The Men of Elite Metal: Platinum, Zinc, & Francium

by Rebecca Royce

  Desiree Garcia had been talking about her Mendoza for hours. Its place of honor, above one of their fifteen fireplaces, certainly drew attention to the new purchase. She stepped to the side to get a better look at the piece.

  Someone moved to her right, standing too close for comfort. She turned her head, assuming it was one Remington’s friends trying to sleep with her again, and stopped short. It was her neighbor. The one who had watched her having sex. Heat infused her cheeks, and her heart rate kicked up.

  Tall, dark, with the most intense brown eyes she’d ever seen, and he smelled like a cool breeze. “She’s certainly in love with her new purchase. Does she have a party every time she gets a new piece?”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Yes, actually. First time here?”

  “Met her on the beach yesterday, and she invited me. You seem unimpressed. Not a big fan of Mendoza?”

  She laughed as softly as she could, not wanting to draw attention to herself or her neighbor, whose voice—low and in her ear—felt like a private conversation she didn’t want others to hear. Did she dare tell him the truth?

  “I love Mendoza. But that,” she nodded toward the painting, which was badly hung and had way too much sunlight on it, “is not a Mendoza. That particular Mendoza is in a warehouse in Miami and will likely not see the light of day for the next forty years or so. That’s a fake. A very expensive, very ridiculous fake that she is going to keep hung above her fireplace until she dies or gets divorced. Then it will be appraised and the truth will come out.”

  “My, my.” He sucked in his breath. “How did you come to this conclusion? Been hanging out in nefarious warehouses in your five-hundred-dollar shoes?”

  She laughed. He’d insulted her, or at least taken a bit of a jab, and she was still amused. Something was wrong with her. “Before I had the expensive shoes, I used to be a little shadier than I am now. Then again, I might still have a little bit of a bad girl in me. I did get all kinds of turned on letting you watch me earlier.”

  He sucked in his breath. “If we’re going to talk about that, we should know each other’s names. I know you’re Lara London-Raegan. When I was invited here, our host squealed how I’d taken the house next to yours. My name is—”

  “Russell Burke.” Since he’d confessed to knowing her name, the least she could do was to offer him the same. “You work in finance.”

  “Finance is a big area. But, yes, I do.” He smiled, but it didn’t hit his eyes. Was he…faking it? Lara didn’t know what gave her that thought. She doubted anyone else would notice. But she spent so much time having to pretend to be happy, she knew another faker when she saw one.

  She took a sip of the champagne she remembered she held in her left hand. “Is there a Mrs. Burke, or a fiancée to Mr. Burke, or someone who won’t like it that you were watching me have sex with my husband?”

  “There isn’t a soul in my universe who would care. But I imagine your husband might.”

  Lara shrugged. She shouldn’t be talking like this. Telling him she knew where the real Mendoza was had to be the stupidest she’d been lately. What was it about this man that made her behave so completely out of character?

  “I think the less said to my husband on that subject, the better.”

  “All right.” Russell touched her lower back, and heat travelled through her. “Before I leave you alone, because any second we’re going to draw attention, and I think that’s the last thing you want, I have to tell you something. That dress on you is utter perfection. Most of these women here, they have all the right clothes, but when they come in the room, they look wrong…like the fashion is wearing them. You are why they make clothes. You’re perfect, Lara London. We will see each other again.”

  He backed up, winking at her once, before he turned and left the area. Desiree had just finished her speech about the dealer who had loved her, and that was why he told her all about the Mendoza that someone else wanted, but he would sell to her.

  Lara raised her glass to Desiree. “Congratulations on the find, Desiree. I’m sure this a painting that will stay with you…forever.”

  Desiree grinned, her forehead not moving thanks to what Lara guessed was her most recent Botox injection, and practically twittered at the compliment. Lara nodded at Desiree. The people she socialized with over the summer loved to talk about her art background as though it was something they understood. The image they held of her…standing alone in a gallery, looking at artwork, waiting for Remington to find her and bring her to the better world they all lived in.

  Most of her time had been in dusty warehouses, pulling paintings out of boxes and listening to artists yell. She sighed. It shouldn’t have been fun, but wow, she missed it a ton.

  Her husband’s laugh caught her attention. He must have just arrived. She turned to see him in a circle, talking to several men she knew casually. They were mostly his business associates. And…Russell Burke. Well, now. That was interesting.

  With the lights off in her home, Lara could see the scene across the way at Russell’s home. Her husband was there, and at least twenty other men, all of them loud, all of them drunk or high. Normally, she would be thrilled to have Remington out of the house. Better he spend the night with one of his women than come home to her. He’d likely leave Russell’s late and go on to one of the cottages in Southold where he kept the long-term girls.

  Her body felt itchy. She didn’t want Remington over there with Russell. She wanted to be there. Why did Remington get everything when he was such a terrible person?

  She shoved off her lightweight coat and threw it on the couch. Her type-A personality didn’t usually allow her to leave her things where they didn’t belong. There was a closet to hang her coat in. Instead, she stormed across the house to her walk-in closet. This had become her space, the one spot in the house that Remington never came, where he left her alone.

