You Were Made for Me Page 6

  “Theo’s cat loves his baklava too,” I told Quinn.

  “Do you think we should get a pet?”

  I opened my mouth to give him all the reasons why I didn’t think that would be a good idea, but he went on.

  “I’ll be home most of the time now.” He picked up a tray and waited for me to get the other one.

  Shit, he was right. Okay, Vincent, think fast. I didn’t want to deny Quinn anything, but… That thing with Paul and Spike earlier in the spring had demonstrated why it wasn’t a good idea for a spy to have a pet. I’d had to leave on the spur of the moment, and if it hadn’t been for Theo being willing to watch Miss Priss while I was away, I wasn’t sure who I would have trusted with the kitten.

  “Suppose we wait until the house is finished?” I suggested. At the rate it was going, that probably wouldn’t be until next summer at the earliest. Not only was the town dragging its feet about the necessary permits, since it turned out the house was listed in the historical registry, but it also insisted the property needed to be platted—having the boundaries mapped again. I might have to go talk to someone about that.

  Quinn smiled at me. “That’s a good idea.”

  Huh? Oh, he meant waiting. “Glad you think so.”

  He walked out of the kitchen ahead of me, and I took the opportunity to ogle his ass, all the while blowing out a relieved breath.

  Yeah, he would be home pretty much, but even if he turned down The Boss’s offer, he’d still be doing book tours—I had no doubt once Mind Fuck was published, he’d be on the New York Times Best Seller List. And after the rights were sold to make the movie—again, no doubt—I’d probably have to go on location with him just to make sure they didn’t screw with the story line. It was bad enough my character had become a woman. If they made me a damsel in distress, I’d have to hurt someone.

  V

  “WOULD YOU MIND if we held off studying the floorplans for the Manor, Mark?” Portia asked. “I’m more concerned right now with what happened today.”

  So while we had our coffee and baklava, I told Portia and Novotny that a team from the WBIS would be flying to the Middle East to see if there was anything they could do to help.

  “That’s kind of Trevor,” Portia said.

  I was surprised Novotny didn’t blow a gasket, but he seemed at ease.

  “As for Bramwell…” She sighed and shook her head. “I’ve known him for some years. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t back you up.”

  “I have no idea, Mother.” Quinn had been following the conversation, and now, when he glanced at me from the corner of his eye, I was able to read his intent.

  “Not a problem, babe,” I said. “I’ll look into it.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you, Mark, but I think Quinton’s uncles will have less of a problem getting into Langley.” Portia smiled at me.

  Quinn gave a snort of laughter. “Sorry, Mother.” He was probably thinking of the story I’d told him of me getting into Langley without any problem myself.

  What I hadn’t told him were the numerous other times I’d entered using my persona of Dwayne J. Lester, who worked there as a janitor.

  I’d created Dwayne the first time I’d needed to get into Langley. I’d tacked my ears back, made my nose larger and my chin narrower, slouched to appear shorter, and added a straw-colored hairpiece and pale blue contacts. And while Dwayne wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, he did the job of allowing me to wander the halls of the CIA undetected to gather whatever tidbits of information I needed.

  This particular time, however, what I’d needed to learn was what Holmes planned to do about Quinn having been kidnapped, and I’d dusted my way down the hall to his office, copied what was on his hard drive, then dusted my way out. When I’d learned it was the exact same thing that was happening now with that operative’s assets—in other words, nothing—I’d made arrangements to go after Quinn and rescue him.

  Afterward, I’d sent Dwayne out on medical leave, so no one questioned why he wasn’t around, but I could just as easily get him back on the job if it was necessary.

  Or maybe it was time to have Dwayne’s brother or cousin replace him. I’d give Winchester the opportunity to try it on for size and see if he could handle it.

  Quinn turned to his mother. “You’re not disappointed in me for resigning so precipitously, are you?”

  “Of course I’m not. You’re my son, and I’ll love you no matter what you choose to do with your life. And considering what’s happened over the course of the past two years… well, frankly, I’ve had the feeling it would just be a matter of time.”

  “But Father hung on—”

  “And it gave him a bleeding ulcer.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  I had. I’d been a little surprised Quinn had never said anything about it and thought it was because he knew what little regard I held spooks in. And if he had thought I’d hold that against his father, then I didn’t want to know, so I’d never said anything either.

  “You were only eleven when he was first diagnosed. He never wanted you to worry, sweetheart.”

  “It was that bad?”

  “Yes. He was scheduled for surgery after he returned from India. Hazelton had already spoken of assigning him to a desk permanently.” She looked away, but not before I saw the sadness in her eyes. “One way or another, your father’s last mission would have been his last.”

