With the death of Quinton Mann’s cousin, Mann Manor becomes his, and in spite of assurances that the Manor isn’t in bad shape, Quinn and his lover, Mark Vincent, discover otherwise when they arrive to inspect it. They find the floors have been torn up, some more recently than the last time his cousin had been here. Quinn agrees that their best option at this time is to have the house wired for security, and they take off for Savannah to pursue a lead into the accident that eventually resulted in the death of Quinn’s cousin.
Grey Rayne, an agent of Mark’s, is working on this until the floorboard gives way under her, and she’s injured. In extricating herself, she finds a letter and a map that might reveal the reasons behind the damage done to the Manor.
Will Quinn and Mark be able to get to the bottom of this? And what will happen if it comes out at the Company that Quinn is friends with the deadliest agent the WBIS has ever produced?
“It’s been a long day.” I yawned and gave my scalp a brisk rub.
“But know what I’d like us to do when we get home?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Strip down to our skivvies and dance.”
“Not to ‘Until it’s Time for You to Go.’” Somehow, the last time we’d danced to that, he’d realized I was trying to brace myself for when he left me.
“No, babe. To ‘At Last.’”
“Yeah?” He took his eyes off the road for a second and smiled at me. “That works for me.”
“Good.” It worked for me too.
* * * *
We had a good evening. Etta James sang her heart out, Quinn danced with his arms wrapped around my waist, one hand on my shoulder blade and the other on my ass, his head resting on my chest, and I had the perfect excuse to lean into him. Not that I needed an excuse.
“Ready to go to bed, Mark?”
“Sure.” I turned off the CD player and gave him a head start into the bathroom.
Quinn was already naked when I got there. I leaned my cane against the wall, shed my clothes, and stepped into the enclosure with him. His hands were slick with soap, and he ran them over my shoulders, my chest, then followed my treasure trail down past my navel to my groin and eventually to my cock.
“Shh.” He wound a hand around the base of my skull and pulled my mouth down to his. “Kiss me.”
What else could I do? I kissed him.
His other hand stroked over the small of my back, and he scrapped his nails over the curves of my ass and teased the crevice. Not that he had to do that for my cock to get hard.
He tipped back his head and blinked at the water that dripped into his eyes. Then he handed me the bar of soap, and I worked up a lather and stroked my palms up and down his body.
Afterward, we toweled off and climbed into bed. Quinn massaged my leg, then had me flip over onto my stomach and went to work on the long muscles of my back.
“How come you’re taking care of me?”
“Are we talking about that again? How many times did you take care of me?”
“Yeah, but --”
“No buts. Now if I recall correctly, you gave me a piece of paper that promised me a night of wild, unbridled sex.”
“Those weren’t the exact words, but I did, didn’t I?” I reached across to get the lube we kept in the nightstand, as well as a pair of handcuffs I’d stashed in there. It had been a long time since I’d cuffed him to the bed -- more than a year in fact. I held up the cuffs, and Quinn’s eyes glowed.
But before we could take advantage of the slip of paper I’d given him, his cell phone rang.
We both groaned. I wanted to tell him to ignore it, but that was something neither of us would do.
He scooped it up. “Mann.” He sat up abruptly. “What? ... What? ... Jesus Christ! Who -- All right, we’ll be there in about half an hour.” He hung up and stared into my eyes. “That was the Arlington police. There was a disturbance at the Manor, and they went to check it out. The front door was closed but not locked, and they were able to get in. They found a body.”
Well, fuck a geezley goddamn!