by Tinnean
“You are.” He didn’t sound surprised. He started to hand my handkerchief back to me, saw my expression, and laughed and tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll have this washed, and return it to you.”
“Okay.” I cleared my throat. “Now that we’ve got that settled—”
His lips cut off the rest of what I’d been about to say.
XXIII
“WE DO pick the damnedest places to make out,” I murmured against his lips. I was leaning against the door, and Quinn was leaning against me, his right hand toying with the hair at the base of my skull.
“I like it, though.”
Yeah. So did I.
He smiled into my eyes and straightened. “I guess you’ll have to get going. It’s a work night.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I took the week off, remember?”
He paused. “Mark, about the reservations you made for Taylor House….”
“What about them?”
“Will you be able to get your money back? I know they want to be notified at least twenty-four hours in advance if you’re going to cancel, but….”
“Is that what has your shorts in a twist? Don’t worry about it, Quinn. Extenuating circumstances. They won’t give me a problem at all.”
“I hope not. I still want to go there with you, and once Mother has recovered…. Well, it would be difficult if you blew up the place because they’d made you unhappy.”
“Y’know, Mann, I’m really a very easy-going kind of guy. I don’t know where you get the impression that I have no patience with people.” I stepped away from the door.
“I can’t imagine.” He grinned and stroked my hip, but then the grin faded, and a small line appeared between his eyes. “Mother…. She’s going to need some things—her robe and nightgown, toiletries and hairbrush. She usually has a book on her nightstand too. I’ll make a list in the morning and ask one of my uncles to drive out to Great Falls.”
“You need a change of clothes too, Quinn. Have you been in your tux all this time?”
“Yeah” He looked down at his dress shirt, his expression wry. “I didn’t want to leave. In case—” He left it hanging.
“Yeah. Why don’t I drive you home? You can shower and change, and I’ll have you back here in—”
“A couple of hours?”
“What? It shouldn’t take you that long to shower and change.”
“Obviously, I’m being too subtle. I was inviting you in.” His eyebrow disappeared under the lock of hair that spilled over his forehead.
“How did I miss that?” I caressed his cheek and brought his lips to mine for a final kiss. “You need to shave too.” Dammit, this had been rough on him.
Quinn brought his hand first to his cheek and then to mine. “I’ve given you whisker burn,” he said ruefully.
“Don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t going to. I opened the bathroom door, and we went back into the room. His tuxedo jacket was hanging across the back of a chair, and I picked it up and handed it to him. “Let’s go.”
“I want to let my uncles know how Mother is doing.” He slid his arm into a sleeve and shrugged the jacket over his shoulders.
“Okay. Why don’t you do that? I’ll go down and bring my car around to the front entrance.”
“Would you like to wait and meet them? They should be back soon.”
“Uh….”
“All right, babe.” He tugged on my ear and smiled. “Another time. Mark.” He waited until I faced him. His lips were puffy from my kisses, and if his mother hadn’t been lying in that bed not three feet from us, I’d have had him up against the wall, his pants down around his ankles and my cock up his ass.
He flushed, and I wondered if he’d been able to read my mind.
“Yeah, Quinn?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll take this down with me, okay?” I picked up the bag with his mother’s coat.
“Thanks. I’ll meet you downstairs in about fifteen minutes?”
“Yeah, that’ll be good.”
And in fifteen minutes, he walked out the front entrance, got into my car, and I drove to Alexandria. At that time of night there was no traffic; I made excellent time.
XXIV
WHILE Quinn showered, I laid out clean clothes for him and packed a suitcase. He’d told me his uncles had taken a suite at the Madison Arms, and he’d stay there with them rather than make the drive back and forth to Alexandria.
I toed off my shoes and lay down on the bed to wait for Quinn to finish in the bathroom. He was taking longer than he usually did when I wasn’t in there doing things to him that made him lose track of time.
I stacked my hands behind my head and contemplated the medallion that circled the light fixture on his ceiling.
I’d finally gotten him relaxed, and then this fucking crash had to happen, sending his mother to the hospital. I had definitely let Lapin off too easily. Senator Wexler, now…. I began to contemplate all the ways I could make him pay.
“Who’s going to die?” Quinn had come out of the bathroom without me realizing it. A towel was knotted at one hip, and he was rubbing another one over his hair.
Instead of answering him, I let my gaze wander over him slowly and thoroughly, and gave a low whistle. His mouth didn’t move, but his eyes grew warm.
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, then went to him and tugged at the knot that kept the towel around his hips in place. It slipped to the floor. He was already half hard, and I ran my fingertips over his cock and turned him around.
Before I could crowd him toward the bed, he looped the other towel around my neck and drew me to him. He backed away, I advanced, and finally, the mattress caught the backs of his knees, and he sat down abruptly, using the towel to pull me down with him.
For a moment, I lay on him, fully clothed to his nudity. I angled up, ran my fingertips over his nipples, causing him to give a deep groan; then I wriggled off the bed and made a space for myself between his thighs.
