Forever

Chapter 3

It Had to be You

I hadn’t told anyone of the problems I’d been having sleeping. Mark would probably…. No, he wouldn’t break up with me, not this time. But if he was disappointed in me, that would be almost as bad.

It really was stupid of me to flash my ID in that bar and allow that homophobic i***t to see my gun….

But then Mark had taken me to his apartment and we’d made love, and I had to admit, that was worth a lot.

The first thing I did as I pulled into my driveway after spending the evening with him was to call him to let him know I was home.

“Thanks for humoring me, baby. Have a safe trip, okay?”

“Sure. I know you don’t want to come after me again.”

“Wiseass. I’ll see you next week.”

“Yes. Thanks for tonight, Mark.”

“What can I tell you? I’m the best.”

We both laughed and hung up. Only then did I murmur, “Yes, you are.”

He’d been worried about me making the drive while I was so tired, had even offered to drive me home and catch a cab back to DC.

Usually I was the one who had to be concerned about my dates. It was a nice change to have someone concerned about me, and I found I liked it. Very much.

Having entered my home, locked the door, and secured the alarm system, the second thing I did after spending the evening with my lover was to check my answering machine.

There was one message, and I pressed the play button.

“Quinn, there’s been a change of plans.” It was DB Cooper, a friend and fellow officer at the Company. “You’re going to Bangkok—”

What? The original plan had been for me to fly out of National to London in the morning to meet with my opposite number in MI6. Without waiting to hear the rest of the message, I dialed DB’s number.

I thought it was going to go to voice mail, but he picked up. “C-Cooper.”

Only then did I realize how late it was. “DB, it’s Quinn. I’m sorry. I just got your message.”

“Not…not a problem. I was…I was just on my way out.” Husky feminine laughter told me that was a big lie. “Hold on a…a sec, okay?” He lowered his voice to a whisper, but I still heard, “Gimme my pants, wouldja, angel eyes? Oh, thanks, gorgeous.”

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of kissing and then, “Mmm. You’re welcome, tiger.”

And here I thought “darling” was the quintessential endearment.

“Sorry, Quinn.”

“Are your pants on, DB? Because I have to tell you, having a conversation with you, knowing you’re not fully dressed, is disturbing.”

“Hey, I had a smile on!”

I could imagine.

“And you know, you’re never fully dressed without a smile.”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. “Fine. Now what’s all this about me going to Bangkok? I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow.”

“I told you in my message.”

I was embarrassed to admit I hadn’t listened to more than the first few words of it, so I just said, “Tell me again.”

“It’s our esteemed Director of Counterintelligence’s idea.”

“What are you talking about? Rayner’s out on sick leave.”

“I meant Holmes.” He laughed ruefully when I spat out a curse. “Yeah, I know how you feel, but hey, ours not to reason why.”

I was willing to die for my country, but not because it was Edward Holmes’s idea.

“I’m sorry about the short notice, Quinn, but Holmes has some bug up his ass. You’ll be taking the redeye out of BWI. Your ticket will be waiting at the British Airways counter. I’ll meet you there—”

“What? I thought you were at home. You’ll never get there in time.”

“Nah, it’ll only take me about twenty minutes. I’ve got something that should prove useful.” He lowered his voice. “And if Holmes knew about it, my ass would totally be grass. I’ll see you in about an hour. And, Quinn? You sound tired. Make sure you drive carefully.” The call ended.

Why was everyone telling me to drive carefully all of a sudden? I was a careful driver.

I hung up and glanced at my wristwatch. There wasn’t even time for me to take a shower. Mark had sponged off most of the semen that had covered me, but I’d been looking forward to a warm bath, hoping it would help me sleep. And because I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, this flight would throw off my internal clock even more.

I took the stairs to my bedroom two at a time, took a pilot’s case from my closet and packed, then stripped off my suit, leaving it in the pile of clothes that would go to the cleaner, and ran a washcloth under my arms and over my groin. Once I’d dried off, I put on clean clothes.

A little more than three-quarters of an hour later, I arrived at BWI.

“Quinn. I didn’t expect to see you this soon.”

“DB. I didn’t think British Airways would hold the flight for me, and I didn’t feel like rowing to Bangkok. It’s a damn good thing there were no state police on 495 tonight. I think I broke every speed limit getting here.”

“Well, you’ve got twenty minutes until boarding.”

I blew out a disgusted breath, and he laughed.

I handed my ID to the clerk. “You’re holding my ticket, I believe? Quinton Mann.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Mann. Will you be checking any luggage?”

“No, I just have one carry-on.”

“Very good, sir.”

While she was busy checking me in, DB looked me over. “Neat as a pin.”

“Did you doubt it?” Father had taught me that no matter what might come up, it didn’t take long to put on a fresh suit. I would have looked rumpled otherwise—I’d tossed my clothes off in an effort to get Mark into me faster, and they’d landed every which way.

“When I had to leave a message, I assumed you were out.”

“And because I was out, you also assumed I was—”

“Getting laid? Yeah.” DB’s mouth curled in a grin. “So. Are you still seeing that someone who put a smile on your face and a spring in your step?”

“Yes.”

“When are you going to tell me who she is?”

“When are you going to tell me who you’ve been seeing?”

“Never?”

“There you go.”

“You’re a spoilsport, Quinn.”

“Your boarding pass and your ID, sir. Your flight will be leaving shortly from Gate 1, Concourse E. You’ll arrive in Heathrow in approximately thirteen hours. Your connecting flight should depart within an hour of arrival—”

“Barring unforeseen delays.”

“Thanks so much for trying to cheer me up,” I growled at DB.

The clerk tried to smother a grin. “—to Incheon Airport in South Korea. From there it will be a little under five and a half hours to Bangkok. Enjoy your flight, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you to the gate, Quinn.” DB fell into step beside me, and I noticed he was favoring his right leg.

“Did you hurt yourself, David?”

“Huh?”

“You’re limping.”

He blushed bright red. “Oh, that…it’s nothing. Seriously.”

