Forever

Chapter 1-3

“Mark, are you insulting my hospitality?”

If it had been my old lady on the other end of the phone, I’d have said yes and hung up. “No, ma’am! Of course not! I—”

“Good.” Was she laughing at me? “I’ll see you both at eleven. Give Quinton a kiss for me. Goodbye.” There was a click in my ear.

“You set me up.” I hung up the phone, then leaned over grudgingly and brushed my lips against his cheek.

“What…?”

“From your mother.” I deliberately turned my back; I was annoyed with him, dammit, and had no intention of letting him think that I’d kissed him of my own free will.

“Now, Mark—”

“Don’t ‘now, Mark’ me. I told you I didn’t have riding boots, and you said you had a pair in my size.”

“Yes, and wasn’t that fortuitous?”

“‘Fortuitous’ my ass. You went out and bought them especially, didn’t you?” He didn’t answer, not that I expected him to. “And now your mother’s invited me to lunch.”

“Even you have to eat, Mark.”

That was beneath my notice. “You know Novotny hates my guts.” Gregor Novotny had been part of the family from the time he was eighteen. Yeah, I’d researched him. His sister came to work for the Manns, and he came along with her. A Feeb who’d had to retire when he was wounded on the job, now he was not only Mrs. Mann’s chief cook and bottle washer, but her bodyguard as well. And he resented like hell the fact that I was in Quinn’s life. “He’ll probably slip something into my food.”

“Something that would leave you at my mercy? Damn, I wish I’d thought of that.” He reached for the phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling Gregor.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’ve changed my mind, Mann. Just for that, I’m not going to blow you.”

“Fine by me.”

What the f**k? Before I could say something really stupid, like, “Are you telling me you don’t want to make love with me anymore?”‘ he dragged me backward onto the bed, and I found myself flat on my back.

Quinn was in top-notch physical condition; he was a superb fencer and an Olympic-class horseman. It was just that when I had him under me, when he was moaning and begging, it was hard to remember.

He worked his way down my body until he was settled between my legs, gave my c**k a leisurely lick, and grinned at me through that lock of hair that was always falling over his eyes.

“Remember your birthday, Mark?”

How could I forget it? It was the first time those lips of his that were grinning so cockily had been wrapped around my c**k.

“I’ll blow you.”

* * * *

Quinn threw his mother up into her saddle and then swung up onto his horse. Poetry in motion, and if we’d been alone, I’d have dragged him into the stable, found an empty stall, and f****d his brains out.

“Just don’t kick Blue,” Quinn was saying, and I shook myself out of the pleasurable reverie of him bent over a hay bale.

“Sure.” How difficult could following such simple instructions be? I mounted the horse the groom was holding for me.

But Blue reacted every time my heels brushed against his sides and continually broke into a trot that had me bouncing in the saddle, rattling my teeth.

I’d warned that f*****g flea-bitten, sway-backed, hay-burning refugee from a glue factory that I had a gun and had no problem using it if he made me look bad in front of my lover. Obviously, he hadn’t taken my warning seriously.

I studied Quinn’s posture in the saddle and copied it. I’d shoot the nag later.

Quinn and his mother became involved in a conversation about family, and I listened.

“I understand Uncle Tony’s back from the Coast, Mother.”

“Yes. He’s staying at the manor with Uncle Jeff and Ludovic. It’s odd. Tony and your Uncle Bryan were never that close when they were younger.”

I’d known Quinn was the equivalent of royalty in the intelligence community; the Sebrings, his mother’s family, had been in the business since at least the French and Indian War, and on his father’s side there had been a Mann ferreting out information during the Spanish-American War.

My father hadn’t hung around long enough for me to start kindergarten, and the closest my mother came to being a Mata Hari was picking up men in a bar.

I lost track of time, which was stupid on my part, but I was fascinated by their family dynamics. By the time we returned to the stable, I realized my error. My body was making me aware of every mile we’d ridden over.

My ass was sore, my balls felt like they were on fire, the insides of my knees were chafed, and the muscles in my thighs complained with every step the horse took.

After I dismounted and handed the reins to the groom who was waiting for us to return from our ride, I managed to walk to the car without limping and sit through the meal at Mrs. Mann’s home without giving the least hint of how uncomfortable I was. It took an extreme act of will, but I did it.

By the time we were ready to leave, all I wanted was some serious drugs.

“Excuse me; I’ll just use the bathroom before we go.”

Quinn and his mother smiled at me, and I escaped to the downstairs john. I locked the door and opened the medicine cabinet.

“Thank God!” I groaned. Extra-strength ibuprofen. The regular dosage was one. I took two.

I used the john, washed my hands, and took another two tablets, just to be on the safe side.

Novotny glowered at me as I walked out of the bathroom. “What, did you think I’d pinch the commode?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, Vincent.”

