You Were Made for Me

by Tinnean

  While they were busy with that, I took out my cell phone and hit ten on speed dial. It took three rings for Ben-David to answer.

  “Yes, Mr. Vincent?”

  “I need a flight to New York for tomorrow. Are you available?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. There will be four of us.”

  “Mark?” Quinn touched my arm.

  “Hold on,” I said to Ben-David. “Yeah, babe?”

  “Tony says they’re already in the air—Chili is flying them into Dulles—and they’ll want to travel with us.”

  I checked my watch. They’d probably arrive at Dulles sometime before midnight. I knew their pilot—Chili Valdez had flown me from LA to Paris earlier in the spring. Normally, it took about four and a half hours to make the trip from Los Angeles to DC, but if anyone could get Quinn’s uncles to the east coast in record time, it would be Ms. Valdez.

  “Okay, we’ll pick them up so they won’t have to rent a car, and then we’ll drive them here. It’s closer than our place.”

  “That’s a good idea.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over my mouth.

  “What was that for? Not that I’m objecting, but I’d like to know so I can get you to do it again.”

  He rubbed his palm against my cheek. “Our place.”

  “Huh?”

  “You called your condo our place.”

  “Well, it is. Isn’t it?”

  “It is.” He kissed me again. “Finish your conversation with Gilead. We need to get home to pack before we drive to Dulles.”

  “Okay, babe.” I touched his arm. I would have liked if the look in his eyes promised sex after we got the packing done, but this was hardly the time, not with someone he cared about so recently passed. Instead I spoke into my phone.

  “Balm, make that six—”

  “Jefferson and Ludovic will be joining us also,” Portia said, one hand over the landline’s receiver. “Ludovic has already packed. As soon as I get off the phone with Jefferson, they’ll be on their way here.”

  That was a three-hour drive. They probably wouldn’t get here until after eleven. I glanced at Quinn, but just then he was talking into his phone, pacing the room, and running a hand through his hair and leaving it disheveled, so I decided to stick my two cents in. “I realize they want to be here for Novotny, but tell them it would be better if they waited until tomorrow morning, as they’d planned.”

  Portia met my gaze soberly, and I wondered if she was going to object, but then she said. “I think you have a point, Mark. As much as he refuses to admit it, Jefferson’s night vision isn’t what it used to be. As for Ludovic, he’s never been comfortable driving our roads. However, we needn’t mention that. I’ll just tell them with you and Quinton and Tony and Bryan here, we don’t have any available beds.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole. “Quinn and I will drive to Dulles and pick up Sebring and Bryan later. Now. Is there anyone else we’ll need to transport?”

  “No.”

  “You sure Cooper won’t want to come along?”

  Quinn looked around. “That reminds me—I’d better call DB and let him know we’ll be out of town and he shouldn’t bring the Jag to Aspen Reach.”

  I groaned. “Do I need to tell my man to get a larger jet?”

  Quinn was busy on the phone once more, and he just shook his head.

  Portia gave a faint smile. “No, Mark.”

  “Well, tell Jefferson to drive carefully tomorrow. We don’t want to have to go to another funeral.”

  “I’ll be sure to.” She turned back to her call, and I resumed my conversation with Ben-David.

  “Balm, there’s going to be eight of us.”

  “Got it. I’ll expect you at Fairfax?”

  “Yeah.” I gave it some consideration. “Let’s say around two tomorrow.” That would give us time to have lunch and for me to have a limo brought around. A van might work just as well, but this called for something classier, and I knew the WBIS had one in its parking garage.

  “Okay. I’ll come up with a flight plan and have it ready for when you get there.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I disconnected the call just as Portia hung up.

  “Jefferson and Ludo should be here for brunch.”

  “Good. I was thinking we’d use a limo to take us to Fairfax.”

  “Why not a van?” Quinn asked.

  “Do I look like a soccer mom to you?”

  He smiled, but there was something… off about it. Well, yeah. The woman who’d cared for him from the time he’d been born was gone. Of course he wouldn’t be in a lighthearted mood.

  “I have one more call to make. Why don’t you and Portia finish your dessert? Theo’s baklava is too good to let go to waste. Then we’ll go home, pack, and get some rest before we pick up Tony and Bryan and return here.”

  For some reason, Portia was smiling at me. I raised an eyebrow, and her smile broadened.

  “I like you and Quinton sharing a home.”

  “So do I, Mother. DB sends his condolences.”

  “He’s a sweet young man. I’ll let Gregor know.”

  Quinn came to me and rubbed my shoulder. “DB said he’ll keep the Jag until we return.”

  “Okay. That’s good.” I pressed four on speed dial.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Winchester. As hyper as he is, he’s a good driver.”

  “Is Wallace going to object to you using an agent for something not work-related?”

  “You know he’s got a soft spot for your mother. He’d probably volunteer to drive the limo himself if it gave him some time with her.”

  He cupped my cheek and smiled. “Thank you, Mark.”

  “For what?” I waited for Winchester to pick up.

  “For being here.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be anyplace else.”

