by Tinnean
“She isn’t my type, Mann.” I followed him into the house and then shut and locked the door. “Unless she’s hiding them behind blue contacts, she doesn’t have hazel eyes.”
“And you mean to say that if she did, you’d find her… interesting?” he sniped.
“Quinn, what….” Everything had been going well. Didn’t he… like me anymore?
“Well, if you want to fuck her, don’t let me stop you, Vincent.” He shrugged and started to turn away from me, and I grabbed his arm.
“Are you kidding? You think I’d do something like that to you?”
“Why not? You’re….” Abruptly I realized that Portia Mann was right, he looked dead beat.
A quick glance around showed me we were alone, and I shut him up with my mouth. I expected him to struggle or at least to stiffen in my embrace, but instead he gave a sigh and relaxed into me.
“Mann, what the fuck is up?”
“I just needed to know… I’m sorry. It’s been a bitch of a day, ending an all-time bitch of a week.”
“You’re gonna”—scare me—“piss and moan one time too often, and then….”
“You’re going to leave me?”
“No. CIA idiot. I’m gonna knock you on your ass.”
“You’ve already knocked me on my ass.”
“I have?”
“Didn’t you know?” He kissed me. “I’m disappointed in you,” he murmured against my lips.
“Damned spook. Come on. Novotny will think I’m molesting you.”
“Speaking of which—”
“Molesting you?”
“Smartass.” His hand curved over my butt and squeezed. “No. Gregor. He drove me here. I don’t have my car, and I’m going to need a ride home.”
“No problem. I’ll drive you back to your town house.”
“I knew I could count on you.”
You bet your ass you can, baby. “Want to stop and check out my place on the way back?”
He looked puzzled for a moment, and that brought home more than anything how tired he was. “Oh, your condo?”
My condo. I liked the sound of that. “Yeah.”
“Mother said something about it being in a gated community.”
I showed him the remote that operated the gate into Aspen Reach, then replaced it in my pocket. I’d picked the Dashwood witch’s shoulder bag when she’d been busy showing his mother and me into the condo, but he didn’t need to know that.
“But you don’t have the keys yet.” He lowered his voice. “Right. What am I talking about? You were able to get into my town house. That condo should be a cinch.”
It was nice to have my abilities appreciated. I grinned but didn’t say anything.
“When you look like that… God, I want to kiss you again!”
“I thought you were tired.”
“Quinton!” Mrs. Mann called from the dining room. “Mark! Dinner is getting cold!”
“Jesus, we were making out in my mother’s front entry! We’re coming, Mother.” He cut his eyes toward mine as I opened my mouth to say something heavy with innuendo. “No snide remarks, Vincent.” He stroked the curve of my ear, then dropped his hand to my shoulder and urged me toward the first floor john so we could wash our hands.
“I left a message on your voice mail.”
“I was at a meeting. Mother’s message also mentioned that since you insisted on driving her home from Aspen Reach, she was going to insist you stay for dinner, and if I wanted to keep our usual Friday arrangement, I should hop to it and call Gregor.”
“Very clever woman.”
“Yes, she is.” His pride in her was obvious.
And maybe another time I’d tell him about her portrayal of a sugar momma.
We went into the dining room and waited for Mrs. Mann to be seated before sitting down ourselves. Novotny had already placed dinner on the table. He took a seat opposite me and curled his lip.
“Shrimp scampi. I hope you don’t mind garlic, Vincent.”
“Nope.” Had he done that on purpose, so my lover would be reluctant to kiss me? “Keeps the vampires away.”
“Pass the scampi, please, Mark.” Quinn smiled at me. He would be having it too.
I sent Novotny an insouciant smile, and he scowled.
VIII
DINNER was finished. After giving me a hard look, Novotny had gone into the kitchen to load the dishwasher. Once that was done, he’d taken his cup of coffee and retreated to his lair upstairs somewhere.
We sat in the small parlor at the back of the house, listening to a Cole Porter CD and finishing our coffee.
