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’ve always been fond of them. Do you have any objections to meeting them?” The toast popped up, and Quinn took the slices out of the toaster and set to work buttering them.


“You sure you want them to meet me?”


“Well, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”


“The CIA thinks I’m certifiable, and your uncle is CIA.”


“Was CIA, and why am I not surprised you’re aware of that?” The question must have been rhetorical, because he didn’t wait for me to answer it, just put the plate with the buttered toast on the table in the nook off the kitchen. “He knows what you did, Mark, after Mother’s ‘accident’. They all do.”


“Don’t know what you mean, Mann. I didn’t do anything.” I picked up the plates with the bacon and eggs and carried them to the table.


“No. Of course not. It was some strange woman who beat on Mrs. Wexler’s face…” Quinn brought the coffee mugs and set them down beside each plate.


Chapter 83