a short window to attack.”
Benie wanted to scream. This was the plan? To have Trace go in alone? No back up? She glared at her uncle and the triplets. The idea of being separated from Trace or Ian for even a day, let alone one to two months, made her feel as if she were losing a part of herself. Ian took her hand. It helped. She tried to take Trace’s hand, but he stepped out of reach.
“I’m doing this, Benie. We’re mated, but that doesn’t mean you own me or my decisions.”
“But Garrick will want you dead as much as he wants me dead. Because we’re mated!”
“He doesn’t have any idea who you’re mated to, and I was once second in command to the head of his wardens. Keane and I were friends…and I don’t know why I have to explain all this to you. You’re pregnant, Benie, and you have a bounty on your head. I’m the best shot we have to putting an end to all this, and that’s all that needs to be said.”
Benie yanked her hand from Ian’s and slapped her palms down on the map. If she were in a cartoon steam would have hissed out of her ears. As it was, her hands changed colors to blend in with the topographical design.
“Weird,” Destan said. His metallic-eyes shined as he stared at her ever-changing skin. “But very cool.”
“Yeah, super cool,” Benie quipped. Anger burned through her veins. Trace’s willingness to leave her to go undercover reminded her of when he’d turned his back on her earlier in the evening. Another rejection. She pushed the emotional ache aside burying it under a growing fury. Trace had been a soldier. A warrior like herself. If she didn’t respect his decision, he’d resent her later. Maybe even hate her.
She turned to Gray, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Trace. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Chapter 10
Trace Calder’s resolve wavered when his new mate Benie Dilian gripped his hands and stared at him with raw, naked emotion.
“I don’t want you to go,” she said.
“I know.”
It had been hours since Trace had dropped the bomb on Benie that he planned to infiltrate the Caledon by once again becoming a warden. She’d asked to speak to him outside the cabin. Alone.
Now, Trace watched her pace back and forth near the edge of the woods between a large maple and a pine.
“The plan is dangerous. And stupid,” she said. “You go in there alone, you won’t have any back up. You’re going to get yourself killed.” Her voice choked with pain. “You’re going to kill me.”
Her pale green eyes softened when Trace gathered her in his arms.
“You won’t die, Benie. You’ll live. You were born to live.” He could feel her heart like a pounding fist against his chest—a byproduct of her fear for his safety. She really cared for him, and the realization eased his tension. “It’s the best way. The only way,” he amended, “to find Caledon. As long as Garrick remains hidden, he will keep sending assassins to kill you.”
Keane Silvertail, leader of the wardens, had once been counted among Trace’s friends. He’d reluctantly joined the wardens at his father’s order, and Trace had been determined to prove himself unbreakable. Keane had taken a personal interest in Trace and one other student, Semina Thames. Keane had taught them both the ways of a sword master, but Semina had preferred guns. She fought with cold calculation, no passion. But there was something in her strength that spoke to his wolf. She’d been the first woman to make him feel the mating call, and when she agreed to marry him, a deeper part of himself had known it wouldn’t turn out well.
After all, a leopard can’t change its spots any more than a wolf can ignore the moon.
With Benie, his wolf insisted things were different, but this time he held on to his doubts. How could this end well for any of them? He stroked her cheek. “I left the wardens in good standing. There is no reason for Keane to deny my petition to return.”
Besides, Trace thought, Keane owed him.
Her hand wound up his back, kneading his tight muscles. He dipped his head to meet her as she rose up on her toes. The touch of her lips electrified him. Never had a woman affected him in such a visceral way. He could feel Benie in his blood, his muscles, and his bones. She’d infiltrated his every cell until she was no longer a separate being. She was a part of him.
He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into his embrace. She tasted of sweet spice when she parted her lips for his invading tongue. He savored her, feeding from the kiss as if it were a last meal. Quite possibly his last with Benie if he didn’t survive the mission. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of dying. Only living. Living now with Benie in his arms. She was his mate. His.
And Ian’s.
Another doubt reared its ugly head. Trace shook it way as Benie wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed herself against his groin.
“Love me,” she said through the kisses. “Just love me.”
I do, he thought. And I will.
Benie yanked her T-shirt over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her creamy breasts with light pink areolas and tightly drawn nipples made his wolf long to howl.
Benie was a warrior, trained to kill without mercy or guilt. Basically, she’d been trained to be a sociopath. With her upbringing, she should have been a ruthless, cold-blooded killer, but she wasn’t. Benie had a moral compass. An internal directive. She followed a code of right and wrong, and he admired her even more for her boundaries. She would make a good queen. And he would do everything in his power to make sure she survived to rule—even if it meant dying to protect her.
* * * *
The assassin Shade watched from a hunter stand in a tall oak more than five-hundred meters from the cabin. The arrival of the gray man seemed to confirm the target location, but the red-haired woman and her two companions showed up several hours later, naked and disheveled. They’d been accompanied by three other men, whose similar appearance marked them as either identical triplets or clones.
After they went into the cabin, Shade bided time. Killing was a patience game. Assassins made a lot of money, but those who rushed jobs usually didn’t live long enough to spend their hard earned dollars. The gray man had left an hour ago. The assassin considered moving in for a closer look, but it became unnecessary when the red head walked out the front door to the side of the house. A tall, broad man, one of her companions, followed her closely. Shade still couldn’t get a good look at his face.
They fought for a moment. Something about Caledon. About Garrick. About dying.
Don’t worry, girl, Shade thought. You won’t live past the sunrise.
Where was the third companion? The job required all three of them to die. It would be Shade’s biggest payday yet.