The wiry hairs at his groin were still damp, and I nuzzled them and licked the stray drops of moisture that gathered where thigh and groin met.
I ran my palm over his thigh, and he shivered. I drew his knee up so that the sole of his foot rested on the bed, and ran my fingertips along his crack and dipped into his hole, and he shuddered.
His cock was fully hard now, and it brushed against my cheek as I raised my head and took him into my mouth.
I intended to take my time with him, but he had other ideas. He grabbed the hand that was kneading an ass cheek and put it on his chest. I could feel the beat of his heart beneath it.
Without any conscious effort on my part, my fingers plucked and squeezed and rolled his nipple, and he clenched his fingers in my hair, his grip almost painful, and rocked up. If I hadn’t relaxed my throat, he would have inadvertently choked me.
“Sorry, sorry!” He patted the side of my head.
I loved when I made him lose control. I let his cock slip from my mouth and grinned at him. “You worry too much, Mann.”
His eyes widened as he watched me stick a couple of fingers in my mouth and suck on them.
When they were good and wet, I took them out of my mouth and teased his hole, and went back to sucking him off.
Quinn gasped and writhed under me.
With the fingers of one hand working his nipples, two fingers of the other stretching his ass and prodding his prostate—my lips and teeth and tongue sucking and grazing his cock—it was only a matter of minutes before he came, flooding my mouth with the taste of him.
While he was still panting and shivering from the aftermath of his climax, I crawled up beside him on the bed and held him, rubbing my erection lazily against his hip.
“Thanks. I needed that.” He ran his fingers over my cheek and kissed me, tasting himself on my lips.
“My pleasure, baby.”
“How many is it that I owe you?”
“I’m not keeping track. But I tell
you what. Once everything gets back to normal, I’ll lay back and let you make love to me until neither of us can see straight.”
Quinn’s eyes grew hot. He rolled toward me, reached down and shaped my cock through my trousers. He hummed with pleasure when he discovered how hard I was, then unzipped my fly and took me out, working me with his knowledgeable fingers.
“You don’t have to….”
“Shh. I want to.”
He didn’t stop until I came, and when I groaned, his mouth was there to swallow the sound.
He held me until I stopped shaking.
Finally, he drew back and licked his fingers clean, then leaned over me and gave my cock a lick. “How’s that for a start?”
I swallowed, blinked, and then blinked again. “Good start.” All those blind idiots who didn’t see the passionate man for the cool exterior he presented.
He sighed. “I guess I’d better get dressed.” He got up, pulled on his shorts, and looked at me expectantly.
“What?”
“You’re lying on my clothes.”
“Oops. Sorry.” I rolled off his shirt and handed it to him. “Did they get wrinkled?”
“It doesn’t matter. I have a closet full.”
I watched as he dressed. I could see the hairs under his arms as he slid his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. Once the view of his chest was concealed, I rolled off the bed and handed him his trousers.
By the time I had tucked my cock back in my pants and zipped my fly, he was stepping into his shoes.
“All set?”
He nodded and picked up his suitcase. Downstairs, he slung his overcoat over his arm, and we went out to my car.
XXV
TRAFFIC was still light, and I knew it wouldn’t take long to make the drive to the hospital.
Quinn turned on the radio, and the CD I’d left in it started playing.
“‘Blue Champagne’, babe?”
I hunched a shoulder. “I like The Manhattan Transfer.”
“Yeah. Me too.” There was a smile in his voice.
I cleared my throat. “You sure you don’t want me to arrange for a rental for you?”
“I won’t need one for a few days. My uncles have transportation.”
“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”
“Mmm.”
When I looked across at him, I saw he’d put his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. I liked that he felt comfortable enough around me to do that.
I concentrated on driving and let the music fill the silence.
I made good time, and it was just after 4:00 a.m. when I pulled up in front of the hospital. “Quinn? We’re here.”
“I’m not asleep.”
“No.” I let the car idle. “Listen, I’m glad your mother will be okay.”
“I know. Thank you.” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward me. “Mark….”
I didn’t need gratitude from him. I looked at my watch. “I have to go. It’s gonna be a busy day.”
“‘Busy’ how?”
“It’s a work day.”
His eyes narrowed. “You took this week off.” I didn’t reply to that. “You’re not planning on doing anything to Wexler, are you?”
“Of course not. Didn’t you tell me not to?”
“As if you’re going to start paying attention to what I tell you now.”
“Don’t I always pay attention to you?”
“Never mind.”
“I’ll be in touch, okay?”
He nodded.
“Get some sleep, baby.” I cupped his cheek with my palm, tempted to pull him into another kiss, then blew out a breath and dropped my hand.
“I know. Thanks for coming down.” Quinn ran his palm over my thigh, his smile regretful. He got out of the car and took his suitcase and overcoat from the backseat. I watched as he walked to the hospital entrance. He paused for a moment and looked back, and then with a small salute, he was gone.
“I’m sorry, sir. You can’t—Oh, Mr. Vincent.”
