Elite Metal-ARE-epub (18 page)

“You touched
my
bike?”

“Suck it up, buttercup. I’m trying to keep your ass alive until you make a decision on what you’re going to do.”

“I can handle myself.” He eyed his jaw. “As you now have evidence and I’ve already made my decision.”

Steele glared at him. “There’s a Deep Ellum address to a local biker bar loaded in your phone. Bone Daddy’s. It’s less than stellar, but they don’t ask a lot of questions and the beer’s cold. Gate will open automatically. Your bike’s coded with a chip to open the gate when you come back.”

“Fine.” He wasn’t coming back and they both knew it. He’d disappear. Any place was better than this place. This world. It wasn’t his anymore.

“This is about more than just you, Chrome.” Steele’s voice echoed off the tall ceilings in the almost empty room. The deep cadence of his voice bounced around until they landed in the pit of Chrome’s stomach.

Chrome grabbed the door handle but let it go, ripping his shirt over his head. One of the women gasped. He thought it was the blonde one.

His back was no longer a blank canvas.

In the place of bare skin was a giant tattoo. Three skulls stacked one on top of each other. Each had a metal plate riveted to the side bearing the name of one of his fallen brothers. Tungsten. Uranium. Zinc. The dead members of his team.

The men he failed.

A sword impaled all three skulls. The hilt of the sword, an American flag, stuck out of the top. Patriotic his ass. It stood for every one of the higher ups involved in sending his men into a cluster fuck. Titanium’s men. Fucking death sentence. That any of them survived was nothing more than a fluke.

A banner across the bottom read,
Never Forget – Never Forgotten.

“Don’t think for a second I don’t know who this is about. Not for a second do they leave me. I made sure of it.”

“Oorah, brother. Oorah.”

Chrome yanked open the door and didn’t look back.

Chapter Three

Midday sun hot on his back, sunglasses covering his eyes, and a horse made of chrome and attitude beneath him—three things that could set anything right in Chrome’s world.

Anything but Steele’s invitation apparently which pissed him off.

The mods to the gas intake were fucking off the charts.

New GPS and integrated mapping? Hot as hell.

And the feel of his new sidearm in his chest holster gave him a hard on.

But he didn’t ask for any of it.

Didn’t want it.

Need it.

Hoping to be left alone for the rest of his life was apparently way too much to ask.

Shit in one hand, hope in the other…

Yeah. Good thing Poppy probably had bleach by the gallon ‘cause he had a ton of shit to take care of.

His phone had synced with the GPS map on the bike as soon as he authenticated his identity through voice recognition when he keyed the ignition the first time.

How the fuck they pulled that off was beyond him, and he could think of a hell of a lot of whacked out shit.

Maybe there really was a Santa Clause and he specialized in firearms and defense-grade electronics.

Chrome’s wish list?

To have his life back.

But which life?

The one he had in the Marines doing the government’s dirty work? Or his boring job as a demolition consultant for high rises? Or this new life that would do nothing but prove the half-life of a former Marine was shorter than a politician could say, “off with his head.”

He’d driven to Bone Daddy’s. The size of the crowd at lunch on a…whatever day it was…surprised him. It looked busy, and the clientele were just his type, which was why he didn’t go in.

Rough dudes spoiling for a fight would not mix well with him today.

So he drove on, heading North for an hour before he stopped to get fuel and a drink. Dry county of course.

‘Cause why the hell not.

He stopped at a rest stop, pegged the bike, climbed off and looked around.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me?” he cursed.

A city sign welcoming him stood front and center not eight feet away.

Name of the city?

Crossroads.

He walked away a few steps and stared across the open highway.

Totally fucking appropriate town for him to stop in, but that didn’t mean he needed to get all introspective and sensitive about shit.

Bare bones?

He was pissed off because he wasn’t taken out. Not having to deal with this shit would be so much fucking easier.

Pissed at Steele’s intel person when he couldn’t be anymore was really cockblocking him on the good mad he just couldn’t work up. His hand ached to hit Steele again since he couldn’t hit her.