“Get a little too strenuous with your ladies?”

“Yes. No. It was just….” He was so flustered I took pity on him and decided to drop the subject.

“Never mind. What brought you out tonight?”

He lowered his voice. “I’ve got something for you.” He handed me a book.

“I don’t read Dean Koontz.”

“Time to broaden your horizons.”

“What?” Hadn’t I said something similar to my lover recently? I blinked and shook my head.

DB just grinned. “I think you’ll find the passage on page 146 interesting.”

“Oh?” I turned the pages carefully, and on the page he’d mentioned, I found a shallow depression. Tucked into it was what looked like an SD card. “I’m safe in assuming this isn’t just for photos and that R&D has come up with something new?”

“In a manner of speaking. This is by way of the late, lamented Michael Shaw.”

“Lamented? Don’t you mean unlamented?” No one in the CIA had much respect for men who were willing to sell out the agencies for which they worked, but then Shaw hadn’t been trying to sell out the WBIS; he’d been trying to sell out Mark Vincent.

DB’s grin turned sour. “He must have been better than I gave him credit for. There’s been no hint that the WBIS is even aware it went missing.”

“Hmm. What does it do?”

“This’ll make any computer anywhere in the world as safe to use as the one in your office. If anyone tries to intercept what you’re sending, all they’ll get is what looks like Russian pig Latin.”

“That should throw them.” I closed the book and slid it into the outside pocket of my pilot case.

“Yeah. Well, here we are.” We’d arrived at Security. “Your gate is down thataway.”

“DB, would you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I drove a loaner here. Would you make arrangements to return it and pick up my Lexus?”

“Don’t tell me it’s in the dealership again.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Not a problem. I’ll take care of everything.”

‘Thank you.” I gave him the key and told him where to find it.

He gave my arm a friendly smack. “Watch your ass, buddy.”

“Take it easy, DB.”

He left, trying to disguise his limp with a jaunty swing to his stride. Smiling, I went through Security, showed my boarding pass and ID to the airline representative, and walked through the Jetway and onto the jet.

* * * *

My assignment in Thailand finally drew to an end. From the moment I’d set foot on Thai soil seven days before, I’d been on the go, and it had been a long, futile week. Now it was time to wrap up what I could, file my report, and catch a flight out of the Bangkok airport.

Concealing how disgruntled and tired I was, I sauntered into an Internet café, found a machine that wasn’t surrounded by kids playing computer games—shouldn’t they have been in school?—and casually slipped in the SD card DB had given me.

I typed up my report, secure in the knowledge that if anyone tried to intercept it, all they would see was gibberish, hit send, e-mailing it to Edward Holmes, DCI of Threat Analysis, with a blind copy to myself. The Director of Counterintelligence persisted in poking his nose into Operational Targeting’s business—for a moment it felt as if I were channeling my lover—and logged out of the program. With the card once again in the depression on page 146, I tucked the book back into my pilot case.

I’d already checked out of the hotel where I’d been staying, so I caught a cab directly to the airport.

* * * *

When my connecting flight from London set down in BWI three hours late, I was even more exhausted than I’d been when I’d left Bangkok almost twenty-four hours before.

I deplaned, pulling my pilot’s case along after me, and went outside to wait for a shuttle that would take me to the lot where DB had texted me my car would be parked. The sky had lightened considerably.

It was a fifty-five-minute drive to my home in Alexandria from BWI, whereas if I’d flown into National, as I would have if my assignment hadn’t been capriciously changed at the last minute, it would only have taken me about ten minutes.

Meanly enough, and because I was so tired, I blamed Edward Holmes, not only for causing me to spend a useless week in Bangkok, but for my drive home through the morning rush-hour traffic, which wasn’t going to be pleasant.

As I’d suspected, the drive wound up taking me more than two hours, and by the time I pulled into my drive, I could cheerfully have strung up Holmes by the short hairs. He’d never been my most favorite person at the Company, and now even less so.

Since I had no intention of taking my car out again until the evening, I parked it in the garage. My priorities were to shower and catch up on as much of the sleep I’d missed as I could, meet my lover for our usual Friday evening dinner at Raphael’s, then spend the weekend in bed with him.

The thought of the things Mark and I would do in bed, which normally would result in me with an embarrassing hard-on, left me unaffected, and I groaned. I was more exhausted than I’d realized.

I unlocked the door to my town house, stepped inside, and shut it behind me before setting the alarm. The cool air smelled of furniture polish, floor wax, and a potpourri of apples, cloves, and cinnamon. The cleaning company I employed had been by while I was away.

I leaned against the door and rubbed my eyes with my free hand, then straightened, my attention caught by the flashing light on my answering machine. I dropped my carry-on and stabbed the play button.

“Quinton, I know you’re out of the country.” I hadn’t told her, but I wasn’t surprised Mother was aware. She did have her own way of learning things. “If I haven’t heard from you by Saturday, I’ll assume you won’t be able to make our Sunday ride. However, that isn’t why I called. I wanted to let you know that if Mark is still looking for a place to live, I may have something. I’ll give him a call when I know more about it. Take care of yourself, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mother,” I said softly to the machine. It pleased me that she was willing to lend a hand in finding Mark a new home. I wished I could be there to see his reaction when she called him.

I wished he felt comfortable enough with our relationship to let me stay at his apartment more frequently, but I could understand his reluctance since a WBIS agent lived in the apartment right below his. On the few occasions we had wound up there and run into Matheson, his agent, Mark was always on the alert, like a predator ready to defend what was his.

I blinked, a little surprised to find that I liked the idea of belonging to Mark, of him belonging to me.

I’d never done s*x lightly, and because of my job, I’d had to be careful of being involved with a civilian. There had been long stretches where I’d gone without any physical intimacy, and frankly, hadn’t seemed to miss it—I was the Ice Man, after all—but I had wondered if perhaps I had a chemical imbalance.