  The only place in the house where she could hide anything.

  Going into her black purse—the unnamed one that she’d come into the marriage with—she pulled out the cellphone he knew nothing about. She quickly dialed her sister, who answered a moment later.

  “Lara, you okay? I’ll come get you right now.”

  Hearing her sister’s voice always made her feel better. “I’m okay. Just wanted to hear from you tonight. How are things?”

  Remington had taken everything away from Lara, and she’d gladly given it over. But the second she’d pushed back, he’d gone after her sister. Lara would do anything to keep Margot okay. The woman had been through enough. She’d find a way out of this for both of them.

  2

  Update? Wen wanted to know how Russell was doing.

  Taking a deep breath, he answered Wen. I’ve got a hard on for the target’s wife. Never quite had this experience before. Not sure how I’m going to handle it. But I’ll get the job done. Anyone heard from Arsenic?

  Their teammate had gone missing, and everyone was worried, especially her brother Kryptonite. It wasn’t that Francium didn’t trust Addison to take care of her business. No one was better qualified at managing her own shit, but it had been a while since she’d gone off holding hands with the dubious Uranium. It would have been nice to have some kind of heads up that she was alive and not rotting in a gutter somewhere.

  He finished dressing and looked out the window. Since he’d woken an hour earlier, he’d been unable to stop himself from checking for Lara. He’d had to put up with her husband until one in the morning. Francium wanted to throw him off the balcony, and generally speaking, he was the most patient person in any room.

  The bait had been placed. Francium had given Remington a couple of tips on moves to make the next day, which would result in a better day for his portfolio. The other man wouldn’t have to sweat it out as much as he had other days. Manipulating the market was complicated, but not too complicated for Zinc, in small ways. He wasn’t going to let anyone lose money in their 401ks or screw the little guy. Fake companies, fake stocks, fak
e funds. All of it looking perfectly legit.

  Red Wolf was going to have a good day. Then Francium would be unavailable for a few days, and everything else in Remington’s life would go to hell. He’d be back in time to help again. Then, he was in like Flynn.

  No, Wen finally answered, and it’s starting to become an issue around here. Finish up and come back.

  Just as fast as I can, brother.

  He looked out the window again, this time seeing who he looked for. What was more, she saw him too, and if he wasn’t mistaken, had been looking for him. He smiled. She was in her bathrobe, a white, warm looking garment. Was she naked underneath? Would she be willing to drop it to the ground?

  He grabbed his phone and held it in the air, hoping she’d grasp his meaning. He wanted her number. In the meantime, the binoculars that were always something he had, and he hoped she didn’t question, would come in handy. He waited to see what she’d do. She’d either respond, or she wouldn’t. He could get her number easy enough, but that would expose more than he wanted to at this point in the game. He was still playing nice guy.

  She disappeared for a second and came back with a piece of paper with numbers scribbled on it. After lowering his lenses, he grabbed his phone and sent her a text.

  Hey, gorgeous.

  He watched as she looked down and then back up. His phone dinged. Hi, yourself. Have fun last night?

  No. Yes, of course. Always up for a good time. Drop the robe.

  Russell didn’t expect her to obey. He didn’t generally give orders. A few instructions before he and his partners went into the club, and then Francium sat back and let her do whatever turned her on. The more she got off, the more he did.

  She stepped out onto her porch so they could face each other without the wall. Or maybe she was really pissed. It would be easier if she hated him. He could do his job without distraction. His dreams he couldn’t force into compliance, but his days he could manage.

  To his utter shock, she dropped the robe. Her hands went onto her hips as she threw her red hair over her shoulders. Her eyebrows raised in challenge. She knew he hadn’t expected her to do it.

  Good girl…

  She’d been dressed when she fucked her husband against the wall. Now, she was on full display. Her breasts were small, but perky. They’d fit perfectly in his hand if he ever decided to touch her. Her hips were round, and her belly flat. She waxed her pussy, leaving it totally bare. His mouth watered. Usually, he didn’t care if he actually got to touch, skin-to-skin, but now he wanted to. Although, he’d also love to watch her.

  I’d love to watch you, honey. To take you somewhere where you could find pleasure, and I could watch you do so. It would be so hot.

  She looked down at her phone. Watching as she read, his cock hardened to the point of pain. That was fast. Just staring at her naked shouldn’t have made him so completely turned on. Not so fast, anyway. He had to adjust his pants. Shit, when was the last time this had happened? He couldn’t even remember. Sex was so boring lately.

  Her hand shook slightly when she texted back. Why can’t you?

  Well to begin with, you’re a married woman. I’m not full of a lot of morals, but I do try to avoid getting in the middle of other people’s unions. Second, I don’t know if you’d like the club.

  She walked closer to the balcony. They were as close as they were going to be without one of them actually leaving their home to go to the other. She typed back. You spent last night with my husband. Do you think we have a real marriage? He plays. Why can’t I?

  Well, that was a really good question. And if he were allowed to be Francium, he’d agree with her. He couldn’t afford to express that opinion. Leave him and I’ll take you anywhere you like. Eventually.

