Elite Metal-ARE-epub (72 page)

Eli might never meet his son. He’d accepted the facts of the situation. He could, however, funnel money from his hidden trust fund to the child allowing him to attend private school—a necessity, it seemed, in all except a few neighborhoods in New York City.

Occasionally, he could watch him from afar while he ate his lunch.

Elijah hadn’t finished his sandwich. Glancing down, he stared at his half-consumed Subway concoction. The Boy didn’t need him to spy on him all the time but he felt compelled to do it nonetheless. As it turned out, The Boy had faced struggles in his young life. His mother died in a car accident when he was two. Her mother, Jessica, cared for him.

Leaving him to Eli hadn’t been an option since he hadn’t known the kid existed. Uncle Sam apparently kept his mail from him and who knew what else. He’d gotten
the I’m pregnant, you have a son, where the fuck are you deadbeat
letters all at once. Since his previous persona, the man he’d been born as, Tim O’Connell, ‘died’ it wasn’t likely he’d ever speak to The Boy at all.

It sucked.

At least The O’Connell money, hidden away where the IRS, couldn’t touch it would give his son a hell of an education. Anonymous donations. Scholarships. The Boy would want for nothing ever.

Except a father and a mother. The same way as Eli. Like father like son. Only in his case, Thomas O’Connell hadn’t been dead, fake or otherwise. He’d been busy with his fourth wife and fifteenth mistress. Most of the time the old man hadn’t remembered he fathered any offspring.

Eli jumped in his seat when the woman plopped down next to him. He hadn’t seen her coming or felt her approach in his gut.
Jeezus—how out of practice have I gotten
? Years as a Marine sniper trained him better. People never snuck up on him, ever. New York and medical school were making him soft.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” The woman smiled cheerfully. She possessed red hair and blue eyes, as well as a string of freckles over her nose and cheeks gave the appearance of youth. Probably looked younger than she was. Eli pegged her between twenty and twenty-five.

Maybe it was the
Star Wars
t-shirt she donned throwing him off. The women in New York were always so put together. Did anyone older than a college student strut around Manhattan in
Luke Skywalker is my Hero
clothing?

And what did it say about him that his cock hardened so instantly when her perfume—
was it vanilla
?—hit his nostrils?

“You don’t, do you?”

Oh she wanted an answer and he supposed he should get used to giving them. He was going to need a bedside manner and he might as well figure out how to communicate with strangers sooner than later.

“The bench doesn’t belong to me.”

If he’d met this woman in a bar, he would know what to do. A few drinks, some giggles, hers not his, and back to his place where he would either introduce her to or continue her education to some serious rope play. On a park bench? He had no earthly idea what he should say.

“Are you studying on your lunch break?” She pointed to his Atlas of Human Anatomy and smiled so brightly he thought she might actually start to glow. “Because if you’re studying I’ll control myself from yapping. I swear I can. I do have a habit of chatting up strangers. A born extrovert, I guess. I’ve never met a person who couldn’t be a friend. I tell my kids to believe in friendship anyway. Well, camaraderie and stranger danger.”

Eli’s mouth fell open. The woman could really talk. And it was so fucking delightful. Maybe he could ask her to continue. She could yammer on and on. He’d sit and…listen.

First he’d have to say something, too. Or she might stop. “I’m not studying.”

“Oh good. So then you won’t mind if I bother you. Unless you do?” She looked at him with wide eyes and despite the fact he didn’t know a damn thing about her, he would have promised to climb Mount Everest in a tutu if she wanted.

“I don’t. Please…talk.”

She grinned from ear-to-ear, showing a dimple in her left cheek. “Oh, wow, a dangerous request. I have a hard time shutting up. Although, I can listen too.”

“I guess both abilities are important since you have to talk to your kids and wait for their responses?” His remark seemed a good, benign question. She’d already brought them up so they must be safe to discuss. “How many do you have?”

“Twenty-two.”

He’d taken a sip of his water and he almost spit it out. “Are you kidding?”

“No.” She paused. “Why? Did I sound as if I was?”