“I had the opportunity to meet him once, you know. He was very charming.”
“You’ve known some very interesting people, if you don’t mind my saying so, ma’am.”
“Yes, I was quite fortunate.” She started to say something else and then looked at her son. He was sitting beside me, his legs stretched out and his head resting on the back of the loveseat. “Sweetheart, you look so tired.”
“I’ll be fine, Mother. I just need a solid night’s sleep.”
“In that case, I think you’ve had enough coffee, Quinn.” I took his cup and stood up. “Mrs. Mann, can I bring your cup to the kitchen?”
“Thank you, Mark.”
“Pushy so-and-so,” Quinn muttered as I walked out of the room, and I grinned. He couldn’t call me worse in front of his mother. I returned in time to hear him say, “I left word at both State and Langley that short of a national emergency, I wasn’t to be called this weekend.” He yawned. “Sorry.”
“Perhaps we should call off our Sunday ride.” His mother sent a glance my way, and I gave a minute nod.
“I’m not an invalid, Mother.” He was starting to sound petulant, a sure sign he was more exhausted than he wanted to let on.
“C’mon, tough guy. I’ll drive you home.” My home. I was going to keep him in my apartment, and I’d turn off his cell phone so that even in the event of a national emergency he wouldn’t be disturbed.
Mrs. Mann walked us to the front door and out to the steps. She kissed her son’s cheek, and to my surprise, she kissed mine as well.
“Drive carefully, Mark.”
“Yes, ma’am. Always do.”
She stood at the door, watching until we gave a final wave and drove off.
IX
“LIFE Saver, Mark?”
“Huh?” I was humming under my breath. I’d decided to drive straight to my apartment in DC, skipping the visit to Aspen Reach. “Oh, yeah, sure.” The garlic. I held out my palm, felt the mint drop into it, and popped it into my mouth. Pep O Mint, as I’d suspected.
A quick glance showed him doing the same just before he tipped his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.
Dammit, I really wasn’t used to seeing him this tired, and I didn’t like it.
I stamped down heavily on the gas pedal and got him home, stripped, and into bed.
“I’m sorry, babe.” Quinn yawned so hugely my jaws ached in sympathy. His minty breath washed over my face.
Take that, Novotny! There’s nothing you can cook that Life Savers doesn’t make a mint to neutralize!
“It’s okay.” I drew the covers around him. “What’s the point in showing you where I’ll fuck your brains out if you aren’t awake enough to appreciate it? Go to sleep.”
He mumbled something, and then a soft snore whispered past his lips.
Quinn was a few years younger than me. The dossier I kept on him had nothing about his inability to bounce back from an assignment.
I should have gotten to the bastard who ran Prinzip before Quinn and killed him harder. If he hadn’t had Quinn kidnapped….
I stripped, shut the light, and got into bed with Quinn. He rolled over into my arms, murmured a few words, and sighed, a warm gust of air over my collarbone.
“Yeah, this is nice,” I whispered in his ear. “’Night, Quinn.”
It Had to be You
I
I HADN’T told anyone of the problems I’d been having sleeping. Mark would probably…. No, he wouldn’t break up with me, not this time, but if he was disappointed in me, that would be almost as bad.
It really was stupid of me to flash my ID in that bar and allow that homophobic idiot to see my gun….
But then Mark had taken me to his apartment and we’d made love, and I had to admit, that was worth a lot.
The first thing I did as I pulled into my driveway after spending the evening with him was to call him to let him know I was home.
“Thanks for humoring me, baby. Have a safe trip, okay?”
“Sure. I know you don’t want to come after me again.”
“Wiseass. I’ll see you next week.”
“Yes. Thanks for tonight, Mark.”
“What can I tell you? I’m the best.”
We both laughed and hung up. Only then did I murmur, “Yes, you are.”
He’d been worried about me making the drive while I was so tired, had even offered to drive me home and catch a cab back into DC.
