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

I turned a stony gaze on Shorty. “Get these fucking cuffs off him.” He refused to move. “There’s some left in here…” I held up the syringe. “…and I can use this on you instead,” I growled.


“Va te faire foutre,” he muttered, but this time he obeyed, his teeth bared and his eyes muddy with fury. Then he stepped back, and I watched him without seeming to watch him.


The cuffs had bitten deeply into Quinn’s wrists, leaving them bruised and swollen, and he rubbed them. “Whatever you’ve injected into me, it isn’t going to work.”


“Five minutes, Mann. You’re gonna come to me. You won’t be able to help yourself.”


He grunted and clenched and unclenched his fingers, working to get the blood flowing again.


“What, you think he can take on four of us? He’s Quinton Mann, not Superman.”


Chapter 82