Seven Books for Seven Lovers
Page 88
Susannah thought of that now as she looked at Chas. Thought of the years she spent desiring revenge against an unknown perpetrator, and imagined Chas had done the same. It was only a hunch she had, that her father had been murdered, and it was made stronger by what her mother had revealed back in Virginia: her father had been undercover for her entire life. And perhaps he, too, had been hiding something that would be revealed later on. She watched Chas with a mixture of envy and pride, glad that he finally had a chance to even the score, and jealous that she didn’t have the same. She wondered when and if she’d get that chance, and vowed to reopen her father’s case as soon as she returned to FTP headquarters.
‡‡‡
IN KHARTOUM, it was just after seven p.m. Mahmoud Assouline had spent the previous night and much of the morning in bed with an exceptional fellow operative, a French double agent named Cécile. She was a fine operative in more ways than one, he had come to find. She could always be counted on for two things: cutting-edge information whenever he needed it, and evenings that rivaled any he had spent in his life.
She had passed him an envelope of information he had been waiting for, something connected to the case his old friend Jackson was working on. Jackson had simply asked him to murder someone, no details, no further information. When they were kids growing up in Morocco, Jackson’s father had saved Mahmoud’s entire family from a series of suicide bombings in Casablanca. Ever since then, Mahmoud had given his unconditional service to Jackson, happy to do whatever was needed, whenever he was asked. That didn’t stop him from being curious, however. He had asked Cécile to investigate the man he had murdered and his known associates. When he opened the envelope, his breath caught in his throat. Mahmoud was hard to surprise. It happened rarely, if ever. He leaned back in his chair and looked through the information, wondering what to do next.
‡‡‡
THE BOSS LOOKED ON, pleased with what he saw. It was all coming together nicely, and it looked like they’d be able to wrap up the case by dinnertime, thereby allowing him to swing by the Chipotle on his way to the local video store to pick up a classic. He knew it was foolish, in the age of Netflix and online streaming, to continue to patronize a video store, but there was something old-fashioned about it that he loved, plus the fact that the two guys who owned it got movies you couldn’t find anywhere else. The Boss liked supporting local businesses and thought the guys who ran it were exceptionally sharp. He was just pondering what was next on his movie list when he heard the door behind him open.
‡‡‡
“NOT SO FAST,” said an accented voice from above, forcing Chas to freeze with his hand on the trigger. “Not without a fight.”
The lady who emerged down the stairs between the Boss and Jackson was stunning. Dark-haired, curvy, a body to kill, and a small gold grenade in her hand. “Anybody moves,” she said softly, “and I blow the whole place up.”
“G . . .” the Italian breathed. “Grazie a Dio!”
So this is the famous G, thought Chas. A perfect cherry to crown this strange sundae.
“Why don’t you come over here with that?” Tyka called from the other side of the room. “I think we have a score to settle.”
The two women met eyes and a deep silence passed between them. It was clear to every member of FTP that an old battle had resumed. “With pleasure,” G said dangerously, and continued down the stairs. “Cugino, hold this for me,” she said, gently pressing the grenade into the Italian’s hand and slithering across the room.
“Nobody touch her,” Tyka said. “She’s mine.” And then it began.
‡‡‡
THE TWO WOMEN were brilliantly matched. Spinning around the room, they fought with fists, karate, jujitsu, and a handful of other things with no name. For a brief time G was winning; then suddenly Tyka had the advantage. There was a moment when Susannah was sure she was inside some version of The Matrix and that both women had been uploaded with fighting skills neither could possibly have taken the time to learn. But they also fought dirty, like street fighters, or girls at summer camp. At one moment, Tyka was on top of G, pulling her hair like a teenager. Then G flipped Tyka over and hog-tied her using a fabulous Hermès scarf. Tyka slipped out of the tie, looking humiliated, and pinned G in a nasty-looking wrestling hold.
