Mark Vincent has risen from senior special agent to Director of Interior Affairs in the WBIS. Lately, life has been sweet for him -- in addition to his promotion, he's found a partner in Quinton Mann, who can almost match his ability in the intelligence field, in spite of the fact Quinn's CIA. Mark has also found a condo in Alexandria with the help of Portia Mann, Quinn's mother, and it's closer to Quinn's town house than Mark's present apartment. Sweetest of all, Mark plans to take Quinn to his island in the Caribbean for the holidays.<br><br>Quinn's glad he has the holiday with Mark to look forward to -- something is going on at Langley, and he feels he's being kept out of the loop. To make matters even worse, useless missions and sleepless nights filled with nightmares are leaving him exhausted. But then his mother's life if threatened, and Quinn discovers the accident that resulted in her hospitalization was no accident. The obsessively self-absorbed Senator Wexler is involved, and while Quinn considers himself a civilized man, now he's out for blood.<br><br>Up until this point, Mark has stayed out of Quinn's CIA business. But hurting Quinn and those he loves isn't a smart move, and Mark has every intention of seeing Wexler pays. Quinn demands to come along, and while Mark isn't happy, he finally agrees, and they set out together to deal with the senator. There's just one catch: this will be the first time Quinn sees Mark at his deadly best, and Mark isn't sure how his lover will react.

Forever

“Ah, come on, boss. I haven’t killed anyone in two days.”


“So it’s going to be three days. You know the big man doesn’t want to explain another body.”


“Well, I’m getting tired of his rules.” I looked the jerk up and down and then opened my jacket as if to scratch my ribs, revealing the gun I carried. I grinned as the color drained from his face, and he backed up a step.


“Let’s go, killer.” Quinn walked out without looking back. He didn’t have to. I was there.


“Well, I didn’t want to have to explain all the blood that you’d have spilled.”


“You think I’d have shot him? I’m cut to the quick.”


“Oh? You had no intention of taking him apart?”


“No. Well, as long as he didn’t call me a pickle chugger.”


Quinn came to a dead stop. “What…where do you pick up these terms?”


“A misspent childhood, babe. C’mon. I’ve got plans for you.”


Quinn’s car was parked off-street a block away.


Chapter 13