Quinton Mann is CIA through and through. Mark Vincent is WBIS for life. There is no way they could end up as anything other than adversaries -- and yet, Quinn takes Mark out to dinner on his birthday -- the one no one is supposed to know about -- and gives him one hell of a present in the restaurant's restroom. Mark, not to be outdone, has decided to escalate this game, because it has to be a game, right? There's no way it can be anything else.<br><br>But as the game continues, as Quinn shows up to a WBIS funeral, as a friend of Mark’s penetrates the CIA computer network to get information on Quinn, as Mark breaks into Quinn's house and gives Quinn a very interesting encounter, both Quinn and Mark realize that this is becoming the most real thing in their lives.<br><br>Can they find a way to do their jobs and keep this surprising, intriguing connection?

Houseboat on the Nile

And wouldn’t the shit hit the fan if he ever found out not only that I’d tricked his old lady into talking about him, but that I’d discovered something he didn’t want discovered? Not that he ever would learn about it. I was too good at what I did—the best, in fact—and I knew how to cover my tracks.


But when the hell had my desire for knowledge about Mann turned to desire for Mann? I wanted him, not as in “dead or alive,” but as in “in my bed,” and that wasn’t acceptable. Oh, not because he was a man. The WBIS had instituted a policy when The Boss took over twenty-five years before, and as a result, an active agent’s sexuality was taken out of the equation, as that pompous asshole James Adams liked to say, and the agent was able to function at the peak of his ability.


No, the problem wasn’t that Mann was a man. The problem was he was CIA.


The CIA got the jobs the NSA wouldn’t dirty their lily-white fingers on.


And the WBIS got the jobs the CIA wouldn’t handle.


Chapter 10