All that changed when I realized Mark Vincent was so curious about me that he’d impersonated a friend from my Phillips Exeter days and persuaded my mother to give him an interview. My invitation to dinner on his birthday was supposed to have been nothing more than a clever way of letting him know I was aware of what he’d done, but somehow it had gone beyond that, and I’d gone down on him in the men’s room of Raphael’s exclusive restaurant.

And now we were lovers.

The next message began to play, drawing me out of my reverie, and I smiled.

“Hi, baby. I know you’re not home yet, but…” Mark muttered something under his breath, and I went very still. Did he realize what he’d said? There was a beat of silence. I waited to see if he’d ask me to erase the message. Instead, “I’ll…uh…let me know when you get back. Raphael’s isn’t the same without you. Uh…G’bye,” he finished in a rush and hung up.

My smile broadened. He’d called just to hear my voice on my machine.

Another message started, and my smile faded into a frown.

“Mann, this is DCI Holmes. I know you’re away just now…” He sounded very pleased about that. It was true he’d never gotten along with my uncles, who’d had to work in close proximity with him, but since that debacle with Prinzip earlier this year, his attitude toward me had wavered between falsely jovial and patently resentful.

The Company’s inaction—his inaction—when I and other officers of the CIA had been kidnapped and held in a Paris warehouse was something that under another director would have been unacceptable.

Mark Vincent had been the one to come to our rescue, with some help from an associate of his from the Division.

The DCI’s voice had been droning on, and now I caught up with it. “When you return from your trip on Friday…”

My trip, which had been less than useless, and I was certain he’d been aware of that when he’d sent me on it.

“…you’ll be needed at State. You should be flattered. The undersecretary asked for you specifically. By the way, I’ll expect your report regarding this mission on my desk by Monday.” Obviously he hadn’t checked his e-mail. “Have a nice…er…weekend, Mann.” There was a click and then the hum of the dial tone.

“Bastard,” I snarled at my hapless answering machine.

The last message began to play. “Mr. Mann, this is the Lexus dealership. We’re calling to confirm your appointment on Friday at eleven for an oil change and tune-up. Please give us a call if you’re unable to keep your appointment.”

I sighed and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing, then retrieved my suitcase and carried it upstairs to my bedroom, where I laid out a clean suit and took a shower. I’d erase the messages another time, after I’d added Mark’s latest message to the tape I was compiling.

* * * *

The shower helped, although not as much as I’d hoped.

I dragged myself out of the bathroom and eyed my bed with regret. I’d never been able to sleep on transoceanic flights, and I particularly loathed flights that crossed so many time zones that it felt as if I arrived before I’d actually left.

I was still dragging when I finished dressing. The thought of preparing breakfast left me even more tired.

Mark knew I made it a point never to miss the first meal of the day; he also knew I preferred to cook from scratch with fresh ingredients, but the last time he’d stayed for the weekend, he’d brought a brown grocery bag filled with frozen breakfasts with him.

“I’ve got better things in mind for you than spending the morning cooking, baby,” he’d told me, the corner of his mouth quirked in a grin.

I’d let him stock my freezer, then had caught his arm and pulled him after me up the stairs and into my bedroom.

“You’re a natural bottom, Quinn,” he’d murmured in my ear as he pushed my legs back and slid into me, the burn quickly morphing to pleasure. “Who’d have thought?”

“I guess you think that makes you special…” I’d groaned as he licked the line of my jaw. “…getting a Mann to lie down for you?”

“Babe, I think that makes you special.” And he’d framed my face with his palms and kissed me, ravaging my mouth as thoroughly as he ravaged my body.

Remembering the torrid lovemaking that had followed, my c**k twitched, but I was still too tired for it to do more than that.

I scrubbed my face and poured myself a cup of coffee. While it sat on the counter, I took a box from the freezer.

Pancakes and sausages, courtesy of Aunt Jemima, went into the microwave.

And they weren’t too bad.

* * * *

The drive into the Capital was uneventful. I dropped the Lexus off at the dealership and took advantage of their courtesy service to get a ride to State.

When I arrived there, it was to find a strange woman at the desk in my outer office.

“Mr. Mann isn’t in just now.” Her stare was cool. “May I help you, sir?”

“I’m Mann.”

She turned red. “Oh, Mr. Mann! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t expecting…didn’t recognize…” She coughed to cover her sudden fluster. “I didn’t think you’d be in.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Just yet,” she added hastily and offered a weak smile. “I’m Darlene Copeland.”

“Ms. Copeland. Where’s Ms. Johnson?” Bette was the woman who was assigned to work as my secretary whenever I was in State.

“Oh, er…. She…um…. I was just told I’d be filling in for her. For today.”

“I hope nothing is wrong.” Bette couldn’t hold a candle to Janet, my personal assistant at the Company, but she was a hard worker, and I liked her.

“I’m sure everything is—” She coughed again. “Can I get you a cup of coffee, Mr. Mann?”

“If there’s any fresh.”

“I’ll brew a fresh pot.”

“That isn’t—”

“I don’t mind.”

“That will be fine, then. Thank you. Regular, please.”

“Yes, sir.” There was relief in her expression. “No powdered creamer or artificial sweetener.” She rose and came from around her desk, the skirt she wore flirting around her knees as she hurried out.

This was getting odd.

I went into my office and closed the door, deciding to use this opportunity to call Mark. I took out my cell phone and hit speed dial.

“Vincent.” Impatience in his voice, and I wondered who’d been pissing off my lover.

“Hi. It’s me.” I didn’t have to tell him who “me” was.

“Hello, me.” The impatience was replaced by a smile, and hearing it made me smile myself and feel less tired.

“I’m just calling to make sure we’re on for dinner tonight.”

“It’s Friday, isn’t it? I’ll see you at Raphael’s at eight. Want me to make the reservations?”

“If you wouldn’t mind?” We chatted for a bit more, and he informed me he’d booked us a suite at Taylor House in Key West for a week from Sunday. God, I could use some time away from this rat race.

We said goodbye, and I shut my phone and put it down on my desk. After dinner we’d probably drive back to my place, and then we’d….