The assembled crowd roared and cheered as though they were at a sports game. The women continued to fight, now using found objects: a wood plank for G, a piece of chain for Tyka. Susannah felt like she was watching battle on a grand scale: “Wonder Woman Fights Hellcat for Title of Coolest Chick Ever.” She thought she had moves, but she was Jabba the Hutt compared to these tricked-out broads. Her attention snapped back to the fight as Tyka’s chain was wrested from her; G threw her plank down and gave Tyka a nasty right hook. The crowd gasped as one. As Tyka bent over to spit out blood (and what appeared to be a tooth or two), G ended the battle by pulling Tyka up by her hair, pushing her to the wall, and pinning her stiletto on top of Tyka’s slender throat. “I win,” she said smoothly. “And do you know what I win?”
“What?” Tyka barely got the word out.
“The privilege of doing what I have waited to do for twenty years. . . .” In a lighting flash, almost too quick to be seen, she spun back to the middle of the room and jammed her stiletto right through the Italian’s heart, catching the grenade before it hit the floor. There was a collective gasp of surprise in the room at the stark change of events; then the Italian’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s for my father,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Mio caro Papa.”
‡‡‡
THE ROOM WAS filled with dead silence for a few minutes. Then, turning the tables on everything the members of FTP had heretofore believed, Tyka walked up to G and put her arm around her shoulder. “Finally, old friend,” she said. “Now you can be at peace.”
“Thank you,” G replied, embracing Tyka. “Where’d you get the new moves, by the way? You almost beat me. And I like the work with the chain.”
“Yes,” Tyka replied, smiling, “at least the terrorist I was fucking in Cuba was good for something. That, and fabulous cigars.”
“Oh, I do hope you saved a box for me.” G sighed. “You know those are my favorite.”
“Okay, okay,” the Boss interjected. “Sorry to interrupt you, ladies. But what the fuck is going on?”
Tyka spoke first, turning to Chas. “Chas, this is the employer you asked about, Gabriella Marconi, a former member of the Marconi crime family. We’ve been working together on this case for years. Gabriella wanted to wait to kill Bruni until we had enough information to convict his whole cell. I did not agree. I wanted to kill him years ago, but—”
“But,” G continued, “as I have been cooperating with the CIA for the past ten years”—there was another collective gasp from the crowd—“I had certain rules I needed to play by, and certain pieces of information I needed to collect. Which it seems you now have, am I right?”
“Yes,” said the Boss, “the invisible lady in our ears is the one who can get it all to you. I think she’s already uploaded it to our company’s server. She has eyes all over this place, too, by the way.”
“Yes, I’ve got all the stuff,” AJ said, now on a PA system, which was broadcasting through the basement. “And I dig the shoes, G.”
“Oh! It’s like the voice of Dio,” G said, turning about. “How incredible. And thank you. Sono Italiana, after all. At the very least I should have good shoes.”
“But hang on,” the Boss said, a perplexed look on his face. “If you’re working together, couldn’t you have helped us out more? And what about Susannah’s cover being broken? And why on earth were you just fighting? Not that I didn’t enjoy the display, but it seems a bit gratuitous—”
Tyka held up a hand. “We had to keep our cover, for safety. And everything I got from Gabriella I used to help us. We were able to keep Susannah’s cover from being really blown because Gabriella said she’d take care of it.”
“Ye
s,” Gabriella said. “I hope you appreciated that I leaked the wrong information to the American tabloids. I thought it might actually make a better cover in the future. A notorious former call girl can get in any doors, right?”
Susannah moved in to shake Gabriella’s hand. “Thank you for that. It was actually a brilliant move. I ought to have known a woman was behind it.” The two women shared a smile and a nod.
Tyka then continued on. “As for your other questions, John, I was able to keep an eye on Chas for years through Gabriella’s intel. And because of me, she was able to keep her cover, as I always had her back.”
