Free Game On (The Bod Squad Series Book 1) by Gabra Zackman Page B

either.”
    “Time for me to leave, Mr. Palmer. Please take my lighter,” she said hurriedly, brandishing the lighter with the red lips upon it. “If you should need me, run your tongue along these engraved lips, and I will find you.”
    “Seriously?” he said, both delighted and unnerved. “How does that work?”
    “A true magician never reveals her secrets,” she said with a smile. “Till then, Chas. Perhaps I will see you at some point in the States. I have consistent work from a client in New Jersey. And thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “Well,” she replied, “you are all your father promised. And to see one real man alive on this earth, well—this gives me hope. Which is something I have not had for a very long time.”
    And with that, she stroked his finger with one cheek and left. Chas was left alone, wondering what sense there was to be made of any of it.
    ‡‡‡
    LUIGI RAISED HIS wristwatch to his lips and blew lightly on the surface. Within moments, his earpiece crackled to life. “S ì , signore?” a husky female voice asked. G. Such a turn-on. Having a woman like this as his boss was enough to make every workday a pleasure and every conversation incite a searing pain in his nether regions. In somewhat low-class Italian attempting to be high-class Italian (his way of impressing G, or so he hoped), Luigi filled G in on Chas Palmer’s activity, receiving the praise he longed for. One time he tried to garner more than praise, and he wound up in the hospital for a week with a scar on his dick that, strangely, looked like the map of Italy. For this reason his colleagues now called him “Lo Stivale,” the Boot.
    “You did a fine job, Il Stivale,” G murmured in his earpiece, causing him to harden against his wishes. “Take the rest of the day off. I’m sure Madame de Louvain will be happy to see you again tonight.”
    With a click, he was released from duty. He put his hands in his pockets and made a beeline for the local brothel.
    ‡‡‡
    SUSANNAH, LISA BEE, and the Boss sat in the back of the falafel truck, eyes glued to the screens in front of them. Jackson had managed to hook up the hot dog to the surveillance system on one of his breaks and was back to making shawarma. The candied cameras had been more difficult than they had initially appeared. At first the picture was patchy, but adjustment on the transmitter side seemed to solve that problem. Once or twice, the candy was bitten in half, bifurcating the image and sending a split-screen picture to the homing device of both the street view and the view of the customer’s esophagus. But this only happened a couple of times; for the most part they had eyes on the street for the length of time it took for the customers to finish eating their shawarma. By the time the customers got to the candy, Jackson would instantly remove the link to that particular camera and switch to one of the others that were active. It was one of Jackson’s great talents: he was able to make anything work with whatever he had at the ready. The Boss liked to say that Jackson was his own personal MacGyver.
    Currently, the screens were filled with various versions of the same image: Chas and the blonde making out. One screen had a close-up of their lips, another had a full-length body shot, and another was a still of Chas’s hand on the blonde’s ass. Susannah choked down the bile rising in her throat. Even though she figured that all she was to Chas Palmer was a quick, easy screw, a brief fascination and nothing more, she still had developed some deeper feelings for him. It had been so very long since she had even wondered about someone, and she was embarrassed both about her own feelings and about how easily he was on to the next girl. She felt stupid for thinking there was some greater possibility here, and even more stupid for feeling so hurt that there wasn’t. She had a lump in her throat and thought there was a strong chance that she might lose her