by Tinnean
“You won’t be able to see your family?”
“No. Holmes turned down my request for a few days off.”
“I’m sorry about that. Would you like to come to Great Falls? Mother’s always enjoyed your company, and she’ll have no objection to you joining us.”
“Appreciate it, Quinn,” he said gruffly. “She’s a real lady. And you’re a real friend.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get maudlin, David. Now—”
“Oh, shit! I’ve got to get her a gift!”
“Don’t get yourself into a swivet. A donation to one of her charities will be fine.”
“You’re a lifesaver!”
“I live to serve.”
“Ha-ha.”
“As I was about to say, we dine early, so come by about two. Do you need directions?”
“Nah, I’ll use my GPS.”
“Excellent. Now, not to rush you, but I do have work to do. Enjoy your evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, then. Merry Christmas, Quinn.”
“Merry Christmas, DB.”
He walked out muttering about finding flowers for Mother and closed the door behind him.
What an exceptional friend. It was a shame he was straight. And a shame I wasn’t attracted to him either way.
But that was probably just as well. Sex ruined more friendships.
I smiled, shook my head, and reached for my phone. I’d need to let Mother know we’d be one more for dinner tomorrow.
“Mann residence.” Gregor Novotny, Mother’s butler/ chef/chauffeur, picked up on the second ring.
“Hello, Gregor.” I’d known him all my life, and after Father died, he’d become a second father to me.
“Quinton! How are you?”
“Very well, thanks. And you?”
“Can’t complain. Are you still at work?”
“Yes. You know how it is.”
“Only too well.” He’d worked for the FBI, only leaving after he’d been injured in the line of duty. We continued to chat for a few moments, and then he said, “I’m sure you didn’t call just to talk to me. Unfortunately, your mother is out. She’s spending the afternoon making sure those homeless kids have some kind of a Christmas.”
“I’m not surprised.” I couldn’t help chuckling. She’d twisted my arm for a hefty donation, not that much twisting was necessary. All her charities were worthwhile. “In any case, would you please tell Mother we’re going to be one more for dinner tomorrow? I hope that won’t inconvenience you?”
“Not at all! In fact, that’s fantastic! Uh… is it Susan Burkhart?”
“I’m afraid not.” Susan worked at Justice, and we had a number of things in common, which made it convenient if either of us needed an escort to one of the parties, affairs, or soirées we were required to attend. However, we’d never been anything more than casual friends, at least as far as I was concerned.
Unfortunately, she thought there was more to our association than that. She’d begun hinting at an invitation to Mother’s, knowing that would be tantamount to my offering her an engagement ring.
I’d had no choice but to inform her she’d need to get someone else to accompany her on any future occasions.
“Ah. I told Portia she didn’t have to worry about you.”
“Mother didn’t care for Susan?” They’d met a time or two when I’d escorted Susan to various functions on Capitol Hill.
“Not really. Not that she would say!” Gregor hastened to assure me.
“No, of course not.” Mother definitely wouldn’t involve herself in any of my relationships. As long as I was happy with whomever I allowed in my life, then she was happy.
“If it’s not Susan, mind my asking who it is?”
“Sorry, I should have said sooner. It’s DB Cooper. You remember him, don’t you? DCI Holmes wouldn’t let him take any time to see his family, so he’ll be alone on Christmas.”
“No one should be alone on Christmas.”
“No.” Briefly I thought of Mark Vincent. I knew he didn’t have anyone. How was he planning to spend the holiday?
“He’s a good man.”
That startled me. That was the last way anyone in the intelligence community would refer to Vincent. Then I realized Gregor was talking about my friend. “Yes, he is.”
“And so are you. We’ll look forward to seeing him tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Gregor. Now I’d better get back to work.”
“Don’t stay too late.”
“I won’t. Good-bye.”
“Bye, Quinton.”
I hung up and glanced at my watch. It was almost five thirty. Well, I wasn’t going anywhere. I might as well get those reports done.
I reached up to snap on my desk lamp, only then realizing how much time must have passed.
It was 8:17 p.m. Had I really been working for almost three hours?
I sighed and rose from my desk, dug my knuckles into the small of my back, and rotated my shoulders, then walked to the window. Snowflakes were drifting down to cover the sidewalk outside the building.
I leaned my forehead against the pane and closed my eyes. And just like that, the image of Vincent appeared behind my eyelids, before me on his knees while he sucked down my cock and I stroked his hair and hummed.
I reached down to adjust myself and realized instead I was letting my fingers draw lazy circles on the front of my trousers.
Dammit!
All right. Just now I was going through a dry patch. That was probably why I was thinking lascivious thoughts about a former WBIS agent.
A light tap on the door startled me. Who besides myself was still here at Langley?
I willed away my erection, but it was too slow in cooperating, and so I hurried back to my desk and sat.
“Co—” I cleared my throat. “Come.”
And there stood Mark Vincent, big as life and twice as arousing.
“You okay, Mann?”
“Of course.” My cheeks felt hot. I sat back in my chair, away from the revealing light of the lamp. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Sounded like you had a frog in your throat.”
