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

Well, Vincent was going to see you didn’t cross Robert Sperling.


It had taken more work than Sperling had expected to find someone Vincent cared about, and when he had finally succeeded, it was to learn it was a prostitute, and a male prostitute at that. He curled his lip at the idea of ever paying for his own pleasure. He was willing to bet no one at the WBIS was aware that God-Almighty-Vincent had to buy companionship. Everyone from Trevor Wallace, who’d run the WBIS for the last twenty-five years, to that bitch who was Vincent’s secretary thought the bastard walked on water.


Well, Sperling knew better. Mark Vincent was nothing, a nobody who had somehow managed to get himself promoted to senior special agent.


Wallace was an old fool who should have retired years ago. He couldn’t see Vincent for what he was, no doubt because Vincent sucked his cock. If Sperling ran the WBIS, he’d have had Vincent canceled long ago.


After, of course, he’d had Vincent suck his cock.


Chapter 100