“As to why we were fighting,” Gabriella jumped in, “it was actually how we met. Early on Tyka tried to assassinate Bruni, and I stopped her. The fight went on for hours. We realized at that time how well matched we were and have had a friendly rivalry ever since. So yes, I suppose it was gratuitous, but not for me. I’m always one for a dramatic entrance anyway. And I wanted to enjoy the anticipation of killing Bruni for as long as possible.”
“Well,” said Chas, “I guess I can also come clean. I’ve recently been in contact with the FBI about all of this.” Once again, the crowd gasped. “Years ago I was told by my contact there that I could exonerate my father if I found the right information—”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute,” the Boss said. “Do you know Fritz? Does he know we’re working together on this?”
“First of all, Fritz is actually a ‘she,’ not a ‘he.’ Apparently she’s been very amused by how tense her assistant makes you when he impersonates her on the phone. I think it’s been very helpful for her secretary, actually, to pretend to have some kind of power. My contact told me that Fritz tends to be a bit of a control freak, but I’ve never met her, never even heard of her till yesterday, so—”
“Slow down, Chas,” the Boss said, looking confused. “Her name is Fritz? And I’ve been intimidated this whole time by her SECRETARY?”
Chas smiled. “I really shouldn’t deprive her of this. When I spoke to her yesterday, she said she was looking forward to your reaction. Fritz is her last name, by the way. She keeps her first name to herself. And I think she was well pissed off when she answered the phone that first day and you assumed she was the secretary. Anyway. You’ll talk to her one day soon. She’s looking forward to it. I think everyone was duly impressed at how you guys have done given the fact that they all thought this was a cut-and-dried white-collar case. Now they think you’re rock stars for having busted ass in a different discipline.”
“But what the fuck?” the Boss exploded, really losing his cool now. “If you’re working with them, why the hell would Fritz or her goddamn secretary ask us to investigate you?”
“Right,” Chas replied, chagrined. “Good question. Apparently this is something the FBI would like us to keep a cap on. This was the perfect example of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was up to.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve been in deep cover for years, John. And apparently I was in so deep that the part of the agency I’ve been working with fooled the other part. Really. I had no idea you were working on behalf of the FBI, or I would’ve set the record straight.”
“ALL RIGHT,” the Boss said, “that’s it. I’m going to call Fritz right now. But frankly I feel like I’m the one who’s been fooled. Humiliated. Bamboozled. And I will exact one small piece of revenge.”
“Which is?” asked Chas.
“That you all have to work for me in the future. I want all of you under my auspices.”
“Good GOD!” Lisa Bee exclaimed. “Then every day would be like we were in an episode of The Mod Squad.”
Jackson grinned. Looking around the room at Tyka, G, Chas, Susannah, Lisa Bee, and even the Boss, he realized they were all easy on the eyes and would make a fine pinup calendar. Private Investigations, a monthly datebook, perhaps? “Naw.” He chuckled. “Not with this group. The Bod Squad is more like it!”
“Hmm,” the Boss said. “The Bod Squad. I dig it.”
“Me too,” said Lisa Bee. “I’m in!”
AJ piped in on the “god mic.” “Oh, I think we’re all in, Honey Bee,” she hummed. “Even the trolls among us.” And as they filed up the stairs, one by one, she made sure they all heard Ella belting out “Our Love Is Here to Stay.”
‡‡‡
SUSANNAH HELD ON TO Chas’s hand tightly as they made their way out of the basement and into the clear light of day. They caught eyes, and her heart almost popped out of her chest. How could she ever have doubted that he was The One? He looked back at her, piercing her soul with his gaze, and smiled a seductive grin. They had begun a conversation that she never wanted to end. She couldn’t wait to get to know every detail of him. He winked at her. She knew what he was thinking. That she was, indeed, the woman of his dreams. And she couldn’t wait for the chance to make every single one of those dreams come true.
