Page 29 of Elite Metal: Warriors

She’d agreed to help them. Indeed, she had. She’d spent the entire day raking through Marcus’ hard drive, pulling up interesting tidbits for Ant. Admittedly, part of her motivation was the opportunity to fuck Marcus over, though she was secretly hoping for some evidence to prove he’d had something to do with the attack that had killed her mother. She hadn’t found it, to her chagrin. Aside from that, helping these guys was the only way out of this mess. But something else had spurred her on as well.

She’d wanted to do it…for him. This glorious man who made her feel like she’d never felt before. Alive. Awake. Revitalized.

The past few years, her life had been a dark and dismal place. But when he touched her, her soul sang. When Chrome had suggested Sterling keep her at his place, her gut had lurched. Excitement screamed through her. The two of them? Alone? It would be an opportunity for them to revisit the passion that had flared between them the night before. It was a chance for one more night of bliss.

She’d been certain he was as eager as she.

But now…

Shit. Now he didn’t look eager in the slightest.

Dour was a better word.

He continued his bristling silence as they rode up in the elevator. Roni wanted to shatter it—to ask him something, to talk—but she had no idea what to say. She hated the thought that he might take her to his place and lock her in a room and ignore her until morning. Judging from his expression, he might. She resolved not to let that happen.

He led her from the hangar and across a field, past a large building and to a series of small cottages on an incongruously domesticated street. The bungalows could have been situated in any small-town neighborhood. Some even had the proverbial white picket fence.

He headed for one of these, held open the gate and ushered her in.

“I…ah… Is this where you live?” she asked, her voice echoing in the silence of the night.

“For now,” he grunted, and then he pushed open the door. She had no idea what that meant, or the gruff, disgruntled tone in which he muttered the words. At least, until she stepped inside.

As grungy as her motel room had been, this was worse. Oh, it was clean. There was nothing littering the table and the carpet was spotless, but it had a…funk. It smelled like stale beer and…desperation.

Definitely a bachelor pad.

And it could definitely use a woman’s touch. There were no knickknacks, no personal items. Just a ratty sofa, a rickety table and a couple chairs.

It hit her hard, in the gut, that he lived like this.

Without any joy.

“You hungry?” he asked, making his way into the kitchen to an old refrigerator. He opened the freezer, revealing several slender boxes. “I have pizza.”

“I could eat. But…” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a fan of pizza.” Why he gaped at her was a mystery. Unless pizza was his staple. Which it probably was.

“I have peanut butter.” Indeed, the cabinet held a jar of it. And a loaf of bread. And little else.

“Okay.” She sat at the table and watched as he made her a sandwich. Again, he said nothing, and it irritated her. There was much to be said between them, but she simply didn’t know how to bring it up. Not when he was like this.

“Beer?” He held up a couple bottles.

Beer? With peanut butter? “No thanks.”

He shrugged and popped off a top, then set her sandwich before her and dropped into the chair by her side. He studied her as he took a swig. Discomfort riffled. This was not what she wanted with him. Not what she’d been fantasizing about all day.

She took a bite of her sandwich. There was just something wrong with plain peanut butter. “Don’t you have any jelly?”

He frowned. “Nope.”

“Honey?”

“Nope.”

“Potato chips?”

“Nope.”