Elite Metal-ARE-epub (4 page)

“And what is it that I want?”

She leaned forward until her pretty face hovered only a few inches away from his. Her exotic green eyes glinted as she said, “Revenge.”

Ah, now she was speaking his language. He wished the drugs would hurry up and leave his system so his brain could make better sense of all the intel she seemed intent on sharing. But to say he was intrigued was an understatement.

“Keep talking,” he murmured.

“Mmm…I thought that might get your attention.” She straightened and smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt. “You’re being brought out of retirement for a specific purpose. New information on Operation Phoenix has been brought to the attention of my employer. He’s offering you the opportunity and the resources to find the person who sold you and your teams under. Once they’re apprehended, you may do with them what you will.”

“And who’s your employer?”

“Unfortunately, I am unable to divulge his identity. He works with highly sensitive information. Very few people know of his existence .I will be your liaison and distribute all of your assignments.”

“Assignments? As in there’ll be more than one?”

“With any luck, yes.”

Tempting, tempting, tempting.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you will be given a new identity and relocated to another part of the country. It’s too risky for Mac Johnson to return to the rig with the Russian government knowing of your existence.”

“How do I know you’re not making all of this shit up?”

She accepted a file folder from one of her men. “Before we intercepted you, my employer sent a scouting team to confirm the intel he received that you had been compromised.”

She showed him photos of him on the oil rig taken with a long range camera lens. If the camera had been a sniper rifle, he would have been dead. With each photo the zoom was pulled further back, revealing more of the landscape and the photographer’s position up on the Santa Barbara hillside.

“This man was sent by Vladimir Babikov.” She tapped on the lower left-hand corner of the fifth photo.

Steele squinted and the odd-shaped bush, which appeared to have received more water than the surrounding vegetation, took on the shape of a man in a ghillie suit. Protruding from the foliage was the barrel of a Dragunov SVDK sniper rifle aimed at the oil rig.

“How do you know he was sent by Red Wolf?”

“We asked him.” She flipped to the last photo of a man’s body lying on the floor of a cell in a pool of blood. “It took some persuading, but in the end he realized it was best to give us what we wanted.”

Steele blew out a breath and glanced around at the empty space and men surrounding him. From the looks of things Poppy had things well in hand with both equipment and manpower, which left him with one big question.

“Why me?”

“It has to be you.” She sighed and a veil of sadness came over her. “Operation Phoenix was your mission. Circumstances out of your control turned it in to something it was never supposed to be. Now is your chance to settle the score. You are the only one who can convince the others to join.”

He remembered Chrome’s eyes the last day they were together. Copper’s. Merc’s. Betrayed. His team had stood behind him, but… “I’m the last person you should want.”

She placed her hand on his chest, pausing for a moment before slipping her fingers under the collar of his shirt and pulling out the dog tags that hung around his neck.

“For reasons you don’t understand yet,” she repeated and settled the tags against his shirt. “It has to be you, Steele.”

The weight of what those tags meant pushed against his sternum, sending a jolt through his chest and his sluggishly beating heart.

Zinc’s face flashed behind his eyes. His last words echoed in his head as if it were a personal IED created just for him. He always wondered what happened to Zinc’s fiancée after they told her…

Fuck
.

He had to fix it. Had to make it right. He couldn’t save Zinc, or the rest of the men and woman he had a hand in leading to their deaths. But taking Red Wolf out? That was something he could live for.

As his fingers curled into a fist he lifted his head and met the blonde’s gaze. “I’m in.”

A smile flirted with her lips and the tension left her shoulders. “Good.”

With a nod of her head, one of the males came forward and cut the zip-ties binding his wrists and the ones around his feet. Blood rushed back into his limbs in a welcome burn as he rotated his wrists and shook the circulation back into his legs.

“Since I’m now an employee. Who’s the boss?”

The little minx smiled. “Follow me please.”