“Indeed.” I looked down my nose at him, although he was standing and I was sitting. The corner of his mouth curled in a grin. “Was there something you wanted?”
Vincent arched an eyebrow, but fortunately he didn’t respond to that.
Chapter 3
It was Christmas Eve. And it was starting to snow.
I couldn’t remember the last time there’d been a white Christmas in the DC area. Well, when I was around. The support staff at the WBIS—I missed them more than I’d expected I would—had been more than happy to let me know if I’d missed anything of importance, including a Christmas with snow.
Back when I was a kid, before my father left and my old lady took to hitting the bottle, I used to believe all the stuff they told kids about—Santa Claus, the North Pole, Baby Jesus in a manger.
Now, though….
I didn’t hate the holidays, even after the debacle of last year. Hating something took up a lot of energy. I just didn’t care.
Usually I made it a point to be out of the country around the holidays, but this year I hadn’t been given that option.
The CIA had promised me the moon: my own operations run alone, gathering my own data and analyzing it, and most importantly, no one sticking their CIA nose into what I was doing—I would answer only to the director of whatever department I was assigned to.
It was the way things had been done at the WBIS, and I’d thought my requests were reasonable. The Boss, God rest his soul, always had.
The Boss…. I thought of him from time to time. He knew how to get the best out of his agents. He’d have been seriously pissed. He’d have honest-to-God expected the CIA to honor their word.
It was a good thing I hadn’t really expected anything from them, because once I’d come on board, they’d reneged on
every promise. They’d insisted I have a partner, in spite of the fact that I’d lost one and the WBIS had had no problem with my refusal to have another. They wouldn’t permit me out in the field, when that was what I did best. They sent me data to analyze instead of letting me gather it myself. And what chaffed my ass almost the most was that then they had it double-checked by another spook, who didn’t even have the courtesy to admit I’d done it right.
It hadn’t taken me long to realize why the CIA had wanted me: not because I was the best, but because they intended to keep me under control.
If whoever had come up with that bright idea was holding his breath, he was going to wind up very, very blue in the face.
None of the spooks wanted to work with me after the first time; I’d made sure of that.
And now they’d assigned Mann to dog my footsteps.
They called him the Ice Man, but what did nicknames signify? For instance, I was called “that sociopathic son of a bitch.”
I’d thought he was a decent enough guy when I’d confronted him in that warehouse a couple of summers ago, and while I preferred to go it alone, I didn’t mind too much working with him. At least I was fairly sure he wouldn’t get himself kidnapped and killed by a drug cartel.
Mann had been pissed in a big way when the information he’d sent me had been disregarded. He hadn’t been the Ice Man then; he’d been ready to tear me a new one. Partners could either give you a boost up the ladder or yank you back by the seat of your pants. Did he think I’d do the latter? Was he mentally composing one of those letters telling the DCI that he didn’t want to work with me any longer?
And why the fuck did it matter to me? I was already making plans to hand in my notice come the first of the year.
Or maybe I just wouldn’t come in one day. I could fake my death if I had to. The Boss wouldn’t be happy, but wherever he was, he would understand. I was pretty sure.
But Mann wasn’t a moron like those other spooks I’d worked with. He had realized I’d done my job. Someone else had deliberately sat on the data I’d analyzed and been required to pass on.
His lips had been in a grim line as he’d pressed a button on his phone. “Alicia? Quinton Mann. Does he have a spare minute? Good. We’ll be right up.” He turned to me. “Let’s go. Holmes will want to know what the hell is going on.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him. Holmes didn’t have any use for me, but that was okay. I had no use for him either. As far as I was concerned, he was just a pain in my ass.
Mann followed me out of his office.
“Hold my calls, Ms. Watson,” he said to his personal assistant.
“Yes, sir.”
We strode down the corridor toward the elevators, our steps in sync. That was pretty cool. Unusual, since most men couldn’t keep up with me, but cool.
He pressed the call button for the elevator, while I veered toward the stairwell.
“Vincent?”
“Never take ’em, Mann. I’ll meet you upstairs.”
“No, I’ll go with you.”
“Think I’m going to run out on you?”
“You’re an ass. You know that?”
“Ah, Mann, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Fuck off.” His cheeks turned red, and I had to laugh.
“My virgin ears!”
“Oh, please.” He glowered at me. “Your ears haven’t been virgin in ages!”
“I’m cut to the quick!” I gave him my best injured look.
“Jesus.” For a minute I thought he was going to roll his eyes. Instead, he turned his back, pushed open the stairwell door, and jogged up the stairs.
But I was pretty sure I heard a chuckle or two escape.
Holmes’s personal assistant was at her desk. “He’s waiting for you.” She smiled at Mann, flirty and friendly. The look she gave me, on the other hand, was a cross between cautious and terrified.
My reputation had definitely preceded me.
“Hi there, doll.” I winked at her.
She turned pale.
To quote Mann, Jesus.