Well, if I knew my lover, we’d spend most of the weekend in bed, aside from the time we spent with my mother.

That reminded me: I’d forgotten to tell him Mother was looking for a place for him, but I’d wait until tonight, when I could tell him face to face.

In the meantime, I needed to call Mother to confirm Sunday’s ride.

The answering machine at the house in Great Falls picked up. Gregor’s voice spoke briskly. “Mann residence. Leave a message.”

Rather than leave a message, I decided to try the mobile phone in her car.

Mother picked up on the second ring. “Quinton! Are you home?”

“In a manner of speaking. I’m back in DC.”

“Working? DCI Holmes hasn’t given you some time off?”

“No. He left a message on my machine. Undersecretary Sinclair asked that I come in today.”

“Hmm.”

“On top of that, my car is in the shop for an oil change.”

“Again?”

I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me. “It’s time.”

“You sound tired, sweetheart.” There was concern in her voice. “How are you?”

“Tired.” Damn. I hadn’t wanted that to slip out.

“Did you want to cancel Sunday?”

“I’m not that tired,” I lied.

“Of course you’re not,” she agreed dryly.

I’d be better after a good night’s sleep. And here I was, uttering inane platitudes to myself. I stifled a groan.

I decided to change the subject. “Have you talked to our mutual friend about the condo?”

“Not yet. I wanted to gather as much information about it as I could. I’ll be in the Capital shortly—I have a fitting at Madame Rosa’s, that embassy ball, if you’ll recall—and I thought I’d give him a call and see if he’s free to view it today.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m having dinner with him tonight, and I’ll see about bringing him along on Sunday.” I completely forgot about wanting to see his reaction on learning my mother was bent on helping him find a new home.

“Don’t pressure him, sweetheart. If he’d prefer not to ride….”

“He’ll ride, Mother. If only to prove to the horse who’s the boss.” There was a tap on my door, and my temporary secretary let herself in. “I have to go now, Mother. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Yes. Take care of yourself, Quinton. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” I frowned at the woman standing before my desk. “Yes, Ms. Copeland?”

“Your coffee, sir. I also have a list of the meetings you need to attend.”

“Meetings?” I stared at the stack of paperwork. I’d been under the impression I’d been called in to deal with that.

“And the undersecretary wants you to join him in the dining room for lunch at his usual time.”

“All right. Damn.” I gestured toward the files. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to get to these.”

“Oh, I can have someone take care of them for you, sir.”

“Can you?” Then why had the undersecretary insisted I come in today? This was getting even odder. “That’s very efficient of you. Thank you. Now, who am I supposed to see first?”

* * * *

Shortly after one, I excused myself from a meeting that was as futile as my week in Bangkok had been and joined the undersecretary in his private dining room.

“It’s good to see you again, Quinton, although I must say you’re looking a little worse for wear.”

“It’s been a difficult week. You understand I can’t talk about it.”

“Of course not.” He sat, and I took the seat to his right. “Sample this fruit cup, why don’t you? Christopher is trying something new. It has a strawberry dressing.”

I tasted it. “Very good.”

“Christopher will be pleased to know you’re enjoying it. He always said you have the palate of an epicure.” He reached for a roll and began to butter it. “Tell me. How is your uncle?” Undersecretary Sinclair had been at State since the Johnson administration. He’d known my Uncle Tony and had readily agreed when he’d asked him to give me a cover position as his assistant.

“Uncle Tony is doing well, thank you.”

“I think we were all quite surprised when he followed Bryan into retirement.” He frowned.

Uncle Bryan should have been given the position now held by Edward Holmes. When he’d been passed over for it and had learned that it was Holmes’s intention to reduce him to a glorified pencil pusher, he’d decided there was nothing more for him at the Company and had retired to the West Coast.

“They’ve found a mansion that’s reputed to have been the home of Ramon Navarro at one time. While Bryan is working on CIA—you’re aware he’s technical advisor of the series?”

He touched his napkin to his lips, not quite concealing a smile. “Indeed I am. It’s the only reason why I watch it. And I was quite pleased when it was renewed for a second season.”

“It keeps him out of mischief.” And it was making Holmes insane, worrying that my uncle might leak trade secrets. As if a Sebring would ever do anything like that. “At any rate, Uncle Tony is keeping busy, overseeing the mansion’s restoration.”

“I imagine he’s cutting a swath through all the ladies in Hollywood, young and old alike.”

I paused in taking a bite of my own roll. I wasn’t about to tell him that Uncle Tony had fallen in love with a woman who was a third his age, and who had a child from a previous relationship. Mother had flown out to California to meet her and the girl, and had returned home ambivalent.

“I’ve never seen your uncle so besotted,” she’d told me.

“Over this woman, or over the fact that she brings him a ready-made family?”

“Truthfully? I was unable to tell. Tony won’t hear a word against her, not that I was foolish enough to say anything.”

Sebrings might dally where they would, but once they fell in love, it was forever. Which was fortunate for Father, since he’d taken one look at Mother, fallen head over heels, and had proceeded to sweep her off her feet.

“And she?”

Mother had shrugged. “She rides. At least they have that in common.”

“Don’t be difficult, Mother. You know what I meant. What are her feelings toward Uncle Tony?”

“She seems to care a great deal for him. Whether that’s as a spouse, a father for her child, or a meal ticket, remains to be seen.”

“Do you want me to look into her background?”

“That won’t be necessary, sweetheart.” She’d given a tight smile. “I have a…friend keeping an eye on how things go.” She still kept in touch with people she’d known when she’d deciphered Russian codes during the Venona Project. “If this woman breaks my brother’s heart, she’ll have me to answer to.”

And they called women the weaker s*x.

I turned my attention back to the conversation.

“Your uncle always was a cool customer.”

“The California climate seems to suit him,” I remarked, being deliberately obtuse. The undersecretary laughed.

“Anthony is a good man, one of the best.” He began to speak of his earliest days at State, when Anthony Sebring II had taken a young law clerk under his wing and begun grooming him to become undersecretary, and the meal passed pleasantly.

