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

People only see what they want to see. I’d learned that for myself some years ago in Paris, when I’d assumed Pierre de Becque was a hustler because he was dressed like one, and I’d wanted to fuck him so badly. It was easier to think I could buy him.


He’d thought I was an American businessman with a bad suit and a worse accent.


We’d both been surprised when our cell phones rang and we’d discovered we were both intelligence operatives. When I left Mann’s town house for the second time, no one challenged me. All they saw was someone who got rid of bugs.


I used a different rest stop to change out of the work clothes and remove the company signs, then drove home.


I’d set the trap. Now it remained to be seen if the prey would take the bait.


Okay, so the prey hadn’t exactly jumped to take the bait.


The fucking ball’s in your court, Mann. Make your move, goddammit.


Chapter 70