“I guess I’m next.” I stood and gestured to everyone. “We need to step into the lab for my part.” I led the way out into the hall and down to the laboratory area where I layered a white lab coat over my blouse and skirt and slipped on my favorite pink-rimmed safety goggles. Following protocol, I passed lab glasses to everyone in the group.
The Killer-Bs, who had all been a part of creating these tools, stood in back almost vibrating with anticipation. The Bs, always proud of their work, lived for unveiling the new, innovative tools and seeing the reactions from the team.
Jackson and Mansfield stood close to me to get a good look at what we presented to make the operation in New Orleans easier. “First, because there’s a lot we don’t know about Dr. Faust, Mansfield requested a way to track him on Thursday night through Saturday.” I opened a small silver box holding three transparent disks, each about the size of a large contact lens. “These are global positioning markers made of silicon and gelatin. Once attached to a person’s clothing or skin, they offer about forty-eight hours of tracking before they dissolve without a trace.”
“Don’t they need power?” Mansfield pulled his readers out of his jacket and studied the disks.
“They get energy from the movement of the person wearing the disk. Kinetic energy.” I picked one up and held it out to Jackson. “It’s the same technology used in automatic wristwatches.”
Jackson took the disk and studied it on the tip of his finger. “How do you get it to stick?”
Barry answered, “You lick it. The gelatin dissolves, creating a sticky layer that will adhere to most clothing.”
“In our tests, not a single mark noticed their sticky disk.” Saying the name of the device aloud, I realized how risqué it sounded and blushed, which made the name even more wrong. Mansfield coughed and looked away. Sticky disk? What was I thinking?
My gaze jerked to Jackson to view his reaction. His mouth twitched into a smile. Moving toward me, he leaned into my ear. “A sticky disk caused by licking. I like it, even if the name is a little tongue-in-cheek.”
“Behave,” I scolded under my breath and pivoted away toward the next display.
Jackson replaced the disk in the small box. “I like how you use licking to stimulate the dic—disk.” He served the last word to leave no doubt what D word he meant.
Like a tennis match, everyone’s eyes went from Jackson to me. The ball fell in my court, and heat rose from my chest to my cheeks. His stare laid out a challenge, and the others faded into a background of fans with goofy smiles.
If Jackson had hoped for an ace, I teased him with my backhand instead. “Don’t forget getting the disk sticky isn’t the end of the exchange. There’s a lot of finesse involved getting the disk…well placed.”
“Of course.” He prepared his cross-court offense. “But I always seem to reach the mark.” The heat in his eyes smoldered as the ball, and I, fell deep.
Before we could break the tie, Mansfield rumbled behind us, “Let’s not get cocky, Jackson,” ending the match and redirecting Jackson and me. “I think Q has a few more things to show us.”
“And there’s a lot I want to see, sir,” Jackson quipped.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish