Elite Metal-ARE-epub (94 page)

He held his breath as she deliberately paused before saying the name he had been given at birth. “Jared Frost.”

Silence stretched between them for six long heartbeats. The
clack
of high heels against concrete echoed in the room again. Her body heat called to him, set his skin alight, and that smell that suddenly surrounded him, something feminine and classy, was one he tried to imprint in his lungs, breathing it in deep and holding it there so it would saturate every last cell. He wanted to remember this woman’s scent forever.

On instinct, he flinched when he felt her hands move toward his face. Tied up like this, he was completely at her mercy. Some part of him, that darkly sexual side that he liked to keep boxed away, rejoiced at the knowledge that this unknown woman, this stranger, could do whatever she wanted to him. He was totally and completely hers to play with, to bat between her paws like a cat’s toy.

Ever so gently, she pried the gag from his mouth. Before he got a word out, she pressed something cold and hard against his parched lips. Liquid spilled onto his dry tongue.
Water!
Desperate to quench his thirst, he lapped it up, tilting his head back and swallowing as the cool, refreshing fluid swirled over his tongue and down his throat. She seemed to know when he had had enough because she drew back the bottle and stepped away from him.

Instantly, he missed her body heat and her scent. He silently cursed the blindfold still strapped against his eyes. Leaning his head to the side, he squinted and could just barely make out the tiniest sliver of a shapely leg and a brown skirt.

“Who the hell are you?” The gruffly barked question ricocheted off the walls of the room where they were holding him. Judging by the hollow sound, he was in a metal building. A warehouse? A factory?

“There’s no need to get huffy, Silver. You should remember that I’m the only thing standing between you and a dozen INTERPOL agents chomping at the bit to slap their cuffs on your wrists.”

There was the slightest hint of an Irish accent in her posh voice when she said
champing
. He had a good ear for accents, especially after disappearing in Europe and learning to blend in, so he picked up on that telltale lilt in an instant. Never one to let a golden opportunity to be a smartass pass him up, he smirked. “Sugar, you can slap your cuffs on my wrists all night long.”

“Goodness, Steele and Chrome were right about you.”

At the mention of his former Elite Recon commanders, Silver’s smirk flattened into a sour grimace. “Who the hell are you?” he asked again. “How do you know about Chrome and Steele?”

“I’m not authorized to hand out that information until you have been fully apprised of and agree to the stipulations of my employer. Now, you can sit still, be quiet and listen, or I’m walking out that door and dialing INTERPOL. It’s your choice.”

Goddamn but that haughty voice of hers made his dick throb. He hated himself for getting hot and bothered by Miss Manners, but his reaction to her was undeniable. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m listening.”

“In the last five months alone, you have stolen more than twenty-five million dollars’ worth of high-end jewelry, antiques and art. You’ve aided and abetted half a dozen families in perpetrating major insurance fraud. You have been a very,
very
naughty boy, Silver.”

“Honey, you are welcome to spank me anytime.” God, how he wished he could see her face! He had never met a woman immune to his charms. Was she biting her lip and trying not to smile? Was she pursing her lips and pretending to be annoyed?

“My employer has chosen to give you a second chance, Silver.” She ignored his come-on and cut right to the chase. “Operation Phoenix decimated Elite Recon, but Elite Metal has risen from its ashes. We’re a small operation, privately funded, and we hand pick our missions to help people who need us the most.”

“Baby, this isn’t Hollywood, and I’m not interested in your
A-Team
fantasies,” he bit out with irritation.

“For the last twenty-one weeks, we’ve had men following your every move. You’ve been shadowed from one end of Europe to the next. We plucked you from a train in Budapest and brought you here, all the way to Texas, without detection. With one peek at your dossier, I can tell you what meal you had seven weeks ago, the color of the wallpaper in your bedroom in that Tirana bolthole you love so much and how often you change your underwear.”

“My, my, my,” he drawled, “you seem to have a certain pre-occupation with my bedroom and boxers.”

