Page 5 of Elite Metal: Warriors

“Don’t I?” He leaned closer and took another whiff of her, though it was a bad idea. Her essence coiled through him like a snake. “What do I look like?”

She laughed and tried to pull her hand away. After a while he let her. “Not Steve, is all.”

“Yeah. Well, they call me…Cobra.” It was a stupid code name, cliché, one he’d stolen from a schlocky script he once read.

But she bought it. Her eyes glinted. Her muscles tightened with excitement. Anticipation hummed around her. “Do they?”

Hell no.

“Mmm hmm.” He tipped back his beer, keeping his eyes on her.

“So tell me…Cobra. Do you live nearby?”

Damn. She was going all-in right off the bat. Based on his assessment, in this situation, with this woman, his best tactic would be playing hard to get. An easy guy would never cut it with her. He decided to prevaricate. “You asking to come home with me tonight?”

“Maybe.”

Well, hell. “I live outside of town.”

“Where?”

“Outside. Of town.” Shifting gears, he shot her a cold glance. “You ask a lot of questions…for a waitress.”

She paled. Her throat worked. Her wheels spun. “I’m sorry. I’m just curious.”

“Yeah.” He motioned to Daryl for another drink. He wouldn’t drink it. Not now. He needed to be on his game. “Some guys don’t like to be asked questions,” he said. He turned away and, taking his drink with him, headed back to the table, leaving her frowning after him with irritation written all over her features.

Perfect.

The hook was set.

Chapter Two

Damn it. She should have kept her trap shut.

She should have waited until she had him drunk and hard and then started peppering him with questions.

She’d blown it, but good.

But damn it, she’d gotten close to him, drawn in his scent, and her brain had fizzled.

Roni picked up the tray of beers Daryl had poured for her and made her way back into the pool hall, attempting to fight off a shaft of disappointment, and maybe a hint of panic. For an entire week she’d been trying to unpeel the onion about the elite military team she was tracking. All she’d been able to do so far was connect the team to a motorcycle gang out of Dallas—and the fact that there might be a connection with Bone Daddy’s. She had a suspicion they were headquartered in a secret base outside of Deep Ellum, but she hadn’t been able to nail that down.

That guy was a member of the gang, judging from his jacket, and definitely military, despite his hair.

And shit. That hair. A long, silky fall of curls. It should be illegal for a dude to have hair like that.

She’d known, the minute she set eyes on him, he was the link. He had the answers. He could reveal all to her.

But then she’d pushed too hard and he’d gone all cold, clammed up and walked away.

She’d blown it.

If he slipped through her fingers, she might never get another lead like this again and her story would be blown. All her hard work for nothing. Marcus would be furious. And Annabelle?

She couldn’t even think about Annabelle.

She couldn’t think about the other reason for her disappointment either. The fact that if her subtle interrogation of him had needed to wander into seduction territory, she wouldn’t have minded.