“Twenty-two is a lot of kids. Are you, what, twenty?” How did she function? No, he had to have misunderstood. No way could she have twenty-two children.

Throwing her head back, she laughed. He immediately shut up. Elijah didn’t talk in long spurts very often and when he did it was to give instructions to other snipers or members of his team. These days he spoke only when he needed to in school or study groups.

No one laughed at him. Ever.

“I’m sorry you misunderstood me.” She giggled once more. “They’re not
mine
. Although I appreciate you thinking I’m twenty. I’m actually twenty-six. When I talk about my kids, I mean the ones I teach.” She pointed at the Coleto school across the street, where The Boy went. “I’m a Kindergarten teacher. I have twenty-two kids I work with five days a week. Except for two hours on Mondays, which it is right this very second now. I go to a seminar at the West Side Park center to learn some techniques on using manipulatives for the exceptional child.” She shifted in her seat. “Anyway, I’m going back there, only they’re in recess. I give myself ten minutes here. I can see them, and the classroom aid, across the street. I sit and watch. It’s kind of Zen.”

“And you talk to strangers.”

She shrugged and her red hair moved up and down on her shoulders. “I guess talking to grownups is Zen to me too.”

It dawned on him she might be The Boy’s teacher. He’d read the woman’s name when he’d paid the tuition bill. All the information had been laid out in the welcome letter.

Easy way to find out. He extended his hand. “I’m Elijah Jones. Eli.”

He’d given himself the nickname on principal. If the government named him, he’d make it his own somehow.

“Oh, hi.” She took his hand and shook. “I’m Rose Smith. Look at us, Smith and Jones. It’s British Television. Oh, Doctor Who.”

Rose looked at him expectantly as if she wanted him to understand the reference. As it was, he’d gotten really into nighttime television since he didn’t sleep more than two hours a night. It was always on in the background while he learned how to heal the human body. It had taken him much less time to figure out how to end a life than to keep someone alive, which was probably, perversely, why he did it.

In the sunlight of the park, however, there was Rose to consider. Particularly because she was The Boy’s teacher. His very, very adorable borderline hot kindergarten teacher who sat out on these benches every Monday.

Falling into character was an old habit. “Were you a Doctor Who fan before the reboot or did you start to watch with the Ninth doctor and his Rose?”

She patted him on the knee. “You understood what I’m talking about. You referenced science fiction and don’t think I’m crazy. I’ve watched all of them now. The one who hooked me was Tom Baker. I used to watch him on Sundays

“I guess I do know my television.” He wouldn’t promise to always understand every reference.

She looked at her watch. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to make my way back to my day job. This was fun.” She twirled a piece of her hair on her finger. “Any chance you make a habit out of sitting here? I might see you again on a park bench again?”

He picked up his book. Class needed his attention. “I think there is more than a small chance I’ll be out here.” Especially considering he developed his new habit to quasi stalk The Boy on Mondays during recess. Surprising he never noticed her previously.

If he could have figured out how to take his binoculars and sonar to watch him in the building without anyone on the street noticing or having to break into someone’s apartment building, he would do so. Class scheduling made it impossible for him to follow the child home.

“Great.” She stood up. “It’s nice to make a friend so randomly. I usually sit on a bench back there,” she pointed behind her. “There’s a married couple fighting on it today.”

He must really be losing his touch if he didn’t know who was around him at all times. Civilian life made him soft. He needed to do something to fix it.  She’d made a comment and it deserved a response. “I don’t think we’ll be friends. Not exactly.”

Her face pinkened when he spoke, which was exactly the response he’d hoped for. Eli didn’t want many things for himself out of life. He’d met most of his goals. He did, however, want Rose Smith tied up in his bed while he gave her what she needed. Even if she didn’t understand she required it yet.

“Oh.”

He stood up and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “Better return to your kids.”

“Right.” She smiled and fled toward the crosswalk.

If she also happened to be able to tell him a few small details about The Boy, the child he’d never meet personally, well then so be it. Why couldn’t he achieve two things he wanted at once? The government required him to live a completely benign, hidden life. It was beyond time to find some fun in it.

