Lara’s hips swayed when she took her bra off. He hadn’t told her to dance. That would be instruction for another time. But he didn’t mind the movement. Lara had such a natural grace. Maybe she lived with music in her mind.
Her bra fell to the floor, exposing her breasts. She massaged her breasts, and he had to shift in his seat, his cock strained for release. Her hands travelled lower, and she pushed her pants down to the floor before she stepped out of them. Russell was once again struck with the image of a dancer, this time, ballet.
Normally, by now, he’d be stroking himself harder. But he didn’t need any help with that, and he was fixated on Lara, he couldn’t take his attention off her at all to do anything but watch. His body was on fire. When had he felt so alive?
Lara slipped her index finger under the hem of her panties, and they were soon on the floor also. She was totally naked. Her pussy was waxed smooth, and her toes were painted pink. Small details. Were her toes always pink, or did she change colors?
How did she decide?
He watched, practically transfixed, as her hands traveled upwards, finding her pussy. She still stood. It hadn’t occurred to him to tell her to lay down. Would she think of it? Or would she make herself come and then have her knees buckle? Russell did not want her to hurt herself.
Her knees sunk slowly, and eventually, she lay flat on her back, spreading her knees so he could see her better. Good girl
He stood to press himself against the glass. Francium couldn’t ever remember doing so before. Her finger found her clit, and she stroked it. One finger—two—he moaned. She was a woman who clearly knew her own pleasure. It didn’t take Lara any time to find her own bundle of nerves. Two fingers seemed to do the trick. She made a circular motion and arched her back.
Francium wasn’t certain how long it went on. She’d hit a certain spot, and her back would arch. He loved the sound of her breathy moans. Russell knew one thing as he watched her, aching to touch her in a way no viewing had done for him in years, she belonged to him.
Lara was his girl.
She finally came, and his cock jumped in his pants. He was so hard, he was about to come without her touching her at all. Boredom was nowhere to be found.
He walked slowly to the couch and sat down, trying to appear less strung out. Lara rose, slowly, and walked back into the room, completely naked.
She looked at him with a level gaze, her emotions shielded from him. “How was that?”
He crooked his finger, and she came toward him. With hands as steady as he could make them, he pulled her against him until she straddled his lap. There was no way she couldn’t feel the hardness of his cock.
“We’re getting that ring off your finger, sweetheart. As fast as possible. My plans have rapidly changed.”
She was not going to be married to the asshole any longer.
Lara sipped her wine and wandered through the beautiful crowd at Jamie England’s third cocktail party of the summer. Remington seemed happy today, he’d made some more money for his terrible clients, and now he was going on and on about needing to see Russell again. Exactly what her Francium wanted.
She took a deep breath. He wasn’t her Francium. At least not yet. He seemed very preoccupied with her marriage fidelity. Remington didn’t heed his marriage vows, she wasn’t exactly sure why she had to. Except Russell was stubborn about it, and she couldn’t get him to budge on the subject.
He’d been hard as a rock, and he’d kept his hands to himself.
Smiling at the waiter who gave her another glass of champagne, she wondered if she looked any different. Was there a glow around her? Could anyone tell she had dropped her clothes and masturbated for Russell’s pleasure—and her own—via a two-way mirror?
Heat rose in her cheeks, and she rounded the corner, exchanging pleasantries with the women around her. She’d often wondered if she could do this song and dance in her sleep, it turned out she could since she was completely on auto-pilot.
Not only was she in the hottest sexual relationship of her life—and he still hadn’t touched her—but she had the means, almost, to save her sister and be rid of Remington.
Thinking of her husband seemed to make him appear and next to him, the subject of her musings, Russell Burke, pretending to be something and someone he was not. Now that she knew him—and despite his proclamation about being a liar, she started to feel that she could, actually, see right through him—his faking-it persona ate at her. Francium didn’t really smile like that. When he was really happy, he didn’t show quite so much teeth.
