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

I guessed not but she’d probably rigged the steering wheel so it wouldn’t turn, aimed it at the tree, and thrown herself out. Or something. She was a smart woman, and she’d done a damn fine job. Not that I was going to tell her that.


“Dealing with Mrs. Wexler was my job,” I told her in a cold voice. I threw in a cold stare to boot.


“No. Her actions put my dear friend in grave danger. It was my prerogative.”


Well, shit. I hadn’t succeeded in intimidating her at all. And if I’d met her before Quinn, and in spite of her age, I’d have made a play for her. I was glad I’d met Quinn first, though.


As for what happened with Mrs. Wexler, there was no point in challenging the woman before me—what was done was done. “Now what?”


“Now I must leave. I trust you will not seek to detain me?”


“No, ma’am. Although I could.” She laughed, and I raised an eyebrow. “You think I couldn’t detain you?”


Chapter 63