He followed Poppy out a side door into a huge hangar and the men dressed in black brought up the rear. The Bombardier Learjet 31A, the two Beechcraft 58 Barons, and the helicopter were very interesting, but in the end he drew up short. “Hey? What the hell is my bike doing here?” He walked over to his Ironhead Short chopper and resisted the urge to fall to his knees. He thought he’d never see his sleek baby girl again. “How did you…”

Twisting around to face the dudes behind him, he discovered the men had ghosted and it was just him talking to his bike. Damn, those guys were good.

“Where did my team go?” he asked and jogged after her.

“Those men were not your team. They’re Warbucks’.”

“Warbucks?”

“Our boss.”

“As in Daddy Warbucks?” Fuck that shit. “That’s it. I’m out.”

“Really?” She reached for the handle of standard man door and pulled.

Sunlight spilled through the open doorway that was so bright, he had to shield his eyes against the glare. An expanse of red rock and gravel laid out before him for about fifty yards and led up to the steps of a grand, two story mansion, complete with green shutters and white pillars. All around a thicket of woods stretched as far as his eye could see.

“Where are we?”

“Not too far from Deep Ellum, which is just north of Dallas.”

“Texas?”

“That’s correct.”

He grasped onto her shoulder and spun them around until her back was against the door. With the MOD squad gone, he was more than ready to get the actual question and
answer
portion of their talk.

“Tell me about Warbucks and all of this.”

She looked pointedly at where he still held her, but all he did was wait. It was past time to get to the point.

“We’re a privately funded organization. Not affiliated with any branch of the military or government. In fact, we operate in much the same way as you did in Elite Recon, only now the only people you have to answer to is Warbucks.“

“So you’re mercenaries.”

“If it suits our interests and meets the agenda we are trying to obtain, then yes.”

“And what types of people hire us?”

“As of right now we aren’t for hire. We have unfinished business. We choose the missions, and by we, I mean Warbucks.”

He crossed his arms over his check and glared at her. “By unfinished business you mean he selects the missions based on the biggest paycheck?”

“Never,” she growled leaning more forward into his personal bubble. “Elite Metal is a covert operation to do all the things Elite Recon was supposed to do but couldn’t because of government interference. We are here to make things right, then reassess.”

The passion with which she spoke sounded genuine, but he’d been burned too many times to take what she said at face value. “I want to meet Warbucks.”

“Sorry about your luck. I told you, he’s very protective of his identity.”

“Then who lives in the house?”

“I do. And it houses the main offices, meeting rooms, gym, main kitchen, etc.”

“What about the others?”

“The ghosts? They fly out tomorrow.”

“And where’s
my
team?”

“You will meet them in the morning.”

“Just you and me, huh?” He raised his eyebrows and waited.

She chuckled and stepped around him. “Sorry, Commander, but I’m not your type.”

“And what type is that?”

“I’m a vanilla kind of girl. Whips and chains don’t do it for me.”

His bark of laughter was loud and rusty, but sounded good in his ears. “So you have been watching me for a while.”

“Yes we have.” She smiled. “Let me give you the grand tour, then you can settle in for a good night’s rest. It’ll probably be the last one you have for the rest of your life.”

Chapter Three

Son of a bitch. It worked.

Steele lifted his hand off the sensor and stepped through the doorway to the comm center located in a secured bunker underneath the house. His biomedical records, retinal scans and voice signature had already been recorded in Warbucks’ database, allowing him entrance to most of the areas in the mansion. Those that Poppy designated as her private areas appeared to be the only exclusions.

While part of him was pissed to have his personal information on file obtained by only God knew what means, the rush of being back on a mission, to have a purpose once again obliterated the annoyance. Poppy had been right. He would sell his soul for the chance to avenge his team.

Ah, look. Here’s Warbucks’ minion now
. The woman in question looked as professional as ever with her tidy bun in place and a crisp pleat ironed down the legs of her gray slacks.

“Morning, Poppy.”

“Good
afternoon
, Steele. I trust that you slept well.”