His gaze caught hers, and for a second, time seemed to slow. He pulled their connection away, looking back at Remington and nodding before throwing his head back to laugh. Oh, he was good. She slowly approached.
Their drive back in the car had been quiet but not strained. She’d watched him quietly as he drove. A muscle in his jaw kept ticking. He was stressed, and she didn’t think it had to do with Remington.
Like the good wife she was supposed to be, she put her hand on Remington’s arm. “You two solving the world’s financial problems over here?”
Francium’s eyes flashed to her hand. It was a split second of time, but she saw it. He didn’t like her hand on Remington. She didn’t much care for it, either. But until the ruse was over, they’d both have to deal.
Her husband winked at her. “Russell and I are going to do some business together.”
“How lovely.” She smiled. That was her standard answer, although she found none of it to actually be so.
“So, if you would excuse us…”
She nodded, her smile in place. That’s all she was anymore. A nod. A smile. A gaze. Except when she’d done what Francium told her. Then she’d been…present. Why? She didn’t want to know, really. Why question what finally felt good?
Turning her back on the conversation between the pair, she decided to enjoy the view. She’d always loved the water, and when they bought the beach house, she’d assumed she’d spend happy days there. Of course, once it had become her jail, she’d hated it. As she had the New York City apartment and the home in the mountains. Viewing the sea tonight started a countdown in her head, she wouldn’t be forced to look at the waves anymore. Unless she wanted to.
“Honey.” Remington kissed her cheek, catching her attention. “Russell and I are going to go somewhere to where we can talk privately. You’re fine getting home, aren’t you?”
Smiling as sweetly as she could manage, despite the bitter taste in her mouth, she answered, “Sure. Of course.”
“See? That’s what you want from a wife, Russell. She never says no.”
Francium raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I bet she does. I bet she knows how to open her mouth and say no.”
“Not if she wants to keep having pretty things.” Remington laughed like he’d made a great joke before he headed for the door.
Russell leaned over as though to say goodbye. “Fuck him.”
She almost dropped her drink.
It would be hours until anyone came home. She walked through the house. In all the years since she first discovered her husband’s terrible business dealings—and he’d threatened her sister—she hadn’t made any moves into his office. He kept it locked. Of course, she knew where the keys were. The time he’d stumbled home stinking of whiskey and practically pissing himself, he’d been so sloppy, he’d shown her where they were.
She walked slowly to his dresser drawer, finding the removable portion, and she yanked the key out. All the way home, she’d fixated on the idea of helping. Lara could do more than shadow Francium around and basically be useless. He needed information. She could get it for him.
Save them all some time…
Grabbing her secret cell phone, she texted her sister. I might be nuts. But I think we might all be okay. Stay tuned for more news.
With a goal in mind, she let herself into her husband’s office. The door opened wide, and no monster jumped out at her, which for some reason, shocked her mo
re than it should have. The office looked exactly the same as it had the last time she’d been inside of it.
An expensive desk, a computer with a screen saver that flashed various beach locations worldwide, a black chair adjusted to fit him perfectly, and a Persian Rug—her wedding gift to him when they’d gotten married. He’d paid for it, but she’d picked it out. The lines were perfect, and she bent over to stroke the softness.
The girl I’d been…
It was possible he’d changed the password on his computer. A smart guy would have altered everything after their fight when he’d threatened her sister. But he’d locked the door, and he probably thought that was enough. He’d frightened her enough to keep away.
Only tonight, she wasn’t afraid.
Fury fueled her hands and surprisingly, kept them steady.
After she entered the date Remington earned his first million, the computer let her in. He was such a jackass, and she was the bigger fool for having loved him at all.
A few swipes of the mouse, and she was into the folder where he kept his tax returns and his client lists. Remington was nothing if not organized. He had to be to keep control of all the lies he told.