“This is all a joke to you isn’t it?” Disappointment filled her voice. “Maybe Chrome was right. Maybe you aren’t a good fit for our team—”

“Now hold on a good goddamned minute—”

“No,” she said firmly. “I can see that this was a waste of my time. Good luck with your INTERPOL interrogators. Of course, we both know that once you hit the prison system, Red Wolf will snatch you up and heaven only knows what he’ll do with you.”

“Damn it! Wait!” The mere mention of Red Wolf had him suddenly hungry for vengeance. “I’m not a team player. That much is true.” He used brute strength to hop the chair forward a few feet. “But I’ll learn to hold hands and share if that means I get a chance to whip some terrorist ass. Those fuckers killed my friends. They ruined the lives of my teammates. My life. They need to pay.”

Breathing hard, he waited for her to say something. When she didn’t speak, he began to worry that he might have fucked up yet another opportunity. The thirty year journey of his life was littered with potholes and craters from all the bridges he had blown up and the friendships he had obliterated.

“Silver,” she spoke gently and almost motherly, “you need to understand that if you come onboard this team, you have to play by our rules. There is no wiggle room here. You either do as you are told and when you are told—or we hand you over.”

“I won’t live with the threat of INTERPOL over my head for the rest of my life. I’ll play by your rules, but you’ve got to give me something in return. You let me earn back the trust of the team. Put me on probation if you have to—but don’t think for one second that I’m going to let you shock collar me for the rest of my life.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed. “If you complete a small number of trial jobs, we’ll slowly let out your leash. The assignments we’ve chosen will make the best use of your rather unique skill set.”

He grinned. “Baby, I’d love to show you my rather unique skill set. How about tonight? You. Me. A hotel suite. I’ll even be a gentleman and let you tie me up first.”

A short burst of laughter escaped Miss Manners. Judging by the quick way she shut it down, he had a feeling she was utterly mortified that she had let her Ice Queen demeanor slip.

“Oh, Silver,” she said with a heavy sigh, “I was warned you might try to sweet talk me.”

“Is it working?”

“Not yet.”

“Is that a dare, Irish Spring?”

The
clack
of high heels accompanied her long strides toward him. The blindfold was unexpectedly ripped away. Recoiling under the bright lights suddenly searing his eyes, he closed them and winced. When he finally worked up the courage to open them, he was instantly seized by the pair of grass green eyes staring down at him.

Holy shit.

Just like that, he was a goner. Green eyes. Full lips. High cheekbones. Silky skin with the hint of a tan. She had coiled her pale blonde hair into one of those swirly buns at the back of her neck. His fingers just itched to pluck out those pins and comb through the soft waves. What would it be like to have her pinned to a mattress, his fingers tangled in that beautiful hair while he nipped at her creamy neck and urged her toward an orgasm with dirty, filthy talk that would make her cheeks turn pink?

Shifting in his too-tight jeans, he gazed up at the prim beauty standing over him. “If this is a dream, don’t wake me.”

The corners of her mouth twitched with a smile, but she cleared her throat and refused to give it to him. Walking around behind him, she slit the duct tape that had been binding his wrists but not completely. It was just enough to give him a headstart on getting free. She glided toward the table in front of them and tossed his favorite knife, the one he normally kept tucked away in his boot, onto the table.

Turning to face him, she crossed her arms. He raked his needful gaze up and down her exceptional form. The curve-hugging pencil skirt and the cream-colored blouse she wore had his librarian fantasies roaring into overdrive. If his hands had been free, he would have bit his knuckles to stifle the lusty groan that threatened to erupt when he noticed the high heels. This woman was class all the way—and he wanted her. He wanted her
bad
.

“When you are not on assignment, I’ll require monthly status updates from you. We’ll have a tail on you when we think it’s necessary, and of course, we’ve implanted a tracking device somewhere on your body.”

“What?” Irritated, he glanced at his arms and legs. He didn’t see blood staining his shirt or jeans. Had they implanted a chip in his back? Thinking of the injection that had taken him down, he wondered if it was in his neck.

As if reading his mind, she shook her head. “Don’t try to find or remove it. The technology we use allows us to implant a device that is smaller than a grain of rice. Even
I
don’t know the injection site the intake team used.”