“Fair enough, although it would have been nice to have a warm, curvy female in my bed to make me feel more welcomed.”

He did love the way she tried to refrain from rolling her eyes at him. It made him eager to think of more ways to get the prickly blonde to crack. The woman was a looker, for certain, but a little- okay a lot- too much of an ice princess for his taste.

No, Poppy struck him more as the annoying little sister type. A pang of wistfulness struck him square in the chest so he pasted on a cocky smile and did his best to shake it off.

“Do you have any brothers, Ms. Poppy with no last name?” he asked.

She cocked her head to the side. “No.”

“Excellent,” he said with a crack of his knuckles.

“If we can begin.” She turned on her kitten heel and led him down the short hallway to the heart of the communications center.

Waiting beside the huge board table, stood a woman who was so stunningly beautiful that for the first time in his life he was struck stupid. She certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.

Her thick black hair was pulled into a braid, giving her elfish features a more mystical look. A touch of pink graced her cheeks and a pale gloss shined her pouty lips. She reminded him of the fairy figurines his mom had hanging off the back porch that sparkled in the morning sun.

The end of her braid curled down around the side of her full breast. The softest looking white fabric he’d ever seen hugged those fabulous tits. Black leather pants emphasized the curve of her hips and long legs. The perfect blend of sophistication and kink sent the blood rushing straight to his neglected cock.

Oh, yeah. He was interested all right.

He turned to Poppy with a smile, “For me? Thanks. But I didn’t get you anything.”

“Adam Steele, I’d like you to meet Alayna Devlin. You two will be working together on this mission.”

Mission? This was his teammate?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Alayna came forward with her delicate hand extended.

Without realizing what he was doing, he clasped her hand and openly drank in her lovely shape. He couldn’t help it. She was completely mesmerizing.

“Are you serious?” he rasped out of a dry throat.

“About what?” she asked in a sultry, sexy as hell voice with the faint touch of a Russian accent.

“That you’re my partner.”

Her smooth brow furrowed. “Yes. Why would I not be?”

“Because you’re, well… I mean—”

Good god man. Get a grip. You’re acting like a jackass.

Poppy interrupted his lame stuttering, “Alayna is a former covert operative and Warbucks believes she is the best source to work with you on this mission. Now if you can find a way to let go of her hand, we can proceed.”

“What?” He looked down and his big paw was still wrapped securely around her hand. He dropped it as if she burst into flames and stepped back, instantly missing the feel of her palm against his. “Sorry.”

Damn, those drugs they shot him up with must have done a number on his system.

Alayna sat in a chair beside the one he dropped into and turned her attention to Poppy, who typed onto a keyboard set into the tabletop.

Behind her three four-by-six foot smart boards flickered as she pulled up several photos and the lights in the room dimmed. Once she picked up a stylus from the rack sitting on the table and stood, she was ready to begin.

Steele shook his head at all of the high-tech equipment. Ant and Sterling would have pissed themselves to have access to such technology. His gearhead and strategist had pestered him for years for better equipment. Obviously there were benefits to being in the private sector.

“When Warbucks discovered your new identity had been compromised,” Poppy began. “His resources linked the information to a sleeper agent within the CIA.”

With her stylus she pointed at a photo of two gentlemen and tapped it. Video began to play immediately. The quality wasn’t stellar, taken from a surveillance camera inside of a subway system. The signs in the background were in French, which lead Steele to believe they were in Paris.

One guy was much older with long, silver hair pulled back into a ponytail and sporting a well-trimmed mustache. His clothes however were worn, with holes at the elbows of his overcoat and frayed at the ends of his sleeves.

The second gentleman appeared to be in his forties. Well groomed in a tailored suit, he was clean-shaven and had a full head of dark hair styled in a way that made Steele think instantly of the Hamptons and polo matches.

Both men sat on a bench, with the older man huddled in the corner as if he were sleeping. The other sat with his a briefcase at his feet and looking bored as hell as he swiped at the display on the cellphone.