  “I know.” He leaned up and kissed my jaw, then would have stepped back, but I slid an arm around him and kept him in place.

  “I’m going to see if Gregor needs any help,” Portia said, a smile in her voice, and she left the room.

  “I wonder what else might happen,” Quinn murmured.

  “What do you mean?”

  “These things usually come in threes. I’ve resigned. Alyona has passed away. What’s next?”

  “That damned meeting at Aspen Reach?”

  “That’s hardly in the same category.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  Before Quinn could reply, Winchester answered the phone. “What can I do for you, Mr. Vincent?”

  “I need a ride to the airfield in Fairfax tomorrow. Will you be available?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Good. Take the WBIS limo and arrive in Great Falls by one.” I gave him Portia’s address.

  “Yes, sir. Did you need me to do anything else?”

  “Not having an accident getting here would be good.”

  “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks.”

  “Th-thanks?”

  “What?”

  “N—” He cleared his throat. “Nothing, sir.”

  “Okay.” I hung up and stared at Quinn.

  “What, Mark?”

  “Did you hear the whole conversation?”

  “It was hard not to.”

  “Why did he sound so surprised that I’d thanked him?”

  He brought my mouth to his for a kiss, then said, “I have no idea.” He looked like he was fighting to hold in a laugh, so I didn’t really believe him. But I decided to let it go. “We may as well clean up the dessert plates.”

  We turned to find the plate holding the baklava empty and Miss Priss licking the last of the honey off her paws.

  “Shit.”

  “What, Mark?”

  “Miss Priss. We can’t leave her here alone.” I hit six on speed dial. “Don’t be
in bed, Theo…”

  “Hi, Vince. Why would I be in bed at this hour? It’s too early.”

  “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

  “You think I’m always in bed with Wills?” He sounded happy, and I had to admit I was glad to hear that. As a rent boy, he’d put on a good act, but he’d protected his heart for a long time, thanks to his asshole father. Usually I wouldn’t have given it much thought, but having Quinn in my life made me pretty happy too.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Well, yes,” he admitted. There was laughter in his voice. “Just not now. So what’s up? Was dinner okay?”

  “It was great. We all loved it.”

  “Then why are you calling?”

  “Portia needs you to watch Miss Priss again. Novotny’s sister passed away—”

  “Alyona? I’m so sorry. Please extend our condolences. Gregor spoke of her a few times, and she sounded like a wonderful lady.”

  “I met her this past spring, and she was.” She’d liked me and seemed pleased I was in Quinn’s life. “We’re going up for the funeral.”

  “Do you want to drop off Miss Priss, or do you want me to come get her?”

  “Will you be up? We have to drive back to Aspen Reach in a little while, and we could drop her off tonight.”

  “That’ll work. I don’t suppose you know which funeral home will be handling the interment? I’d like to send a flower arrangement or maybe make a donation to her favorite charity if the family would prefer that.”

  “I’ve got no idea right now, Theo.”

  “You’ll let me know when you find out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

  “Right. Thanks again.”

  “That’s—”

  “I know, what friends are for.”

  He laughed, and before he hung up, I heard him call, “Hey, Suzie Q, your buddy’s coming for a visit again.”

  Some people really went overboard with their pets. I hung up and nodded at Quinn. “Theo will take Miss Priss.”

  “Thank you, Mark. Mother’s going to appreciate your help.”

  “It’s the least I can do—I was the one who gave her the kitten.” I studied him carefully.

  He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Are you sure you want a cat?”

  Quinn looked amused. “We’re discussing this after the house is finished, remember?”

  “Okay.”

  “Mark?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The WBIS.”

  “What about… shit.” I’d have to notify them that I wouldn’t be in until next week. “I’ll call HR first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “I can’t begin to tell you—”

  “Then don’t.”

  He kissed me, rubbing his lips over my mouth, getting me hot and hard. Then he stepped back. “I think we should make a list of everyone we’ve called and who still needs to be called,” he said.

  “Good idea. Get busy.” I pinched his ass and began stacking cups and saucers on a tray.

  “Mark, would you mind if we didn’t…” Quinn’s voice trailed off.

  “If we didn’t what?”

  He sighed. “If we didn’t make love tonight?” I’d never seen that expression on his face before. “It’s… I know we’ve been expecting it, and it’s not that I’m taken by surprise by Alyona’s passing. It’s suddenly occurred to me that it could just as easily have been Mother.”

  And I realized he let me see beneath the Ice Man’s mask because he trusted me enough not to screw with his emotions or think the less of him for having them.

  “Babe, take as much time as you need.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “I mind, but—Okay, this is going to sound mushy, and if you laugh at me, I’ll make you sleep in the guest bedroom, but… your emotional well-being is important to me.”

  For the first time I saw him on the verge of falling apart. I didn’t count the time in Portia’s hospital room. Then I’d simply heard how upset he was, as opposed to now, when I could actually see it. His lower lip quivered and his eyes welled with tears.

  He came back to me and rested his head on my shoulder. I could feel the dampness through my shirt. “You’ll sleep with me, though?”