Although it would be hours until her husband returned home, she moved as quickly as she could through the files, emailing them all to herself. She didn’t have Francium’s email, or she’d have sent it directly to him. When next she saw him, she’d give him what she found.
Shutting everything down was quicker than getting into it. Minutes later, she’d left the room and relocked it. No one would ever know she had been there.
With her back straight, she walked to her bedroom. Today, for the first time in forever, she could remember who she was.
Once upon a time, she’d been the kind of woman who knew the difference between right and wrong. She’d stood up for something when it mattered to her. Maybe she really could be that person again.
Lara went through her bedtime routine, taking the makeup off her face and hanging up her clothes—some of them going to dry cleaning, some of them not. She put on her pajamas and shut the door to her bedroom. Remington wanted to fuck her, he didn’t want to sleep with her, and that suited her just fine.
If he stumbled home, he’d pass out in his own room as he’d been doing for the last year. Otherwise, she wouldn’t see him at all. The sounds of the ocean were soothing for a change, and she didn’t take her sleeping pill to conk out. She had insomnia, and the doctors couldn’t figure out why. If she ever felt like telling the truth, they would have paled at the reason. But she wouldn’t place the doctors in danger. Keeping her mouth shut was the name of the game.
Things were going to change now. She closed her eyes, and after a few minutes, she slept.
A noise woke her suddenly. With her heart in her throat, she sat up. What had woken her? She tried to identify the sound. There was nothing she could pick out exactly, but there had been something. She could sleep through Remington’s staggering, and unless he’d fallen face down and made some weird noise, that wasn’t what disturbed her.
Lara would never know what made her move. She darted to the left, just the second the first bullet fired. She hit the floor, hard, spots flying before her eyes. A second bullet exploded right above her head.
She screamed, unable to stop herself, and crawled for the bedroom. What the hell was going on? Terror became a living, breathing entity in the room for her. Someone was trying to kill her. She couldn’t breathe, and she wasn’t an idiot. She knew she wasn’t crawling out of there alive.
Life had caught up with her. There could be any number of reasons someone tried to kill her. She would die without know what exactly that was—
A loud bang sounded, followed by a clunk.
She raised her head. If she wasn’t dead, she could look. The figure in the doorway took her breath away. Francium stood like an avenging angel, gun pointed, head cocked to the side.
“Russell?” Her voice shook.
He put the gun in a holster on his side, still not having spoken to her, he picked up his phone. “Titanium, I need a cleanup and Wen.”
His gaze turned to her, the hallway light making it easy to see him. He was with her in two strides. Russell bent down and embraced her. “Baby, you okay?”
“What is happening?”
“Your husband is trying to have you killed. Why did you go into his office? Hell, I don’t care. He called Red Wolf, and they sent an assassin. Just that fast.”
Russell smelled safe. He was warm. And he’d killed someone for her. “I…Oh my God, I can’t believe this. Russell, I…”
“Sshh. All will be well.”
He picked her up like she was a Hollywood damsel whose hero had shown up to save her. She didn’t believe in heroes, and Francium had told her he was a liar. Maybe the world didn’t really have any. She was fine with that. He’d shown up, he saved her. Maybe he was the most flawed, difficult guy on the planet.
Francium never needed to tell her a true thing for the rest of her life. He was her hero. End of story.
4
Francium sipped his ice water and stared at the ocean. It was well past midnight—maybe three AM—and he couldn’t really see the water. But he could hear the waves. Tonight, they weren’t soothing. He had almost been too late.
If he hadn’t heard Remington on the phone, Lara would be dead instead of asleep on a sedative he wished he could take as well. Titanium had thought to send Platinum with some drugs. The sniper had two years of med school under his belt. For the moment, that was good enough. His girl was asleep and alive.
Wen had waited in silence until Francium wanted to talk. That was what was nice about the other man—he never insisted on making conversation.
“Do you remember when you ripped me out of the CIA?” He turned to his oldest friend.
