Page 102 of Elite Metal: Warriors

She smiled back, but it was a cold offering. She closed the bathroom door and came to the bed. “You’re awake.”

“You drugged me.”

“Guilty as charged.” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture and her smile broadened. This time it held real humor, which should have infuriated him, but instead made him laugh.

He had no idea what she’d given him, but he didn’t like it.

She sat on the bed beside him and patted his thigh. He realized she’d done him the great service of removing the condom and zipping up his pants. As humiliating as this was, at least his cock wasn’t flapping in the wind. “Why?”

“I need to ask you some questions. And I need honest answers.”

Fuck. If this drug was what he thought it was, he wouldn’t be able to hold back the truth. And if she asked him about Ming Kow, his mission would be blown.

What a pity he was too giddy to be frustrated.

“You will give me honest answers, won’t you Coop?” He realized she’d lost the Southern drawl and now spoke in a crisp British accent. There was no call for admiration. Not at a time like this. “Coop? You will answer honestly. Won’t you?”

No. “Yes.” Fuck.

“Excellent. Let’s begin with the simple things. What is your real name?”

“Jason.”

“Oooh,” she cooed. “That’s a sexy name.”

Damn, if only his hands were free. But he wasn’t sure if he would throttle her…or fuck her again. Maybe both.

“Jason Cooper?”

“Yes.”

“And where are you from, Mr. Cooper?”

Did she have to stroke him like that as she talked? There on his thigh? His cock, which had no earthly reason to rise, did.

“Mr. Cooper? Where are you from?”

“The U.S.”

She blew out a sigh, one that ruffled her bangs. “Yes, darling. Where in the U.S.?”

“New York.” He’d been born there. Lived there, dancing from foster home to foster home until he was old enough to enlist and escape the system that had failed him so miserably.

“Really?” She tsked. “So you didn’t grow up on a ranch, I take it. And your mama didn’t teach you manners?”

A sharp pain sliced through him. One that never would have found its mark had he been in his right mind. He was far too adept at protecting himself from that rusty old nail. “I never had a mama.”

His response seemed to take her aback. She stared at him for a moment. “No mama?”

“No.” Also, when he was in his right mind, he didn’t pout.

“So you were raised by your father?”

Damn. She was a bitch. “No father either. I was an orphan.”

She rose abruptly and paced to the window. It was a mercy that she didn’t question him further on that topic. He didn’t think he could bear it. The drug she’d given him had scraped him raw. Tears prickled at his lids and he couldn’t even brush them away. It was damned aggravating.

And funny.