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 now you know I didn’t set you up. Did the cops dust for prints?”


“I don’t know. I don’t know if Shaw or whatever his name really is wiped down the room before he left. He could have—I don’t know how long Pretty Boy lay there like that.” His eyes filled with tears again and his fingers closed on my arm, gripping it like a vise. “Vince.”


He eased his hold on my arm and took in a shuddering breath.


“Okay, you said something about drinks. Did you bring the bottle with you?”


“Uh….” His forehead furrowed. “There was a bottle of Dewars and a couple of glasses on the dresser. Now that I think of it, I don’t remember seeing them there after…after…. There was blood all over the place; so much blood.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.


“Okay.” Unconsciously, I withdrew the knife from my pocket, caressing its sleek length, testing the blade against my thumb. Sharp enough.


Chapter 97