I went into Holmes’s office. Mann stood before his desk. “Why, Director? Why are you hamstringing us?”
Us? Mann considers us an us? I’d expected getting a hard time from the CIA, but I hadn’t expected Mann to have my back. No one else ever had.
Holmes wasn’t happy to have Mann call him on it. Tough shit.
“I’m telling you the information wasn’t forwarded!”
“You sure of that?” I snarled. “Check the time stamps.”
“There aren’t any.” Holmes scowled at me from under his lashes. He might think his glares were something, and maybe they had his spooks shitting their pants, but he’d never faced The Boss when he was having a bad day.
“Jesus.” I went to his computer, pulled up the data, then hit a series of keys. In the right footer was the time I’d received it and the time I’d forwarded it, but in the left footer was the time it had been opened by whoever had received it. “Satisfied?”
Holmes opened his mouth, shut it, and went back to pulling fierce faces, which only left me disgusted.
I was going to snarl at him again, but Mann stopped me.
“Mr. Vincent, wait for me in my office, please?” The line around Mann’s lips was thin and white. That was the only sign he wasn’t happy.
I turned on my heel and walked out, then took the stairs down one flight and strode through the corridor to his office.
Ms. Watson watched warily as I entered her office. “Mann told me to wait for him here.”
“Yes, sir.”
I crossed to Mann’s office, opened the door, and went in.
It was a good-sized space, with windows that let in a lot of light when the skies weren’t threatening to let loose a deluge. Even so, it didn’t hold a patch on the office I’d had when I’d worked for the WBIS.
The office I had now was not only so small I could stand in the center, extend my arms, and touch the walls, but it was buried in the bowels of Langley.
I took the seat across from Mann’s and waited.
Sure enough, within a couple of minutes, Ms. Watson came in with a handful of papers. She set them down neatly on his desk and walked out.
Five minutes later she was back, her face flushed. “I don’t know where my mind was wandering! Those were the wrong reports.”
I didn’t say anything, just crossed my legs at the ankles.
“Er…. These”—she held them up—“are the right ones!” She made the switch and hurried out.
Another five minutes, and she was back. “I’m sorry, I should have offered you coffee.”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”
“No.”
“All right.” She walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.
I checked my watch, then began a mental countdown.
It was three minutes this time before she popped back in. She seemed disconcerted to find I hadn’t moved. “I… er….”
“If you want to stay and keep an eye on the office, make sure I don’t slip anything in my pocket, that’s fine with me. Take a load off.”
She turned bright red but said, “Thanks, I think I will.”
“Does Mann know you’re willing to put your life on the line for him?”
“Ex-excuse me?”
“Not every secretary would be willing to stand between me and her boss.”
“I’m his personal assistant. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” Everyone in this hellhole knew my reputation. “You mean a memo wasn’t sent around when I started to work here?”
Her color, which had been receding, became high again.
“Look, you don’t have to worry about me shaking down Mann’s office. Unless he’s got a stash of porn in his desk, there’s nothing in it I want to see.”
“P-porn?” She bit her lip, but a spurt of laughter slipped out anyway. �
�Mr. Mann is too refined!”
Everyone, no matter how refined, had a stash of porn.
I smiled at her, not the smile I used when I wanted to intimidate the hell out of someone, but the one I used for support staff, and she seemed to relax. She smiled back.
“Did you have a personal assistant, Mr. Vincent?”
“No, but I had a secretary.”
“It must have been difficult when the WBIS disbanded. So many people out of work.”
Was she trying to get information out of me? No one knew the number of people who were employed by the WBIS. I made myself more comfortable. “I haven’t seen her since last New Year’s Eve.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. She was a good secretary.” And I hoped whoever she worked for now treated her well.
Just then Mann walked in. “Vincent, have you seen Ms.—oh, Ms. Watson.” He was obviously surprised to see her in his office, chatting with me.
“Coffee, Mr. Mann?” She jumped up.
“No, thanks. Do you have those papers I needed to sign?”
“Yes, sir. They’re on your desk. I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” He waited until the door closed behind her. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. What did Holmes have to say?”
“He gave me some cock-and-bull story about wanting to see how well we worked together under adversity.”
“Uh-huh. So what’s the upshot?”
“We’re partners.”
“Huh.” I wouldn’t let myself feel a twinge of pleasure that we’d still be working together. He was going to see that I didn’t care two shits about it one way or the other. “You should have put up more of a fight.”
“I did.” He frowned at me. “Holmes was going to assign you to the janitorial staff. I told him we’d make a good team, but they had to leave us to do our jobs. I hope this won’t be too trying for you. I know you’re used to working without a partner.”
“I’ll deal.” That twinge of pleasure became a full-blown earthquake.
“Splendid. In that case, let me sign off on this project, and then I’ll give you the run down on what we’ll be doing next.”
I liked working with Mann. I didn’t have to ask myself how the hell it happened. I knew how it happened. I’d been impressed with him back in that warehouse. I’d had my eye on him all year, watching, waiting to see how the Ice Man would react when it was his turn to be my partner, and now….