Usually I was the one who had to be concerned about my dates. It was a nice change to have someone concerned about me, and I found I liked it. Very much.
Having entered my home and locked the door and secured the alarm system, the second thing I did after spending the evening with my lover was to check my answering machine.
There was one message, and I pressed the play button.
“Quinn, there’s been a change of plans.” It was DB Cooper, a friend and fellow officer at the Company. “You’re going to Bangkok—”
What? The original plan had been for me to fly out of National to London in the morning to meet with my opposite number in MI6. Without waiting to hear the rest of the message, I dialed DB’s number.
I thought it was going to go to voice mail, but he picked up. “C… Cooper.”
Only then did I realize how late it was. “DB, it’s Quinn. I’m sorry. I just got your message.”
“Not… not a problem. I was… I was just on my way out.” Husky feminine laughter told me that was a big lie. “Hold on a… a sec, okay?” He lowered his voice to a whisper, but I still heard, “Gimme my pants, wouldja, angel eyes? Oh, thanks, gorgeous.”
The silence that followed was broken by the sound of kissing and then, “Mmm. You’re welcome, tiger.”
And here I thought “darling” was the quintessential endearment.
“Sorry, Quinn.”
“Are your pants on, DB? Because I have to tell you, having a conversation with you, knowing you’re not fully dressed, is disturbing.”
“Hey, I had a smile on!” I could imagine. “And you know, you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. “Fine. Now what’s all this about me going to Bangkok? I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow.”
“I told you in my message.”
I was embarrassed to admit I hadn’t listened to more than the first few words of it, so I just said, “Tell me again.”
“It’s our esteemed Director of Counterintelligence’s idea.”
“What are you talking about? Rayner’s out on sick leave.”
“I meant Holmes.” He laughed ruefully when I spat out a curse. “Yeah, I know how you feel, but, hey, ours not to reason why.”
I was willing to die for my country, but not because it was Edward Holmes’s idea.
“I’m sorry about the short notice, Quinn, but Holmes has some bug up his ass. You’ll be taking the redeye out of BWI. Your ticket will be waiting at the British Airways counter. I’ll meet you there—”
“What? I thought you were at home. You’ll never get there in time.”
“Nah, it’ll only take me about twenty minutes. I’ve got something that should prove useful.” He lowered his voice. “And if Holmes knew about it, my ass would totally be grass. I’ll see you in about an hour. And, Quinn? You sound tired. Make sure you drive carefully.” The call ended.
Why was everyone telling me to drive carefully all of a sudden? I was a careful driver.
I hung up and glanced at my wristwatch. There wasn’t even time for me to take a shower. Mark had sponged off most of the semen that had covered me, but I’d been looking forward to a warm bath, hoping it would help me sleep. And because I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, this flight would throw off my internal clock even more.
I took the stairs to my bedroom two at a time, took a pilot’s case from my closet and packed, then stripped off my suit, leaving it in the pile of clothes that would go to the cleaner, and ran a washcloth under my arms and over my groin. Once I’d dried off, I put on clean clothes.
A little more than three-quarters of an hour later, I arrived at BWI.
“Quinn. I didn’t expect to see you this soon.”
“DB. I didn’t think British Airways would hold the flight for me, and I didn’t feel like rowing to Bangkok. It’s a damn good thing there were no state police on 495 tonight. I think I broke every speed limit getting here.”
“Well, you’ve got twenty minutes until boarding.”
I blew out a disgusted breath, and he laughed.
I handed my ID to the clerk. “You’re holding my ticket, I believe? Quinton Mann.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Mann. Will you be checking any luggage?”
“No, I just have one carry-on.”
“Very good, sir.”
While she was busy checking me in, DB looked me over. “Neat as a pin.”
“Did you doubt it?” Father had taught me that no matter what might come up, it didn’t take long to put on a fresh suit. I would have looked rumpled otherwise—I’d tossed my clothes off in an effort to get Mark into me faster, and they’d landed every which way.