Rose talked. He’d be happy to listen. Except in the bedroom. There, she’d be tied up and want to obey.

* * * * *

Now

Platinum stalked toward the car. What could have happened to Kent? Young children with grandmothers who wouldn’t let them eat anything with red dye number five in it—he knew because it was a fact Tony presented him with at the last meeting—didn’t simply disappear in such a way where professional private eyes couldn’t find them. His danger radar went off in a big way.

“Stop it.” Copper grabbed his arm. “Whatever happened in there, whatever you need to get done, you can’t run off and not tell Chrome or Steele where you’re going. Fuck it, Platinum, you’ve been trained better.”

“It’s personal.”

She shook her head. Copper was the strongest, toughest woman he’d ever known. Why she decided to make friends with him when most everyone else left him to his own devices never ceased to puzzle him. Cooper and Mercury were thicker than thieves, only whatever relationship those two shared—or didn’t—he wouldn’t pretend to understand. Copper had gone and fallen in love with someone other than Merc and everyone seemed okay with it.

“Yes. And?” She wasn’t going to let it go.

“I have a kid.” He could hardly mutter the words. A year of impossibly long days passed since he’d thought about The Boy let alone told anyone, even the people he trusted with his life, about Kent’s existence.

“I think you’d better go see Poppy. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from the uppity-ups. Whatever happened, it’s only going to make things harder.”

Damn it. He hated when she was right.

Plat wasn’t going to find Kent if Tony hadn’t been able to, not without resources his team could provide. They usually worked in groups of four, each member reporting to Chrome or Steele, depending on who was heading that particular mission. He couldn’t ask anyone else to be involved. Any danger he took on would be his own

None of those facts meant he couldn’t ask permission to go so he didn’t end up with his teammates chasing him down assuming he’d gone off mission.

Steele would talk to Poppy and Poppy would manage Warbucks.

“I’ll call Steele.”

Cooper patted him on the back. “Good.”

“Could you do something for me?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

“Good answer.” Never make a promise until you knew what it entailed. Not unless it was in the field. Then he knew she’d do what he asked as he would. Team relationships were the only friendships Plat ever understood.

“What is it?”

“There’s an asshat in the bar named Tony. I think he’s about to drop dead. I don’t want him to do it here, too many questions.” He really didn’t want to have caused problems for Bone Daddy’s. Tony Di’Fallipi dying at the table minutes after Plat walked away seemed a headache he didn’t need. Plus, needless death irked him. Why let someone die when you could save them?

Some deaths had to happen, others didn’t.

“I’ll take him out and maybe I’ll drop him at an ER.”

“Thanks.” He unlocked the car. First Steele then Kent.

“Platinum.” Copper called his attention. “Sometime you’re going to have to tell me how you ended up with a kid.”

“Copper, if you don’t understand how it works then Gabriel is doing something really wrong.”

His teammate hooked up with her guy months ago and much as Plat didn’t understand how any of their group could manage to have a real social life, Copper seemed happy, which meant she needed to be ragged about it, every chance he got.

“Fuck you, Platinum.”

“I’m pretty fucked. Trust me.”

* * * * *

The Sniper waited for him. She held the gun in her hand and sat with her back to the tree. Waiting. Waiting for him. The woman surprised her. She hadn’t expected there to be a fourth person involved in the little game. It should have been two snipers and the child. The woman didn’t belong in the mix and yet here she was.

Dragging the child away from home before he could be gotten to. Taking him to the remote cabin with the shades drawn. The woman was changing the plan and The Sniper hadn’t expected it.

Plans changed and she changed with them. Just as her husband taught her, before he was murdered. An unprovoked bullet through the head fired by the man who called himself Platinum.

All she needed to do was wait. Patience was the sniper’s greatest tool. Platinum would die. Soon.

And his kid would watch.

Chapter Two

Rose paced the room for maybe the hundredth time. In the way only children could do, Kent Matthews slept fitfully on the coach. He was safe. For now. Only, he almost hadn’t been. Her head spun. Why did today happen? What if she hadn’t run into Kent on the street? Would he have died, too?