Really pissed off because he was actually happy to see Steele, and happy that he seemed to be happy with Alayna. Have somebody.

To love.

He paced back to his bike and climbed on. The engine hummed to life with a simple, “on” command through the comm link on his phone.

As he backed out of his parking space he admitted he was pissed off because he was pissed off. He’d been numb for so long he’d become accustomed to it.

Numb was comfortable.

Numb was safe.

Numb kept everyone and everything on the outside so he could look at it all and not give a shit.

And Steele and those chicks were trying to take it from him.

Had already taken that from him if he was being honest to himself. Which he wasn’t. Fuck honest.

What had honesty and truthfulness ever gotten him?

He’d been fucked over time and time again for the US of A, but the goals and aspirations he’d had fresh out of boot camp and to this very day remained.

Loyalty, faith in his brothers, respect for his fellow American’s and what each individual person went through on a day to day basis.

He pulled up to the entrance to the highway in Crossroads. He could go either direction. North to Oklahoma and anywhere the fuck he wanted after that.

Or he could go South. Back to the compound.

The Elite Metal stronghold where his brother waited with a mission he knew he wouldn’t come back from. And no one would miss him. Not really.

He was thirty-four and nothing to show for it.

Going AWOL wouldn’t matter. He was out already. A civilian and nothing else. No one would know. No one could see him.

Marine Corps integrity is doing that thing which is right, when no one is looking.

The words from, USMC Col. Lampard, filtered through his mind, and the names of his fallen brothers sank into his spine.

Resolve.

So that’s what it felt like.

It’d been a few years since he’d had such a poignant reminder

He toed the bike into gear and gave it some gas. The 103 cubic inch S&S engine roared to life as he headed out.

Turning back would never be an option when he killed the engine at his next stop.

God save him for the choice he made.

* * * * *

“I knew you’d be back.”

Chrome wanted to show Steele’s smug smile the business end of his fist but decided the two hits he got in earlier were going to have to last him a while. “I’m just here to tell you I’m out. This life? Not for me anymore.”

He’d pulled his bike up to the gate and true to word the massive gate had opened. Passing through he noticed the tree lined drive and cabins on either side of the road he’d somehow missed before.

On the left behind those homes he caught a glimpse or two of an airstrip.

They don’t fuck around.

At the end of the road was a large circle drive in front of a huge mansion type structure. Didn’t really look like a house, but maybe. He wouldn’t be around long enough to find out.

“What a pussy move. You trade in your balls, too?” Steele stood at the top of a short set of stone steps in front of the house and Chrome made his way up to him.

“I didn’t just take off and head down the highway. Thought about it, but I didn’t. I came back so you and your little ninjas could take your shit off my bike and then I’ll be on my way.”

“You think you got it all figured out, don’tcha?”

Chrome whipped off his sunglasses and hooked them in the back of his shirt. He got in Steele’s face and he stayed there. “Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t know jack about this normal life shit we’re supposed to be kumbayaing. But what I do know is that my head is not in the game. My life? Not worth a sack of shit as it stands. So if I fuck up and get killed? So be it. But I will not make it seeing another brother die. Copper or Mercury. You.” Chrome shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll pull myself out first, which is exactly what I’m doing.”

“You’re making the wrong choice.”

“What planet are you living on that you think this is going to end any other way but in a blood bath?”

“We make the fucking rules now.”

A laugh broke out of Chrome’s chest before he could stop it. “You’re just as idealistic as you ever were. Fine. We make the rules. But if the other side doesn’t follow them they’re useless. Retaliation, revenge, it’ll only get you so far. There has to be more than that to get out of some of the situations we’ve been in. You know that and so do I.”

“It’s not idealism. It’s realism. This facility? This group we’re working with—”

“Under.”

“With.”

“Don’t lie to yourself. We are working for someone just like we always were. At least the government has the decency to look crazy right up front. This Warbucks person what the fuck do you even know about him? Ever talked to him? Seen him?”