“This is bullshit!”

“No, this is what happens to men who go rogue,” she countered. “You have twenty-four hours to accept or decline our offer, Silver. If you agree, the information in this packet will set you up for your first few weeks.” She tapped an envelope on the table. “Keep this phone on you at all times so I have a way to contact you.”

Still fuming over the fact that they had microchipped him like a fucking dog, he snarled, “Anything else?”

“You don’t always have to play the role of rebel. You don’t have to be a nomad forever, Silver. I’m offering you the chance to be part of something again. I’m offering you a shot at belonging to a family. You just have to decide if you’re brave enough to accept.” She smiled faintly, and he instantly felt like an asshole for being so rude to her. “Good luck, Silver.”

When she reached the door on the far end of the empty warehouse, he called out to stop her. “Hey! You know my name. It’s only fair that you tell me yours.”

Pausing at the door, she looked back at him. “My name is Poppy Jones.”

His bullshit detector went haywire. Poppy Jones might be the alias she used now, but it wasn’t her real name. He let the lie slide for now. In time he intended to learn everything there was to know about Miss Poppy Jones.

As she stepped out of the warehouse, he shouted, “I’ll be seeing you around, P.J.”

The door slammed, and he immediately began to struggle against his bonds. He yanked hard on the broken tape binding his wrists and finally managed to break free. He hissed as he peeled off the sticky tape and half his arm hair with it. After he had torn the tape from his ankles and the strips across his chest, he stood up slowly and stretched his aching muscles.

Feeling like he had the world’s worst hangover, he stumbled toward the table and grabbed the bottle of water she had left him. After gulping it down, he ate the candy bar waiting for him, savoring each chocolate bite. His snack eaten, he dumped the contents of the packet onto the table. He checked it all out—a new Texas driver’s license, a passport, a fake history, a stack of cash, some bank cards and the key to a motorcycle.

“No fucking way,” he breathed out in disbelief. Snatching up the familiar key, he shoved everything back into the envelope, picked up his knife and sunglasses and rushed out of the warehouse as fast as his still wobbly legs would take him.

Bursting into a cold Texas morning, Silver took a moment to gain his bearings. The girl was gone. No sign of her.

He glanced left and then right before finally spotting the ’49 Panhead Bobber he had thought lost to him forever. After going underground, he had walked away from his most prized possession.

He ran a loving hand over the silver paint. Someone had recently detailed the bike, and by the looks of the engine, it had been serviced, too. A helmet dangled by its strap from one of the handlebars. The custom silver paintjob on the helmet amused him.

Poppy. It had to be her.

Grinning like a fool, he slipped on his aviators, tucked the envelope into the waistband of his jeans and tossed a leg over the seat. He relaxed into the familiar embrace of the low leather seat and gripped the handlebars. The stretch along his shoulders and arms felt good. Damn. This was nice.

The cell phone vibrated in the front pocket of his jeans. He lifted up just enough to slide his hand inside to free it. When he glanced at the screen, he spotted an unfamiliar number and a text message.

Tues., Apr. 1, 08:03 AM

Status Update?

Glancing around the empty parking lot in front of the rundown warehouse, he wondered if Poppy was watching him and waiting for him to decide whether he would take her offer to join the new team. He stared at the screen for a few moments.

Am I ready for this?

The answer came swiftly. Punching in his reply, he hit send and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

Tues., Apr. 1, 08:05 AM

I’m all yours, PJ.

Feeling free for the first time in a long, long time, he knocked back the stand and kick-started the vintage bike. The engine rumbled twice before roaring to life as he goosed the throttle. The bike rattled smoothly, the pops and thumps of the compression a sound he had missed so much.

With a grin on his face, he fastened his helmet and settled into his seat. The open road called to him as the bike roared out of the parking lot and onto the nearest road. He had no destination in mind, but he suspected Miss Poppy Jones would be yanking his leash soon enough.

* * * * *

“This one is going to be trouble.” Warbucks drummed his fingers on the dashboard of the Range Rover. “More trouble than the others we’ve press-ganged onto the team.”