I held out my arms and turned in a slow circle, a condescending grin hiding my discomfort. “As you can see, it isn’t concealed about my person.”

He curled his lip, turned on his heel, and stalked away. I went in the other direction, to the front foyer.

“Thank you, Mother.” Quinn accepted a small brown bag from her. “All set, Mark?”

“Yes. Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Mann.”

“You’re very welcome.” She walked us out to the car. “I hope we can do this again.”

Not in a million years. I smiled at her.

“Goodbye, Mother.” Quinn kissed her cheek.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” She went up the steps and waited.

Quinn opened the door of his Lexus for me, and I was concentrating so hard on appearing normal that I didn’t even realize this was not something he would normally do until after he had done it.

I lowered myself cautiously to the front seat, winced, and buckled up. When were those f*****g painkillers going to kick in?

“I’m driving you straight home.” He walked around to his side of the car and got in. “You’re sore, Mark.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re sore.” He put the key in the ignition, not looking at me. “Wave to my mother.”

“Huh?” But he leaned forward and waved, so I did also. Mrs. Mann smiled and waved back, watching as Quinn drove down the length of her driveway. When I looked back, she was still standing there.

“She’ll stay there until she no longer sees me.”

“She used to do that for your father.”

“Yes.” He didn’t ask how I’d known that. We drove for some time in silence.

I shifted from one ass cheek to the other, trying to get comfortable with no luck. A glance at my watch told me it had been fifteen minutes since I’d taken the ibuprofen. s**t. Another five minutes at least before it began to work.

“Mark, I want to explain something to you, and then I want you to explain something to me.” The only time I saw him this serious was when business was involved. He didn’t wait for a response from me. “You’re experienced in many things.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a forensic artist…“

Well, I liked to think so, but why was he bringing that up now?

“…you fence…“

Yeah, we’d dueled to a draw. The man was good, I’d give him that. Not as good as me, but….

“…you’ve played the saxophone…“

That had been years ago, before the WBIS, before I’d even enlisted, and it wasn’t in any of my records. How the f**k had he learned about that?

“You going somewhere with this, Mann?”

“I just assumed you could ride, as well. Why didn’t you just come right out and tell me you hadn’t been on a horse before?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” I growled. No way was I going to tell him it was because I liked him thinking there was nothing I couldn’t do. “Would you have changed your mind about me joining you?”

“No. But I’d have given you another mount. Blue really is good-tempered, but his gait can be a bit jarring for a beginner.” A bit? “Next time I’ll see if the stable has Kathy Thorn available.”

“You’re so sure there’s going to be a next time?” Where did these people get the names for their horses? I watched as he glanced sideways at me, and the corner of his mouth quirked.

“I have no doubt that after a remarkably short amount of time, you’ll become a very capable horseman.”

“Don’t try and get on my good side now, Mann. I’m still pissed at you.”

He chuckled.

“Y’know, most people don’t laugh when I tell them I’m pissed,” I groused.

“No, I imagine not. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I pressured you into going riding, Mark.” His apology was so sincere that I had no choice but to forgive him. No one ever apologized to me. But I wasn’t going to let him know he’d gotten to me.

“Oh, what? Like I couldn’t have just said no?”

“You could have said ‘no’. Why didn’t you?”

“Do you think you’re so irresistible, Mann?”

“I don’t. But I think you do.”

They were similar to the words I’d said to him after that debacle with Prinzip. I looked out the window and pretended I hadn’t heard that.

Back in May, Quinn had been kidnapped by a lunatic who wanted to recreate the antiterrorist organization he’d started back in the seventies but lost control of. Richard, the nutjob, decided by “recruiting” experienced operatives—from the CIA, the Mossad, MI6, Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, others from France, Italy, Germany—he’d get the project off the ground faster. The CIA would have left Quinn to die in that f*****g warehouse in Paris. Well, not f*****g likely. I’d gone in and rescued his ass.

“Ah, look. We’re home.” Quinn’s words brought me back to the present. He was insufferably cheerful.

“I’m home. You still have to drive back to Alexandria.”

“I know, but not until I make sure you’re all right.”

He found a parking space half a block from my place, and we got out and walked back. Well, he walked. I limped. That damned ibuprofen had barely taken the edge off my aches. I should have doubled up on the amount I’d taken. Tripled it.

He was carrying the brown bag, and I wondered briefly what was in it. Leftovers from lunch, maybe? It had been really good, and I wouldn’t mind snacking on shrimp Creole.

I let us into the building, and we began to climb the stairs up to my apartment on the attic floor.

“Mr. Vincent, are you all right?”

That just took the f*****g cake. I paused on the third floor landing to glower at my agent. Matheson stood there with a plastic garbage bag in each hand. When I’d introduced him to the rent boys who owned this building earlier in the spring, the last thing I’d expected was for him to develop a relationship with one of them and wind up moving in with him.