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

Odd. That was neither our usual day nor our usual time.


The phone chirruped again, and another message came through. Free up the next couple of weeks, okay? I grinned and put the phone away, drew in another deep breath, and blew out the candle.


Not that I needed to make that wish now. It was coming true.


“Hey, Quinn.” DB sidled up to me. “That was from your lady, wasn’t it?”


I made the first slice and then let Janet take over cutting the cake. “Have a piece of cake, David.”


Syd laughed and handed me a slim, flat box, and then she, Lyn, and Janet each kissed my cheek.


“Happy birthday, Quinn,” they chorused.


I unwrapped the box. “Oh, my.” It was a Montblanc LeGrand Meisterstruck Platinum fountain pen, and my name was engraved on the cap. “Thank you!”


One of the younger officers gave me a reserved smile. “And here’s the ink that goes with it.”


Chapter 124