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 guess that’s what I get for letting a CIA officer tag along.” He pinched my ass, his grin letting me know he was teasing. “Sit down.” He nodded toward a chair at the kitchen table.


“Should I get changed first?” I made myself as comfortable as I could.


“Nah.” He took more appliances from the cookie sheet and began dabbing them with some sort of glue.


I eyed them cautiously. “Are they going to rip off my skin when it comes time to remove them?”


He began applying them one by one. “Trust me, Quinn.” He used them to build up my cheekbones, chin, and brow ridges. A straw-colored wig and eyebrows, and contacts that would make my eyes blue.


“No. Nothing to draw attention to you.” He smoothed down the last of the appliances and handed me a mirror. “Okay, we’re done.”


I stared into it. “I look like a…a thug.”


“No you don’t, but even if you did, I’d think you were cute anyway.”


Chapter 137