  Like I could? I don’t want anything from you but this. I’ve had enough of your kind.

  She didn’t know his kind, and she never would. Sleeping with the target’s wife…well, that hadn’t been on the agenda, and Titanium probably wouldn’t like it. He wasn’t exactly sure. Titanium seemed to be in favor of love and romance.

  But Francium wasn’t sure that was exactly what was going on here.

  I’m not a kind any more than you are. Shit, I’m sick of this. Come to your front door.

  He stormed away, berating himself the whole time. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he bothering with this woman at all?

  Why couldn’t he leave her alone?

  It took him exactly five and a half minutes to reach her front door. Other than the place where their balconies faced each other, the houses weren’t close to one another. She swung open the door, wearing a robe, which was smart considering this side of the house faced the street, but disappointing nonetheless.

  “What?” she practically shouted. Her outburst forced him to reassess her. She didn’t look as put together as she had the day before, and it wasn’t because of the bathrobe. No, Lara had become a woman on edge.

  Before he could overthink it, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  She swatted his hands off her shoulders. “No, I’m not. Why do you care? You don’t deal with married women. Fine. I’m stuck in this marriage. I can’t get out. I’ll never get out. Don’t worry, it’s not your problem. Maybe I’ll hire a prostitute and do something with him.”

  He forced himself to breathe. “Why do you think you can’t get out? Surely there are thousands upon thousands of lawyers in the Tri-state area alone you can hire. I’ll find you one.”

  Francium bordered on going too far, on losing the character. Would good old financial genius and millionaire Russell Burke want to help this woman? Probably not. But the reality was Francium had a hard time with women in distress. He always had. Maybe it had to do with the fact his father had killed his mother, but he couldn’t stand to see a woman in trouble thinking she had no way out.

  “It’s more complicated than that.” She looked down at the ground and pursed her lips. He understood her non-verbal quite well. No one read people better than Francium, and no one was better than he was at getting people to open up.

  Did he want to use his abilities right now? Not particularly. What he really wanted to do was to hold her in his arms and tell her he’d make it all better, which was weird considering how little he liked to be touched outside of the bedroom.

  “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. But we saw each other. And I don’t mean spotted, like I saw you on the street. I mean we saw each other.” He was more than a little disturbed that as he spoke the words, he found he believed what he said. She might very well have seen right into him while she fucked her husband against the wall. “If you need help, I do know people who can provide it.”

  “There’s no one you know who can help me with this. What I want is to feel good for a little while. Do you want to fuck me while my husband, thankfully, fucks one of his many whores?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t, and you don’t want that either.”

  Francium let himself into her house without being invited. Getting inside would solve a twofold problem for him. First, he needed inside the Reagan’s house to scope things out, and the second was to make sure Lara London-Reagan was not being held hostage inside by armed guards or something equally as worrisome.

  He doubted this was the case. She couldn’t have dropped her clothes the way she had if she was being observed. Or if she knew she was…

  Russell did a quick look around. There were no obvious security cameras anywhere. That didn’t mean there weren’t any, and maybe Remington didn’t want to be observed any more than he wanted to watch his wife. Still, it was a seven thousand square foot home. Someone had to clean it, and they might have wanted to be sure no one was stealing.

  That was the world they lived in.

  He put on his game face and swung around to face Lara. “Tell me why you’re afraid.”

  “Will knowing make you want to fuck me more? You’re a stranger. Why do you care?” She covered her eyes with her
hand. “No one can help me. You’ll run straight to my husband. He’s rich and powerful. Everyone I know is one of his people. You spent last night with him. I’m sure you’re no better.”

  Russell grabbed her and pulled her up against him, whispering in her ear when he did. If there was security system in this house, it was sophisticated; he had no intention of getting caught. “Lara, do you want to get out of here? Do you want to be out of your marriage fast?”

  Lara smelled like baby powder and strawberries, both were probably from her morning routine. The day before, he’d scented a light wisp of lavender, a perfume or a body spray she’d put on. This was so early in the day, Lara hadn’t even finished dressing yet. There was something intimate about this, something about seeing a woman who was never seen in public looking like anything but perfect, rumpled up a little bit.

  She was sexier like this than in any of her couture pictures he’d seen or how she’d appeared at the Mendoza showing.

  Lara nodded, slowly. “Why ask me if I can have the impossible?”

  “Would you be willing to do whatever it takes?”

  She stepped back, wiping at her eyes. Lara hadn’t cried, but she must have felt like she was going to. “Anything. Why are you asking? Do you want a sex slave in return for some help? This is a ridiculous conversation.”

  He pointed at her and crooked his finger. She needed to follow him outside. Titanium was going to need to be consulted.

  Lara wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t stoned. Hell, it had been a long time since she’d been either of those things. So why on God’s green earth was she telling this man—this stranger, whose most profound statement to her had been to take off her robe—that she couldn’t get out of her marriage?

  Pacing in front of her house, not dressed to be seen, she decided she was out of her mind. This was going to be either a great turn of events or an utter disaster.