“Hi, Samuels. I was just leaving. Thanks for the information you got me. It will be worth your while.”
“It always is. Thank you, sir.”
“’Night.”
“Good night, Mr. Vincent.”
I put the car in gear and drove home, whistling along to the music that came out of the speakers.
XXVI
SINCE I wasn’t going to be spending the week in Key West, I could have gone back to work. However, I had other plans.
Richard Wexler needed to be taken care of.
It took a few days. Before I’d arranged the scene of Lapin’s car “accident,” I’d tracked down all those doctored tapes he’d mentioned. I’d also found some other tapes that would be of interest not only to certain parties on the Hill—Wexler was dead serious about becoming president, and who would have thought he’d have so many senators, congressmen, and lobbyists in his pocket?—but to The Boss as well.
The CIA wasn’t the only organization with which the senator had a connection. He’d had one with the WBIS also.
With Sperling.
Although Senator Wexler was unaware of it at this point, his political career was in the crapper. A phone call to a newspaper that had a reputation for asking tough questions and not backing down, a package containing copies of all pertinent data delivered via messenger service….
It would start slow, like a snowball rolling down a hill. Self-righteous, arrogant, and a fool to the core, the senator would deny any involvement with the accident that had resulted in Portia Mann’s hospitalization.
But then his shady dealings, his offshore bank accounts, his intention to coerce his wife—who was well-liked in their home state—into a divorce, his recorded conversations mocking his constituents, would all come to light. He’d lose his seat in the Senate, as well as the possibility of being nominated for anything, even dog catcher, ever again.
And that was just the start.
He’d never know what hit him.
And as per Portia Mann’s wishes, no one would ever suspect that I was the one who had set that snowball rolling.
XXVII
MRS. MANN had been in the hospital for a little more than two weeks, and I’d gone to see her as often as I could.
On this late afternoon in October, she was sitting in a chair by the window and frowning with impatience at the tangled mess in her lap.
I tapped on the doorframe, and she looked up and smiled, all trace of irritation gone.
“Mark. How nice to see you.” She set aside the ball of yarn and the hook she’d been working with and held out her hand.
“How are you feeling today?” I crossed the room and took her hand in mine. She was wearing a silk robe of a rich blue that deepened the color of her eyes. A walker was beside her, but otherwise she looked as elegant as ever.
“Better. I’m being discharged tomorrow.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll bet Quinn is too.”
“Yes. I’ll need some weeks of rehabilitation and a cane to help me get around, however.”
“You’ll be done with the cane before you know it.”
“Of course I will. And it is better than this walker.”
“Damn straight.”
She swallowed a smile.
“What are you working on?” A chair had replaced the cot that Quinn had slept on those first tense nights, and I drew it next to hers.
“It’s supposed to be a scarf.” She held it up. It was about five inches long, and while it was sort of rectangular, one end was much narrower than the other, the stitches tighter. “I don’t know why they insist I learn how to crochet. Grandmother Blackburn tried to teach me, but she gave up when I persisted in mixing single, double, and triple crochet stitches all on the same row. I really tried her patience, the poor woman—I would rather have been playing outside with my brothers.”
“I imagine you’d much rather be outside now too. Here, let me show you.” I took the unfortuna
te scarf and unraveled it, then started a loop and began a row of chain stitches. Jose Ramos—Tio Ze—the Portuguese fisherman who’d been with my old lady for a time, had taught me how.
“You never cease to amaze me, Mark.”
“Well, you never can tell when it’ll come in handy.” I let the corner of my mouth quirk in a grin but kept my eyes on the hook and yarn.
“Such as when you’re confined to a hospital bed?”
I looked at her sharply. That time was buried deeply in my files, and I’d never spoken of it. “Ma’am?” She gestured toward her bed, and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Yeah, that’s right. Why don’t you try it now? Nothing fancy, though, okay?”
She took it and looped the yarn around her index finger, slid the hook under it, and drew it through, completing her first stitch, and eventually her first row. “Ah!”
“There you go. Just watch the tension.”
She concentrated on the simple stitch for a couple of minutes, finishing a few rows, then paused and looked at me, her eyes bright with mischief. “I want to thank you again for your thoughtful gift.” She glanced over at the thing I’d brought her the day after she’d regained consciousness.
“Don’t mention it. Seriously.” My face felt hot.
Of course I’d visited people in the hospital, but since for the most part they were injured WBIS agents, and since all WBIS agents were males, I’d never been to see a woman.
Mrs. Mann’s room had been filled with flowers and Mylar balloons, and it had occurred to me that I should have brought her something. I’d gone down to the gift shop to find they were sold out of flowers, so I’d grabbed the first thing I’d seen, which happened to be a stuffed hot air balloon made out of shiny material.
Across the balloon were the words, “Get Well Soon!!!” including the three exclamation points. I’d thought it was appropriate enough.
I hadn’t realized until I’d given it to her that the basket under it held a Smurf with lime green hair.