However, I was no clearer as to why I’d been called in to State today.

After a dessert of lemon mousse in an edible chocolate cup, he touched his napkin to his mouth a final time and rose from the table. I followed suit.

“Well, I imagine I’ve bent your ear enough, Quinton.” We walked out of the dining room and back to his office. “It was kind of you to come in and join me for lunch, especially after returning so recently from the Far East.”

“Excuse me, sir, but I thought you had requested me to come in to clear the paperwork on my desk.” I worried my lip. No one outside my department was supposed to be aware of that mission to Bangkok.

“Why would I do that? There are plenty of young men, and young women, if it comes to that, who are more than capable of entering those reports.”

Why, indeed? “Perhaps I misunderstood.”

“From where did you get those instructions?”

I gave a quick glance around the crowded corridor. “Where do you think, sir?”

“Like that, is it? If I recall correctly, your caller, who I’ll allow to be nameless for the time being, was also responsible for the fact that the rescue of you and other members of the Intelligence community this past spring was thanks to the efforts of the WBIS and not the CIA.”

“I wasn’t aware that was known by any other than DCI Holmes, General Kirkpatrick, and Director Wallace.”

“Information has a way of leaking out, my boy.” He gave me a shrewd look. “You’re too much the son of your parents not to get to the bottom of this. I have no doubt that you will.”

I said something noncommittal, and we shook hands. “It was good seeing you again, sir.”

* * * *

I returned to my office.

“Oh, Mr. Mann, the Lexus dealership called.” Ms. Copeland picked up a yellow Post-it. “Your vehicle needs an oil filter, but they’re out of the ones for your model. They’re having one flown down from their New York affiliate, but it won’t get here until after hours tonight. They’ll work on it tomorrow. Also, they apologize, but they have no vehicles available to loan you.”

And there were no rental agencies either? I was too tired to give more than a passing thought as to what the f**k was going on.

“All right.” I could take a cab to Raphael’s after work, and as for picking up my Lexus, I had no doubt Mark would be willing to drive me to the dealership tomorrow. “Thank you.”

I went into my office and shut the door. The number of files remaining on my desk seemed greatly reduced. I sat down and turned on my computer, and while I waited for it to warm up, I checked my cell phone for messages.

There were two.

Mark. Short, sweet, and it felt like a slap in the face.

“I can’t make it tonight. Sorry.”

What…? For a second, I couldn’t catch my breath.

The other message was from Mother. “I’m going to look over a condominium with Mark, sweetheart.”

I was abashed at how quickly I’d been ready to think Vincent would throw me over.

“The condo is in Aspen Reach, and it’s listed by Francesca Dashwood, Allison’s sister-in-law. Allison asked me to send some business her way.”

Mother would do it as a favor to the woman who had been her “big sister” when she’d been initiated into Tau Zeta Epsilon at Wellesley and her matron-of-honor, as well as my godmother.

“Mark is insisting on driving me home from Aspen Reach, so I’m going to insist he stay for dinner. If you want to keep your usual Friday arrangement, I would suggest you call Gregor. He’s in town and will be more than happy to have someone to talk to on the drive home.”

I dialed Gregor’s cell phone.

“Quinn! How was your trip?” He would know about it—he’d been FBI before he left to become Mother’s butler-c*m-bodyguard.

“A complete waste of time. I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Will you be joining us for dinner tonight? Oh, wait. I forgot. It’s Friday.” He sounded disgruntled.

“As a matter of fact, I will be joining you, if you’d be kind enough to pick me up at State. I need a ride.”

“What’s the matter with the Lexus?”

“Nothing. It’s in for an oil change and a tune-up.”

“Didn’t you just have that done? Damned imports. Okay, I’ll pick you up—when?”

“About four thirty?”

“Good. That should get us home in time for me to make something…special for dinner.”

“Whatever you’ll be making, you’ll have to make sure it’s enough for four.”

“I know. Your mother told me we’d be having a guest.” He sneered the word. “I don’t know how you can trust that man, Quinn.”

“He saved my life, Gregor.”

“So buy him something as a token of your gratitude.”

“I think I owe him something more than monetary remuneration, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but I just hope you don’t give him your heart.”

“What?”

“s**t. Pretend you didn’t hear me say something so stupid. I’ll see you at four thirty, Quinn.” He hung up.

For a second, I couldn’t catch my breath. I’d never worried about giving away my heart—I’d had my one true love back when I was fifteen, and he’d spurned me, and since Manns and Sebrings only loved once, that had been my chance at the brass ring, the golden ticket. When Mark Vincent came into my life and eventually my bed, love was the last thing that had crossed my mind.

The phone on my desk buzzed, providing a welcome distraction. “You have another meeting, Mr. Mann.”

* * * *

At four thirty on the dot, Gregor pulled up in the Town Car.

I opened the passenger door, got into the front seat, and waited for him to say something about our previous conversation.

“You’re looking tired, Quinn.”

“Good afternoon to you too, Gregor,” I said dryly. Apparently he had as little desire to bring it up as I did.

He scowled at me, waited until I buckled up, and then eased the car away from the curb. “What’s the story with Holmes sending you to Bangkok?”

“That was supposed to be classified.”

He snorted. “I might not have been CIA, but I was a damned good FBI agent.”

“Everyone seems to know I was in Bangkok. Even Undersecretary Sinclair.”

“Hmm. It sounds as if there was a leak.”

“Possibly.”

“But there’s something else bothering you.”

“There was a message from Holmes on my machine when I got home this morning, telling me the undersecretary had requested me to come in to State today, ostensibly to clean up some paperwork.”

“But?”

“But when I got there, the undersecretary knew nothing about it. He said it could have been dealt with by anyone in State.”

“Hmm.”

“Yes.”

“And that trip to Bangkok was worse than useless.”

“Yes.”

“And this isn’t the first wild goose chase he’s sent you on.”

I leaned my head back against the headrest. “No.”

“Sounds to me like general pissiness on the DCI’s part.”