“No, but—”

“Ehhhh! Oh I’m sorry dumbass that’s the buzzer because I’m all out of fucks to give.”

Steele stared him down and moved back toward the door and yanked it open. “I don’t even know why we’re out here arguing. I have all the incentive you need right inside. Shake your money maker.”

Chrome snatched the handle from him and followed him inside. “There’s nothing you could tell me that’s going to make me change my mind.”

“Wanna place a small wager on that, my friend?”

“Sure.” Chrome rolled his eyes and kept pace with Steele. “A hundred bucks says I’m gone by sundown.”

Steele held out his hand and Chrome shook it. “A hundred on the fact that you’ll sign your name on the dotted line before you walk out of the room.”

“You’re on. Easy pickings, jarhead.”

The house was ginormous. Living areas, kitchen, dining space fit for a football team, gym and then they came to a room with a hand print scanner and a key code. “Say your name and place your hand on the scanner.”

“What good’s that going to do when I haven’t been registered in the system yet?”

Steele just stood there and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” Chrome stepped forward, bumping Steele’s shoulder in the process. “Chrome.” He pressed his hand on the bio scanner.

“Access granted.” The computerized voice sounded a heck of a lot like that blonde chick from earlier—Poppy.

The lock on the door popped and Steele pushed his way through.

Chrome glanced at his hand and then the scanner. “You took my prints and loaded them into the system when I was out cold? You dirty bastard. You raped my fingerprints.”

“Cry me a river, take a Midol and get your ass in here. I have something to show you.”

A command center is what he stepped into, but it wasn’t just any command center. It was the kind dreams were made of.

Well…

Wet dreams if you were an elite paramilitary group in the middle of BFE Texas funded by a mysterious bazillionaire who could do anything he wanted and not answer to anyone.

His dick got hard. No joke.

Steele led him past maps and digital read out screens, surveillance monitoring racks and server upon server. Toward the back stood a closed door, which he walked right through. Inside a mammoth desk took up the center, framed by filing cabinets. Nothing fancy. The desk was even cleared off. Dual monitors, pen and paper…that was it.

His brother walked around to the back of it and grabbed a file folder out of drawer. He pulled an 8x10 out and slapped it on the desk facing Chrome.

“There’s your incentive. Right there in B&W.”

Chrome took a step forward and hissed.

The woman on the plane. The pretty woman with the tiny baby whose heartbeat he could still feel against his chest. It was her in the photographs. Looking scared.

“What game are you playing?”

“No game. Real life and all of its shitty complications.”

“Who is she and what’s her involvement with all this? And if she’s a fucking bad guy then I’m hanging up my gun right now and checking out.”

“She’s head of an international adoption agency. A very busy adoption agency that’s been around for eons. Red Wolf wants her involved in his newest moneymaker. Human trafficking. So he sicced Korovin on her. She said no.”

Chrome picked up her picture and studied it. Almost ran his finger over her high cheekbones but he put photo down before he could make a fool out of himself. “Let me guess. That no wasn’t taken very well.”

“Not exactly.”

“So what’d they steal as incentive? Husband? Kids?”

“Close. Siblings. Twins actually. Girl and a boy. She’s been their sole caretaker for years since their parents died.”

“How old?”

“The girl or her siblings?” a decidedly feminine voice asked from behind him.

Poppy walked in, she’d asked the question, with Alayna right behind her. Poppy stopped beside him and Alayna stepped around the desk into Steele’s arms.

“Let’s start with the woman, since kids aren’t really my forte.”

The blonde pulled up something on the tablet she carried. “Cammie Robertson. Twenty-nine. Has worked at the agency since before she was legal. Parents started the agency in ‘79. Highly successful for domestic and especially international adoptions. In 2009 the twins were born. Parents died in 2010 and Cammie became the twins’ caretaker. She adopted them in 2011. There’s a bit of a gap in her whereabouts when her siblings were born and right after but it was deemed unimportant.” Her gaze narrowed at her tablet but she continued.