Chapter 16

I took out my phone and dialed Mrs. Mann’s number. “It’s Vincent, Mrs. Mann. I’m sorry I had to—”

“That’s quite all right, Mark. I understand, I assure you.” She knew I’d been involved with her son for some time, and she didn’t seem to have a problem with it, in spite of the fact that not only were we two men, but he was CIA and I was WBIS.

“How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. And you?” She was too much of a lady to bring up the fact that the last time she had seen me was when we’d gone horseback riding, and I’d wound up so sore I could barely sit. She’d given Quinn Epsom salts, and he’d poured them into a hot bath for me. That had gone a long way toward easing my aches.

“Never better, ma’am.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.” She laughed softly, and I couldn’t prevent myself from grinning. Portia Mann was a classy lady, one who I didn’t mind observing the conventions with.

“I’m assuming Quinn gave you my number.”

“I have my own ways of learning things, Mark.”