I had to laugh at that, but it did sound passive-aggressive, now that I thought about it. “But why? That’s the epitome of unprofessionalism.”

“If I recall correctly, he’s had a wild hair up his ass since that FUBAR in Paris. He wasn’t happy that someone not CIA was involved in your rescue.”

“But Mother was going to have someone come looking for me anyway. Benjamin Monroe, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes. However, Monroe wasn’t WBIS; he was someone your uncle, who had been CIA, recommended.”

“Still—”

“Quinn, Vincent stuck his nose where it wasn’t wanted. Or needed.”

“But if Vincent hadn’t stepped in…” I was trying to be reasonable, but I found it difficult. I should have known he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to snipe at Mark. “…I would have wound up dead, Gregor. I have no doubt about it.”

“Yes, well, I do. You’re the son of Nigel and Portia Mann. You’d have gotten yourself out.”

“No, Gregor, I’d be dead now,” I reiterated, and I could hear him grind his teeth. “Vincent’s a good man, and I…like him.” I hoped he hadn’t noticed the minute hesitation.

“You’re infatuated with him.”

“I’m not fifteen anymore.”

When it had been time to go home from the wine country around Avignon, I’d left my first lover with avowals of everlasting love. Average height, with wild, dark looks, Armand Bauchet was the love of my life; I was positive of it. When the single, stilted letter I sent him—even at fifteen, I knew better than to commit anything indiscreet to paper—was returned with an equally stilted note from his parents informing me Armand had been sent away, and I was never to attempt to contact him again, I was certain my heart had cracked in two and would never heal. The more so when it became apparent he wouldn’t try to go against his parents’ wishes.

“I won’t tell you no one dies of a broken heart, Quinn.” Gregor had sat beside me, his arm around my shoulders.

“But no one does?”

“No one does. Although it feels really shitty. And don’t tell your mother I said that.” He’d rubbed my arm, his attempt at being reassuring, and surprisingly, it had helped. “And one day you’ll look back on this time with fondness, and if there’s any regret, it will simply be that you wasted a moment of time grieving over him.”

Now he took his eyes from the road for a second to meet mine, then shook his head and seemed to deflate. “And you’re not going to stop seeing Vincent just because I happen to think he’s wrong for you.”

“I’m not fifteen,” I said once again.

“No, you’re not.”

“And I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”

“This is my life, Gregor.”

“All right. But I should have shot him before I let him step one foot into your mother’s house.”

“You didn’t know it was him.”

“Don’t remind me. Who’d have thought he would do something so unpredictable?” He snorted. “What am I saying? Vincent’s middle name is unpredictable.”

I laughed, but leaned forward to turn on the radio. The station was a classical one that Mother favored, and Debussy’s “Clair de lune” filled the car.

Gregor took the hint and concentrated on driving us to Great Falls, and twenty minutes later pulled into the garage.

“I’ve got some plump, fresh shrimp that will make a nice scampi,” he said as we entered the house.

“That calls for garlic, if I recall.”

“Yeah. A lot of it.” He grinned, and in spite of his best attempt to appear innocent, that grin was evil, but I couldn’t prevent myself from smiling back at him. “Why don’t you go up to your room and lie down for a while?”

“You know I won’t be able to fall asleep.”

“Try anyway.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Go.”

I went up the stairs to the suite of rooms that had been mine since before I’d entered Phillips Exeter.

The room was spotless, not a speck of dust on the furniture, not a wrinkle in the curtains or bedspread that Mother had changed seasonally, even though I was no longer living there.

On one wall were framed photos of the horses I had ridden. Darling, my first pony, Jack Be Nimble and Quasimodo, the horses I would have taken to Moscow with me for the 1980 Summer Olympics, and Montezuma, the horse I took to Seoul and the Pentathlon in the summer of ‘88.

Trophies and blue ribbons from show jumping and dressage competitions were in a cabinet my father and I had built together when I was nine. It wasn’t perfect, but I treasured it. I smiled. I’d heard some choice words when he’d slipped with the hammer and hit his thumb, and he’d made me promise not to repeat them in front of Mother.

On the opposite wall was a bookcase that held classics such as The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Count of Monte Cristo, and A Tale of Two Cities.

Beside the bookcase was a pair of crossed dueling swords. I thought briefly of the sword Mark had in his living room. It had belonged to Basil Rathbone, and Mark had provenance stating it had been used by the actor in Captain Blood, The Adventures of Robin Hood, and The Mark of Zorro.

I removed my suit jacket, loosened my tie, and went into the bathroom to freshen up. I didn’t bother lying down. The occasional nightmare I’d been having had escalated over the past week to the point where I was reluctant to even try to sleep; I knew that had contributed to my exhaustion.

I crossed to the bookcase and took down a book. There was a window seat fitted in the bay window that overlooked the back lawn, and I made myself comfortable on the padded cushions. I began to leaf through The Three Musketeers.

My eyes grew heavy, the words blurred, and before I realized it, I had dozed off.

I sat in a corner of the cell, my arms wrapped around my knees, trying to conserve what body heat I could. The cold and damp had seeped into my bones, and I shivered uncontrollably. A heavy chain shackled me to the wall. It had started to rub my ankle raw, and I no longer paced the confines of my cell.

I’d lost track of time, had no idea how long I’d been imprisoned in this place. I was starting to believe that I was destined to die here.

Had they forgotten me, the people for whom I worked?

When I heard the key in the lock, I looked up, expecting to see Max, the little Frenchman who had been caring for me in between beatings administered by Etienne and Gaston, henchmen of the madman who’d had me kidnapped.

Instead, it was the dastardly duo themselves.

Rather than have them think I was intimidated by them, I hauled myself to my feet.

“That time again, is it, boys?”

Gaston glared at me. Then his expression shifted to a combination of sly and lecherous. He spoke to me in French. “The Administrator has a visitor who is most desirous of…” His leer became even more pronounced. “…having you on your knees before him.”

“I kneel to no man.”

“You fool. You will kneel to Mark Vincent.”

“Vincent?” My heart gave a stutter.