“When I had to leave a message, I assumed you were out.”
“And because I was out, you also assumed I was—”
“Getting laid? Yeah.” DB’s mouth curled in a grin. “So. Are you still seeing that someone who put a smile on your face and a spring in your step?”
“Yes.”
“When are you going to tell me who she is?”
“When are you going to tell me who you’ve been seeing?”
“Never?”
“There you go.”
“You’re a spoilsport, Quinn.”
“Your boarding pass and your ID, sir. Your flight will be leaving shortly from Gate 1, Concourse E. You’ll arrive in Heathrow in approximately thirteen hours. Your connecting flight should depart within an hour of arrival—”
“Barring unforeseen delays.”
“Thanks so much for trying to cheer me up,” I growled at DB.
The clerk tried to smother a grin. “—to Incheon Airport in South Korea. From there it’s a little under five and a half hours to Bangkok. Enjoy your flight, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll walk you to the gate, Quinn.” DB fell into step beside me, and I noticed he was favoring his right leg.
“Did you hurt yourself, David?”
“Huh?”
“You’re limping.”
He blushed bright red. “Oh, that… that’s nothing. Seriously.”
“Get a little too strenuous with your ladies?”
“Yes. No. It was just….” He was so flustered I took pity on him and decided to drop the subject.
“Never mind, DB. What brought you out tonight?”
He lowered his voice. “I’ve got something for you.” He handed me a book.
“I don’t read Dean Koontz.”
“Time to broaden your horizons.”
“What?” Hadn’t I said something similar to my lover recently? I blinked and shook my head.
DB just grinned. “I think you’ll find the passage on page 146 interesting.”
“Oh?” I turned the pages carefully, and on the page he’d mentioned, I found a shallow depression. Tucked into it was what looked like an SD card. “I’m safe in assuming this isn’t just for photos and that R&D
has come up with something new?”
“In a manner of speaking. This is by way of the late, lamented Michael Shaw.”
“Lamented? Don’t you mean unlamented?” No one in the CIA had much respect for men who were willing to sell out the agencies for which they worked, but then Shaw hadn’t been trying to sell out the WBIS; he’d been trying to sell out Mark Vincent.
DB’s grin turned sour. “He must have been better than I gave him credit for. There’s been no hint that the WBIS is even aware it went missing.”
“Hmm. What does it do?”
“This’ll make any computer anywhere in the world as safe to use as the one in your office. If anyone tries to intercept what you’re sending, all they’ll get is what looks like Russian pig Latin.”
“That should throw them.” I closed the book and slid it into the outside pocket of my pilot case.
“Yeah. Well, here we are.” We’d arrived at Security. “Your gate is down thataway.”
“DB, will you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“I drove a loaner here. Would you make arrangements to return it and pick up my Lexus?”
“Don’t tell me it’s in the dealership again!”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Not a problem. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you.”
He gave my arm a friendly smack. “Watch your ass, buddy.”
“Take it easy, DB.”
He left, trying to disguise his limp with a jaunty swing to his stride. Smiling, I went through Security, showed my boarding pass and ID to the airline representative, and walked onto the jet.
II
FROM the moment I’d set foot on Thai soil the week before, I’d been on the go, and it had been a long, futile week. Now it was time to wrap up what I could, file my report, and catch a flight out of the Bangkok airport.
Concealing how disgruntled and tired I was, I sauntered into an Internet café, found a machine that wasn’t surrounded by kids playing computer games—shouldn’t they have been in school?—and casually slipped in the SD card that DB had given me.
I typed up my report, secure in the knowledge that if anyone tried to intercept it, all they would see was gibberish, hit send, e-mailing it to Edward Holmes, DCI of Threat Analysis, who was poking his nose into Operational Targeting’s business—for a moment it felt as if I were channeling my lover—and logged out of the program. With the card once again in the depression on page 146, I tucked the book into the pocket of my pilot case.