The man and red head stopped fighting. Shade watched as he put his arms around the woman. Watched as she leapt up and wrapped her legs around him. When the mark yanked her shirt over her head, the man shoved her against a nearby tree as their frantic kisses and groans traveled on the night air like sorrows song.
Shade stared at the lovers, eyes shifting to another form, one that could see farther and clearer. When the man jerked his head back and howled, Shade was finally able to see his face.
Trace Fucking Calder. This wasn’t happening. Was Keane playing a trick? Was this a misguided attempt at revenge? Shade didn’t stick around to watch. She’d found the red head and her companions once she could find them again. And right now she had a bone to pick with a certain dragon.
* * * *
The rough bark scraped against Benie’s back when Trace thrust himself inside her. She wanted to cry in joy as he merged their bodies. He buried his face against her chest, latching his lips around a nipple. He sucked, and licked, and tugged. She groaned as every tease of his tongue sent stabs of pleasure to her groin. The heat of his body, the scorch of his desire, made Benie beg to burn.
She flung her head back and opened her eyes when pain from hitting the hard tree trunk blossomed in her skull—pain that pushed the pleasure to an even greater level of ecstasy. His eyes were wolfish-amber as he stared, sweat beading on his forehead as he quickened his thrusts. His cock felt thicker inside her now, and for a brief moment she heard his mind.
Benie. Love. Doubt. Mine. Not mine. Can’t. Love. Want to love. Want her love. Want.
“You have me,” she moaned. “You have me, Trace.”
He withdrew himself out of Benie and turned her around. Startled, she reached out for the tree to brace herself. Trace grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her toward him. She felt one of his hands on the small of her back, and she gasped when slammed his cock inside her without warning. She gripped the trunk, holding tight, as he quickened his movements.
Instinct kicked in, a primal reaction to his claiming. Benie swallowed the part of her that wanted to resist Trace’s dominance. The part of her that was also dominant. He needed reassurance she was his. He would leave soon, and she wanted to him to know just how much she valued him. She wanted him to come back to her.
She roared and went to her hands and knees. Trace stayed joined with her as he dropped to the ground with her. Benie raised her ass high, giving Trace complete access, as she submitted to him. He dug his claws into her hips.
Need. Need, is all she heard from his thoughts now. And his blind desire washed over Benie. On the brink of orgasm, she shoved herself back on Trace and cried out. A growl tore from him followed by a quick jerk of his hips and a shuddering collapse of his upper body. He stayed in her, joined, until he spent the last of his climax.
Benie didn’t move until he withdrew his softening cock from her.
He lifted her up, her back against his. His hand slid across her chest to her face. He whispered in her ear. “I have to go, Benie.”
A tear slid down her cheek, and she nodded.
Trace kissed the wet trail. “You understand. I have to do this for you. For the baby. For us.”
Benie clasped her hands to his arms as he held her more tightly. She was a fighter. She’d always faced a problem head on. Never shied away from a challenge because it was difficult. She respected Trace’s determination, his bravery, but she wished the risk was hers and not his. But she couldn’t get into Caledon. Not like he could. The strategy was sound, even if the idea of Trace leaving ripped her guts apart.
Finally, she turned around and looked into his eyes, now light-brown again. Soft, kind, yet fierce. She kissed him gently. “Yes. I understand.”
* * * *
Keane Silvertail’s cell phone rang. The caller ID was simply the number one, which meant it could only be her. Shade had a high opinion of herself, but that didn’t mean she was wrong. In her field, she was the best. He answered on the second ring. “Is it done?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He stiffened. The tone of her voice was deadly, yet underneath was a current of panic. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Trace Calder,” she said flatly.
Keane felt mule-kicked. Trace’s name was one he hadn’t heard in a very long time. “What about Trace?”
“He’s with the red head Garrick hired me to kill.”
“What do you mean he’s with her?”
“How much more plain can I be? He is not only in her proximity, he is fucking her. Against trees, apparently. I watched the whole goddamn horror show. I don’t know what the hell this bitch did to piss off his royal pain in the ass, but I’m out. I won’t help you hurt him. Not again.”
Her words cut deep. Keane shook his head—not that it mattered. Shade couldn’t see his denial. He pushed his guilt aside. How was Trace mixed up in this business? He hadn’t understood Garrick’s obsession with the girl, and frankly, he hadn’t cared. He was a loyal servant to the crown of Caledon, and Garrick was its wearer. Garrick worked very hard to hide information about the girl—careful to keep everything about her secret and private. But now that Trace was involved, Keane found himself curious. Had Trace quit the wardens and joined the rebels? Was this girl part of the faction backing the gray man? Had she seduced his old friend and turned him into a traitor? He’d never seen Trace as the type to get involved in conflicts if he could avoid them. He’d kept tabs on his old friend over the years, and Trace had made a comfortable living as a mediator. So, why was he with the girl?
“No amount of money is worth this,” Shade said.
Keane agreed, but as the Chief Warden, he had his own role to fulfill. “Just watch the girl and nothing more until you hear from me.”
The phone clicked, and Shade was gone.
A minute later, his phone rang again. The number read as “Unknown”. Keane narrowed his eyes on the phone and his the call button. “Hello.”
“Keane?”
“Yes?”
“This is Trace. Trace Calder. I’d like to talk to you about rejoining the wardens.”
Keane felt the blood leave his face as a cold chill from the past froze him for a moment. Maybe Trace would have the answers about the girl Garrick strove to hide. However, if Trace turned out to be in league with the rebels, Keane would act. He’d sworn his allegiance over twenty years ago, and he was honor bound to keep his oath. He didn’t want to hurt Trace, or worse, kill him, but his desire to spare his friend would not stop him from doing his duty. Finally, he said, “Okay. Let’s meet.”
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.
