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

He was waiting for me as I turned into his driveway. I caught him in my headlights and saw he was wearing a cream-colored fisherman-knit sweater and dark trousers. There was a light breeze blowing, and it mussed his hair.


I doused the headlights, switched off the ignition, and got out of the car. Quinn didn’t kiss me—we could be seen by inquisitive neighbors, especially the couple who lived across the street and who had suddenly started paying attention to what was going on in their neighborhood—but I could tell by his body language that he wanted to.


Instead, we shook hands. He tickled my palm with his middle finger, and I growled at him. His grip tightened, and then he let go.


“I love this time of year.” He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath. “Especially when I can be at home.”


The air was cold and crisp. I copied his actions, but kept my eyes open. The sky was like black velvet. Clouds drifted across it, and stars winked out and then reappeared.


Chapter 88