‡‡‡
LUIGI “THE BOOT” BORRELLI had been taking a nap in a far corner of Bruni’s New York basement. He’d been called in by Bruni very last minute, and hadn’t had time to sleep after a plane ride over that had been hell on wheels. There were several rooms in the vast area, and he had chosen the one called “Il Caverna,” the cave. He was quite a heavy sleeper and only awoke when the second bodyguard plastered the space with shots. By the time he crept to the main entryway the women were fighting, and he saw G win. Then he watched, with horror, as she killed his boss, his mentor, his best friend. Shocked and outnumbered, he retreated, grabbed his bag, and made his way out the back. He would collect himself. He would take a bit of time, then he would exact his revenge on G for murdering Bruni, for humiliating him, for being a traitor. When the time was right, he would end her in the most violent way imaginable. Her, and her protégée, and the team that took down the Italian. All he needed to do was be patient. And when he needed to, when it was important, he was a very patient man.
‡‡‡
JACKSON EXITED THE BASEMENT, tossing the bucket of meatballs back into the kitchen. It was time for him to make his move. They were ready. It was a moment of triumph. And he and the woman he had his eye on could celebrate together. He was just making his way over to Lisa Bee when he heard his phone’s text message notification, a riff from the song “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp” from the movie Hustle & Flow. He looked at his phone and saw it was a message from Mahmoud. As he opened it, his breath caught when he saw the single word:
Casablanca
14
SUSANNAH AND CHAS wound up back in the town house a few hours later, exhausted from the day’s events but exhiliarated at the new possibilities that lay ahead. Susannah had shown Chas what she and Fingers had discovered: the painting, the safe, and the secret key.
“Why did you take the family tree after you drugged me?” he asked. She was sitting on his lap on his office chair, and he was playing with the tree that was still around her neck.
Susannah smiled, and kissed him, lingering on the softness of his lips, and loving the hardness that pressed against her thigh. “Well, I just figured . . .” She kissed him again. “There’s always hope, right?”
“But then I almost broke your cover,” he said, kissing her again. “And that would have ruined all of it. I called you a whore, which made me nauseous by the way. Worse than that was calling you a joke—sweetheart, you are anything but.”
“That’s okay, Chas,” she said, nipping him on the nose. “I liked how angry it made me. I got a whole lot of self-confidence out of that kick in the ass. And as it turns out, Gabriella took good care of me.”
“I’m glad. It is an awesome cover you can use in the future. But just so you know—I did have a backup plan.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, going in for yet another kiss, “do tell.”
“Well,” he said, “I figured if you couldn’t keep the name Carter, that maybe you could change it to Palmer.”
She stopped kissing him and looked him straigh
t in the eye, ready for a challenge. “Are you making me an offer, Tex?”
He quirked a grin. “What if I was?”
“Well, cowboy,” she said, sliding off his lap and moving toward the door, “if you want to get me, you’re gonna have to win me.”
“Meaning?” he asked, standing at attention with a gleam in his eye.
“Follow me to the bedroom, and meet me ‘undercover,’ ” she said, biting her lower lip. “That is, unless you think life gets easy now that you’ve closed a case.”
“Oh, I may be cheap,” he said, smiling, “but I’m never easy. And with you by my side, Legs, I bet it’ll be one heck of an interesting life.”
Their eyes connected and they both silently agreed. Yup. It was going to be one heck of an interesting life. And they were both ready for it to begin.
“Well, then,” Susannah breathed. “Game on.”
Part caper, part mystery, highly entertaining, hilarious and hot, the Bod Squad heads out for their second sexy-yet-dangerous adventure!
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debut author and actor Gabra Zackman knows romance. Game On was inspired by the more than 100 romance and women’s fiction titles she has narrated for audio. Zackman divides her time between her native New York City and Denver, Colorado.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: authors.simonandschuster.com/Gabra-Zackman
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This book is dedicated to my tireless agent, Jessica Alvarez. She “gets” my weird, tolerates my neurotic writer brain, and has been a valuable source of information and guidance. I wouldn’t have ended up here without her help. Thanks for taking a chance on a virtually unknown writer and helping me make the most of my career!