Quinton Mann, a highly ranked CIA officer, is used to being called the Ice Man. He’s astounded to discover himself in a relationship with Mark Vincent, not because Vincent is a man, but because he’s a top-rated WBIS agent. There they are though, for a total of five glorious days. But when Mark uses the excuse of going to Massachusetts for his mother’s funeral to end their relationship, Quinn’s not buying it.<br><br>No one screws with Mark Vincent. Even Mark doesn't screw with himself. Once he realizes how close he's allowed Quinton Mann to get to him, he does what any self-respecting spy would do -- he makes tracks out of there. But Quinn does something no one else ever has -- he comes after Mark. Maybe this relationship thing with a spook isn’t such a bad idea.<br><br>Meanwhile, something strange is going on in the intelligence community worldwide. It takes Quinn’s disappearance while investigating a rogue antiterrorism organization that results in Mark making up his mind. Quinn may be a spook, but he’s Mark’s spook, dammit -- and once he gets Quinn home, he intends to keep him. He knows without a doubt he’ll find Quinn. The question is, will he find Quinn in time?

Not My Spook

The ladies on the first floor were entertaining. It was too early for Matheson to be home from the WBIS—he’d actually moved in with Theo after they’d returned from Cambridge—and Theo hadn’t gotten out of the habit of sleeping late. I saw no one, and no one saw me.


I emptied the CD wallet onto my computer desk and started transferring the data. It didn’t take long, not as long, in fact, as it had taken me to burn the CDs. Then I seta program running that would extract the information I needed. I keyed in the parameters, hit Enter, and went into the bathroom to peel off the latex appliances before washing away all evidence of Dwayne J. Lester.


By the time I was dressed, the computer had printed out a number of pages that contained some of the information I needed. I scanned them quickly.


Son of a bitch. Quinn had gone to Paris looking for his own people, putting his life on the line, because that was the kind of man he was. He’d gone using the name Leonard Burroughs.


Chapter 76