“Ah. You know the man. I look forward to seeing him f**k that pretty mouth of yours.”

“In your dreams, pig.”

A hard flush colored his cheeks, and he backhanded me. I rolled with it; otherwise he could have easily fractured my cheekbone.

“‘Tienne,” he snarled, “free him.”

“Gaston…” The larger man seemed uneasy. “I do not think…”

“That is your trouble, imbecile. You do not think. Do what I say.”

“Of course.” Etienne’s tone was resentful, but he obeyed him.

They dragged me down the long, dim corridor, Gaston muttering in detail what Vincent intended to do to me. Sodomy, both oral and anal, featured largely in it.

“And once this Mark Vincent is done with you, then it will be our turn, eh, ‘Tienne?”

But I knew that escape and retribution were in the offing. Vincent, my lover, was here to rescue me.

I’d been in the interrogation room before, had been drugged and beaten there, and I couldn’t prevent a shudder as the two shoved me through the doorway, but I was ready to put on the performance of a lifetime.

“Ah, M. Mann,” the Administrator purred, “you’re here just in time to say au ‘voir to M. Vincent.”

“I should have known you’d be behind this—” I started to growl, but then I caught sight of him, and the words caught in my throat.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Battered, broken, bloody—Mark was on his feet only through an act of sheer will. He gazed at me, all trace of his normally cocky attitude vanished, and I felt myself turn as gray as the room.

“No.”

“Mais oui, M. Mann.”

A shot rang out, reverberating in the confines of the room, there was a sodden thud, and my body flinched as if it had taken the bullet.

Mark lay on the floor, a small, neat hole between his eyes, which stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Blood pooled beneath his head, obscenely red on the stark white floor.

“No! He can’t be dead!”

“Oh, but he is, M. Mann.”

I went to him, one faltering step at a time, like a marionette whose strings had been sliced through, and dropped to my knees. I gathered his lifeless body in my arms and cradled his ruined head. Blood soaked into my sleeve.

“Such a disappointment, I’m afraid. His weakness for you, you see, M. Mann. He was no longer the perfect killing machine.” The Administrator grinned at me, the expression in his eyes showing he had parted complete company with sanity. “And now I’ll shoot you.”

He pointed the gun at me. In a matter of moments, I would be dead. I thought fleetingly of Mother, of my uncles, of friends who would mourn my passing, but I was uncaring. My lover was already dead.

I watched as the Administrator’s finger tightened on the trigger.

The gun fired and….

I jerked upright, lost my balance, and slid off the window seat onto the floor. My stomach heaved, and I scrambled to my feet and bolted into the bathroom, reaching the commode in time to empty my stomach of the lunch Christopher had worked so hard to create.

I leaned against the commode and shuddered. It had only been a nightmare.

Only. I gave a short laugh. That nightmare had been haunting me for weeks, growing increasingly more violent, until now, in every one, Mark wound up dead.

Finally, I rose to my feet, rinsed out my mouth, and splashed water on my face. Under control once more, I tidied my appearance and then returned to the bedroom, put on my jacket, and went downstairs.

Gregor gave me a sharp look, but all he asked was, “Were you able to catch forty winks?”

“You know I’m good for nothing if I try to take a nap.”

“I didn’t ask you that.”

I gave a huff. “No, you didn’t.” Stubbornly, I refused to answer. What good would it do, telling him about the nightmare?

“You look like s**t, Quinn, and your mother is not going to be happy with me.”

“You’re not my nursemaid, Gregor.”

“No. But I’m your friend.”

“Then be my friend, and please don’t nag.”

His eyebrow climbed toward his hairline. “Yes, sir.”

“Pain in the ass.” But it was muttered softly under my breath so he wouldn’t hear. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. “Gregor…”

“Never mind. They’re here.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard the car pull into the driveway.”

I opened the front door and went out onto the steps just as the car rolled to a stop in the drive. Mother got out, and I hurried across the lawn to greet her.

“You’re looking tired, sweetheart.”

“I’m very glad it’s Friday, Mother. It’s been a long week. I was at State today.” I couldn’t take my eyes off Mark. He was alive, not a single drop of blood obscuring his looks, not a single broken bone protruding through his skin. “You know how that can be. On top of that, the Lexus needed to go in for its eighteen-thousand-mile tune-up. It’s a good thing your message let me know that Gregor was in town. I called him and got a lift.” I was rambling.

Mother was aware of all of that. There was concern in her eyes.

“Mrs. Mann.” Gregor’s hands were fisted on his hips.

“I’m coming, Gregor.” Mother took my hand, and I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. She must have accepted it, because she let me go and turned to join Gregor on the steps.

Mark came around his car. “Mann. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Mother’s message also let me know she was going to look at a condominium with you. What did you think of Aspen Reach?”

“The community is okay.” He fell into step beside me, and we walked toward the house.

“Only okay? What about the condo?”

“Barring any unforeseen difficulties—and I don’t think there will be any, they’re desperate to unload it—it’s mine.” He was in a very good mood.

Mother paused, looked over her shoulder. “Goodness knows Francesca worked hard enough to sell it. And that wasn’t all she was selling.” She smiled grimly, climbed the steps, and disappeared into the house.

“Francesca?” I stopped dead. Was that why he was in such a good mood? Was he becoming interested in this woman? Mark walked past me. He didn’t even realize I was no longer beside him.

And then he did. He stopped and looked back at me. “Quinn?”

“Should I be jealous?” I didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. I’d been tortured by nightmares, and he’d been screwing around.

“She isn’t my type, Mann.”

I ignored him and went into the house. He was right behind me, and he pinched my ass. When I turned to glare at him, he grinned at me.

“Unless she’s hiding them behind blue contacts, she doesn’t have hazel eyes.”

“And you mean to say that if she did, you’d find her…interesting?”

His jaw dropped. “Quinn, what…” Now he was concerned?

“Well, if you want to f**k her, don’t let me stop you, Vincent.” I brushed my hair out of my eyes and gave him a cool look. Manns did not reveal to anyone the fact that they were bleeding inside. I started to walk away from him.

