Page 2 of Elite Metal: Warriors

“Nope. Did I mention they were dumbasses? Rent-a-cops. Anyway, the next day the story broke in the National Snoop, outing Brace Sidira—”

“Oh my God.” Copper chuckled. “I remember that. Hollywood’s Horndog Hunts Hommes. Shit. You were there?”

“Oh yeah. I was the one who found the cameras and the mics she’d stashed.” He shot Copper a glare. “She was pretty good.”

“Wait.” Copper leaned in, her eyes glittering. “So you know Brace Sidira?”

“We’ve met.”

She made a face. “See. You pulled the peach. Hanging out in Hollywood, rubbing elbows with movie stars…”

“Answering to Steve.”

Steele huffed a laugh, but then his expression firmed. “So what makes you think that waitress is the same girl? She doesn’t look like a hard-boiled reporter.”

Sterling raised his beer. “Part of her charm.”

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“I never forget a face.”

“Not that face anyway,” Chrome muttered. It was everything Sterling could do to rein in the sizzle of annoyance at his buddy’s tone. He had no claim on the waitress. No reason to feel so…possessive. He had no idea why he did.

Steele nodded. “Let me go see what Daryl knows.”

“Do you have any cash?” Daryl knew just about everything…if you had enough cash.

Steele leaned back and fished in his pocket for a couple twenties. “Okay. Be right back.”

As the boss man headed off to grill the bartender about his new employee, Sterling studied her. With each flash of her smile, each flick of a lid, each twitch of her hips, he became more convinced. He’d always had the uncanny ability to memorize faces; it was as though his mind snapped a picture and stored it in a vault. But with her it was more than that. Her gestures, expressions, the lilt of her voice. They all called to him.

She’d made that strong an impression on him when he’d seen her—albeit in passing—all those months ago, but it hadn’t mattered. It never did when he was on a mission. The mission came first. It always did—or people could die. Aside from that, he hadn’t recovered from losing Dancer. Not really. Couldn’t shake the fact that it was his fault she died. Yeah, the last thing he wanted was a woman in his life.

When Steele returned to the table, his expression was dark.

“Well?” Chrome prompted.

“It’s not good. Her name is Candy.”

“Right.”

“She blew into town about a week ago, driving a beat-up Honda with California plates. She rented a room at the motor inn at the end of town. A two-week lease. According to Daryl, she’s always on time, does her shift with no problems and…” His gaze skated around the table. “She’s very curious about the gated compound just down the road.”

“Shit,” Chrome snapped.

Sterling set his teeth. Damn.

“And she’s awfully curious about local biker gangs.”

Fuck. Those two things alone were bad enough. But twined together? Practically confirmation right there. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Maybe she has a thing for leather,” Copper said with a waggle of her brow.

The prospect sent a ripple down Sterling’s spine, but he ignored it. Even if she did have a thing for leather, there could never be anything like that between them. Not if she was a reporter. Reporters were dangerous as fuck when a man was in hiding. “So where do we go from here?”

Chrome frowned. “I’m calling it in. See how HQ wants to handle it.” Steele nodded and Chrome levered out of his chair, pulling out his cell phone and stalking to the front of the bar, where it was quiet enough for a conversation.

The table was silent as they waited for Chrome to finish his call and report back on how they should handle this. It was clear from the tight expressions around the table, everyone understood the weight of the situation as well as Sterling did.