The New Year of 2002 starts off with a literal bang, when Mark Vincent is called to WBIS headquarters and learns the Washington Bureau of Intelligence and Security has been disbanded. He's not happy with the situation, but he's ready to make his own way in the intelligence waters of DC. However, when Trevor Wallace, known as The Boss, requests he accept the CIA's offer of a job, Mark reluctantly agrees. He isn't surprised to find working for the CIA is exactly what he expected, with the Company not allowing him to do his job. Mark lets his resentment be known as he's partnered with one officer after another, with no success. As a result, he's determined to leave the CIA, in spite of his promise to the man whose opinion he valued so highly.<br><br>Quinton Mann is viewed as royalty in the intelligence community. He had a run-in with Mark Vincent a few years before, while Vincent was still senior special agent for the WBIS, and Quinn had developed a healthy respect for him. Now, however, it's his turn to partner with the man considered by the alphabet agencies to be a sociopath.<br><br>Quinn can see what the problem is, and he's aware Vincent might not remain CIA for long. Now, the year is drawing to a close. Will a drink on Christmas Eve change things for both men?

No One Should Be Alone

I wondered what my cock would feel like in his mouth.


My cock became more…interested, and I licked my lips.


“Not yet,” I muttered under my breath. That would have to wait until I was home. I followed him out of his office, waiting while he locked it. “You have any plans for tonight, Quinn?” If Mann could call me “Mark,” then quid pro quo, I was calling him “Quinn.”


“Quinton.” He paused for a moment, then shook his head and repeated, “Quinton.”


“Right.” Okay, I got the idea, but didn’t anyone ever shorten his first name? He needed to loosen up.


I grinned. And I was just the man to do the loosening.


“You said yourself, it’s Christmas Eve. Did you think it likely I’d have nothing lined up?”


Well, hell. There went my Christmas present to myself. And it served me fucking right. Did I really expect someone of Quinn’s caliber to have a free evening?


Chapter 17