“Are you kidding?” He grabbed my arm, jerking me to a halt. “You think I’d do something like that to you?”

“Why not? You’re…” Before I could tell him that he was free and over twenty-one, he pulled me against him and slammed his mouth onto mine.

I could have freed myself easily. He might have been WBIS, but I came from a long line of officers, agents, and spies. I could have taken him. If that had been what I’d wanted to do.

But I didn’t want to do that. I sighed into his mouth and leaned into him.

“Mann, what the f**k is up?”

“I just needed to know…” That I wasn’t setting myself up for a fall. “I’m sorry. It’s been a b***h of a day, ending an all-time b***h of a week.”

“You’re gonna piss and moan one time too often, and then…”

“You’re going to leave me?” Oh, that was very smart, Mann. Why not just come right out and tell the man you’ve got it bad for him?

“No. CIA i***t. I’m gonna knock you on your ass.”

“You’ve already knocked me on my ass.”

“I have?”

“Didn’t you know?” What was the point in trying to deny what I felt for him? He was Mark Vincent. He’d probably already figured it out, and since he wasn’t laughing his ass off, maybe…I kissed him and whispered against his lips, “I’m disappointed in you.”

“Damned spook. Come on. Novotny will think I’m molesting you.”

“Speaking of which…”

“Molesting you?”

“Smartass. No. Gregor. He drove me here.” I thought of my Lexus, in the shop, leaving me with no available transportation. It wasn’t a big deal, but it was annoying. “I don’t have my car, and I’m going to need a ride home.”

“No problem. I’ll drive you back to your town house.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Want to stop and check out my place on the way back?”

It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. “Oh, your condo?”

“Yeah.” There was pride in that one word.

“Quinton!” Mother called from the dining room. “Mark! Dinner is getting cold!”

* * * *

After dinner, we had coffee in the small parlor at the back of the house.

“Sweetheart, you look so tired.”

“I’ll be fine, Mother. I just need a solid night’s sleep.” And if it was undisturbed by nightmares….

“In that case, I think you’ve had enough coffee, Quinn.” Vincent could be a pain in the ass, but since he was a live pain in the ass, I let him take my cup.

“Pushy so-and-so,” I muttered loudly enough for him to hear me. I didn’t want him to think he could run my life. He grinned and winked at me.

I studied him as he took Mother’s cup as well and walked out of the room, an easy confidence in his stride. There was no trace of the hopeless despair of my nightmare.

But then, I was no longer asleep.

“Sweetheart, I’m serious about you looking tired.” Mother’s words brought me back to the small parlor.

“That seems to be the general consensus. However, I left word at both State and Langley that short of a national emergency, I wasn’t to be called this weekend.” I couldn’t prevent a yawn. “Sorry.”

“Perhaps we should call off our Sunday ride.”

“I’m not an invalid, Mother.”

“No one said you were, Quinn.” Mark was back in the room, and he exchanged glances with my mother. Did they think I needed to be babysat?

I opened my mouth to tell them I was quite capable of taking care of myself, but Mark gave me a look and closed his hand over my arm.

“C’mon, tough guy. I’ll drive you home.”

I would have protested, but I had no ride. “Fine,” I muttered. I refused to be embarrassed by my ill-tempered tone. “Goodbye, Mother.”

“Make sure you get some rest, sweetheart.”

I sighed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry. I will.”

I followed Mark out to the car and let him open the passenger door for me, but when he would have buckled my seatbelt, I slapped his hands away and glared at him. “I’m not a child, Vincent!”

“That’s a damn good thing, baby. What I have in mind for you would get me arrested if you were.”

“Ha ha.”

He leaned down and kissed me, then straightened and shut the door. Once he was behind the wheel, I opened my mouth to take him to task for kissing me in front of my mother’s house, where any of her neighbors could have seen.

“No one’s around, baby. Do you think I didn’t check? Now wave goodbye to your mother.” And he grinned and put the car in gear.

* * * *

The lingering taste of garlic was on my tongue, and I reached for the roll of Pep-O-Mint Life Savers in my pocket.

“Life Saver, Mark?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.”

After giving him one and taking one for myself, I put the roll away and rested my head on the headrest.

The rhythm of the tires on the pavement was almost hypnotic, and if he talked on the drive home, I was too drowsy to hear. He parked and came around to my side, opening the door for me again.

“Hey.” Still more asleep than awake, I gazed up and down the street. We were in front of his apartment building. “This is your place, not mine!”

“So?”

‘You’re a devious bastard, Vincent.”

“Yeah, and you like me that way.”

I did.

“Come on.” We went into the building. My eyes slid shut for just a second. “Sit, baby.”

I blinked and looked around. Somehow he’d gotten me up to his apartment and had me stripped down to my shorts and undershirt and in his bed.

“You can fight with me in the morning. You need to sleep now.”

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Oh, yeah? You could have fooled me.”

“You like ‘Cesca.”

“Who?”

“The real estate woman. Was she pretty?”

“Oh, her. No.”

He didn’t remember who she was, and he didn’t think she was pretty. That made me feel good. But I didn’t want him to think I was jealous. “Not jealous, y’know.”

“No, I can see that.” There was amusement in his voice. “Quinn, I like you….”

“Like you too.”

“I would never give you a reason to be jealous.”

“Never say never. Just…tell me first.”

“Okay, baby. I would, but I really don’t have room in my life for more than one person.”

“That sounds good. Thought we were going to stop at Aspen Reach.” A yawn caught me unaware. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s okay. What’s the point in showing….”

It was becoming hard to make out his words. “Excuse me?” I blinked and tried to focus on his face.

“Go to sleep, baby.”

The pillow was soft, and that order was easy to obey. He settled the covers over my shoulders, and I felt him drop a kiss on my jaw.

The bed dipped, and I knew he had joined me in bed. I sought his warmth, and his arms came around me.

“‘S nice,” I mumbled, and I fell back to sleep.

And for once, I didn’t worry about the nightmares.