  This wasn’t the time for a snarky comment. I held him and stroked his hair. “Forever, Quinn.”

  “Thank you.” His shoulders trembled under my touch, and I held him and murmured something or other to comfort him.

  The cups and saucers could wait. We’d stand here like this for as long as he needed.

  VII

  “ALYONA WAS TWENTY-THREE when I was born,” Novotny said once we’d taken our seats in the Lear jet. After that one moment of shock and disbelief when he’d learned of his sister’s passing, Novotny had gotten himself under control. “She lost her own child shortly after, and when our mother died, she took me in.”

  Quinn told me he’d often heard the story when he was growing up. It seemed that after the Communists took over Czechoslovakia, Alyona’s man sent them out of the country, promising to join them when he could. He never did. I could probably find out what happened to him, but I had the feeling it might be better for them to think he was still in Eastern Europe, trying to make his way back to her, rather than confirming he’d been tortured, killed, or simply sent to Siberia. That wasn’t something they needed to know.

  And Jesus, when had I gotten so mushy?

  “She wore a dragonfly brooch that Pavel had given her,” Novotny said now, and he glared at me.

  “What? I didn’t say anything?”

  “No, you didn’t.” He seemed disgruntled. “It’s just…”

  He’d expected me to. Jesus.

  “Go on, dear one,” Portia murmured, reaching for his hand.

  He held it tightly. “I might have been six, but I remember.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose with his other hand. After a minute, he continued. “The brooch had blue garnets in its wings. It had been in Pavel’s family for centuries. A great-great-grandfather had a friend who was a jeweler, and he’d had it made for his bride. It was handed down to each firstborn male to be given to the woman he married, and while Alyona and Pavel couldn’t marry, they were devoted to each other, and Pavel gave it to her. He told Alyona if she ever lost her way, to find a dragonfly to follow and it would lead her home.”

  Portia took a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed first at Novotny’s cheeks and then at her own.

  “Alyona and I eventually arrived in the States. We discovered other members of the extended family…”

  “And then you found us,” Portia said.

  “Yes.” Novotny smiled at her, took the hand that had continued to hold his, and brought it to his lips. “And then we found you.”

  ~*~

  THE WAKE WAS on Thursday. The room in the funeral home had been opened up to accommodate everyone. The place smelled like a flower shop from all the floral arrangements that filled the front of the room. Arrangements had arrived from Novotny’s former colleagues at the FBI as well as Quinn’s from the CIA, and I grudgingly gave them credit, from Quinn’s cousins out in San Francisco—I had a feeling Cooper had done some arm twisting—from the women who sat on Portia’s various committees, from Theo and Matheson, and from The Boss, not to mention Alyona’s extensive family.

  And while the viewing should have been concluded by nine, it went on and on as one person after another rose to speak about this woman who was obviously very beloved.

  It was a good thing I didn’t need my handkerchief, since I had to give it to Quinn after his had become soggy.

  While he was talking to one of Novotny’s cousins, I noticed Tony and Bryan Sebring leave the room. I touched Quinn’s shoulder and gestured toward the door that led to the lobby, letting him know I’d be there. He nodded, probably thinking I needed to visit the restroom. Instead, I found his uncles and approached them.

  “Do you have a moment?”

&nbs
p; “What did you need, Mark?” The oldest uncle observed me impassively.

  “Can we talk outside?”

  The brothers exchanged glances; then Sebring shrugged and led the way out to the parking lot.

  “All right, what?” he asked.

  “The two of you walked away from the intelligence community.”

  “We retired,” Bryan murmured.

  “Same difference. You need to help Quinn. Rayner wants him back.”

  “After what happened at Langley, do you think Quinn would consider it?” Bryan wasn’t challenging me; he was asking a simple question.

  “Frankly, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean they won’t try to put pressure on him, and right now, that’s the last thing he needs.”

  “What do you expect us to do?”

  “Convince him to go back to Los Angeles with you.”

  “He won’t want to leave. Gregor is grieving—”

  Why were they being so obtuse? “Gregor has Portia. She’s grieving too, but she’ll give him all the support he needs. Right now, Quinn needs to be with someone who’s left the community and understands what he’s going through.”

  “What about you?”

  “I haven’t left.”

  “How do you plan to get our nephew to leave with us?”

  “Brad Cartwright.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He’s the actor who’ll be playing opposite Spike in The Food of Love. He’s got a reputation as a sleaze. It doesn’t matter if he’s working with a man or a woman. As long as they’re breathing, he’ll do his damnedest to get them in bed with him. And it’s not because he likes them or is attracted to them. He just wants to prove he’s God’s gift. The shooting schedule is about five weeks. I’ll tell Quinn I can’t get out to the West Coast for that length of time and ask him if he’d mind keeping an eye on the situation.” Quinn was a good man. He’d be willing to help anyone in need.

  “How do you know this about Cartwright?” Sebring scowled at me.

  What? Like it was some big secret? Cartwright’s face was plastered all over the Star and the Enquirer, although they only covered the women he’d… dated.

  Bryan chuckled. “He’s Mark Vincent, Tony.”