Wen’s expression remained passive. “I remember many things about that time.”
Russell bet he did. After Wen saved his life, they’d fucked like bunnies. “I’m not thinking about the after-party at the moment. More like when you walked in, took me by the arm, and told me I wasn’t an assassin.”
“You weren’t. Not now. Not then. You’re not regretting this shit tonight, right? That scumbag was one of Red Wolf’s exterminators. He’s killed more women than we can count.”
He shook his head. “Just the opposite. I’m not at all bothered. I was terrified for Lara. But, no, I raised the gun. Pop. No issue there. I don’t feel a thing about it. Maybe I should have been the assassin.”
Wen snorted. “I stand by that decision.”
Zinc walked outside, joining them on the deck. “Debrief me, would you?”
“Well, years ago, I saved your life.” Francium didn’t know why he chose that moment to share that piece of information, but what the hell, it was a night for truth-telling—which made a nice change.
Zinc rocked back on his heels, his brown hair falling into his eyes before he shoved it away. Zachery needed a haircut, but who had the time anymore?
“Well, thanks for that. Wow. It was you. Okay. You got it wrong. I wasn’t supposed to be saved. But I’ll say thank you because if you hadn’t, well, I wouldn’t know some things I know now, and I wouldn’t have Sarah Steele as my wife. So, thanks.” He held out his hand, and Francium shook it. Just days earlier, he’d have wanted to roll his eyes when Zinc brought up his wife. Now, he found he was equally obsessive about the woman sleeping inside.
He scratched his head. “You’re welcome, I guess. Glad I screwed up that day.”
Wen shook his head. “You’d think you’d be used to the sensation by now.”
He glared at his best friend. “Don’t help.”
“Debrief, if you will. Catch me up. I can’t get word one out of Platinum.” Zinc shook his head while he spoke. “All he said was Francium’s lady almost got killed.”
He leaned back on the railing. “She’s not my girl. Not yet. Here’s the deal. I came here to work on Remington Reagan. You know that m
uch. I ended up getting mixed up with Lara, his wife. I didn’t see it coming.”
Zinc looked at Wen. “We never do. Go on.”
“I got permission to read her in on the mission. She must have taken initiative. I was out at a party with him when she set off a silent alarm, having gone into his office. He realized what she’d done and excused himself outside, not realizing I was tailing him. He’s rather oblivious to be this high up in the organization.” But then again, Red Wolf wanted people who obeyed, not who thought for themselves. If Francium was going to run a terrorist organization, he’d want the same damn thing. “I heard him set the hit. I guess losing his stability with Red Wolf didn’t count as much as saving his own ass.”
Platinum came outside and leaned against the door, watching them. He didn’t speak much.
“And you did what?” Zinc prompted him, while he rubbed his head.
“I ran. I fucking ran. I got here just in time. He must have people locally. It was fast, man. It was fast.”
Platinum took an audible breath. “Are you outed? Did he make you?”
“No.” The fact that Remington hadn’t gotten home yet was interesting. If Francium was going to guess, he’d suspect the ass would arrive in the morning, feign shock, a scandal would follow, and he’d have a new wife by the end of the summer. Or at least, that’s what Remington wanted since he expected his wife to be dead.
Francium’s blood hit boiling level.
“What do you want to do?” Zach walked to lean against the railing next to Wen. “What’s the next step?”
That was a good question. “I know Titanium wants the mission salvaged, but what do I want? I want to take that asshole into my hands. I want to squeeze his brain. I want to harm him. I want him to feel more pain than he can handle while he signs divorce papers giving her everything. Then I want to make him so afraid—real fear, you know the kind? Not the, oh shit, this is bad afraid, but the kind of fear where you aren’t sure you can draw another breath. I want to stand over him doing that while he hands me Red Wolf’s financials for the next six months. Then I want him to drown in his own spit.”
The Men of Elite Metal: Platinum, Zinc, & Francium Page 23