  Quinn went to her and put his arms around her. “Oh, Mother.”

  For just a moment she let him support her, but then she straightened, and he let her go.

  “I’m sorry, Portia.”

  “Thank you, Mark. I regret you never got to know Nigel.”

  “So do I.”

  “I think you would have gotten along very well.”

  “He’d have defended me from Novotny, wouldn’t he?”

  That made her laugh, and she cupped my cheek. “Yes, although I’m inclined to think he would have considered it unnecessary.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve already called Tony and Bryan, and they’ll be here as soon as they can get a flight out. Jefferson and Ludovic should be here in time for lunch tomorrow.”

  “Will you let me know what they intend to do?” I asked.

  “Of course. Now suppose we take a look at those plans. I think you’ll find what Theo and his architect have come up with is quite interesting.”

  “The guy’s good, I’ll tell you that.” Novotny spread out the plans for the third floor on the coffee table. “He was thinking of making this an exercise room with a space for weights, various equipment, a shower, and a lap pool.”

  “Of course the final decision is yours.” Portia gazed from Quinn to me, smiling, and I got a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. God, I was becoming such a sap.

  Quinn reached for my hand, and we all leaned forward to study the plans, but before we could do more than give them a cursory examination, the doorbell rang. We exchanged glances.

  “Were you expecting someone, Mother?”

  “Allison said she and Chance might stop by, but not until later.”

  “I’ll get it.” Novotny pushed his chair back, scooped up the kitten, and handed her to Portia. “We don’t want her running out,” he said to no one in particular.

  “Has she shown a tendency to play the escape artist?” I asked.

  “No, but Gregor has become very protective of her, and he worries that her being away from home for three weeks might have caused her to forget where she lives.”

  I looked at Miss Priss, sprawled on her back so Portia could pet her belly, and I was willing to bet the kitten wouldn’t be taking off anytime soon, not even if the door was left wide open.

  Novotny was back before we could miss him. “It’s for you, Quinn.” He sounded annoyed.

  “Excuse me?” Quinn looked up with a smile that quickly morphed into his Ice Man expression. “Bram. What are you doing here?”

  Rayner ignored that, went to Portia, and took her hand.

&nb
sp; She was gracious enough to allow it, but Miss Priss wasn’t happy to have her belly rubs interfered with. She swatted at him, and her claws weren’t retracted.

  Rayner snatched his hand away and examined it for puncture wounds. He scowled at the kitten, then turned a pasted-on smile toward Portia. “I’m sorry to burst in like this, but I need to speak with Quinton.”

  “I told you we have nothing to talk about,” Quinn said, his tone dismissive.

  “You heard him, Bramwell,” Portia said. Her voice was ice cold. “Gregor, see Mr. Rayner to the door, please.”

  I let a smile curl my lips. The last time I’d seen the Ice Queen in action was when Portia had torn into Holmes for not making any attempt to rescue her son. It was a real pleasure to see her at work.

  “Portia, please.” Sweat beaded on Rayner’s brow.

  She glanced at her son, and when he nodded, turned back to Rayner. “Very well. You have five minutes.”

  “That’s not very much—”

  She picked up her dainty little coffee cup and took a sip. Rayner looked as if he’d like a cup, but she made no effort to offer him one.

  “Time’s ticking,” Novotny said. His stance made it obvious that as soon as the five minutes were up, he intended to grab Rayner by the arm, drag him to the front door, and chuck him out.

  All right, Novotny! Way to go.

  Wait, what was I thinking?

  “Very well.” Rayner scowled. “You can’t leave, Quinn.”

  “I fail to see why I can’t.”

  Rayner gritted his teeth together. “Because I’m not going to accept your resignation.”

  “You already did.”

  “No, I have it on my desk, but I refuse to file it.”

  “You may as well. I have no intention of returning.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I could overlook being treated like a raw recruit in front of someone who’s been with the Company for less time than I have—”

  “Jenner has been with us for the past ten years. That makes him your senior.”

  “And he sat behind a desk the entire time,” I said.

  Rayner started, having forgotten I was there. Really stupid on his part.

  “While Quinn’s been an active operative the entire time he’s been with the Company,” I added. If Rayner had any sense, he’d beware my mild tone, but I had the feeling he’d ignore it. Typical. “And that’s not including the unofficial time he spent working for his uncles.”

  “How do you—” He waved it aside. “That’s hardly germane.”

  “Really?” Portia set aside her coffee cup and rose to her feet. She was a petite woman, but just then she appeared to be a warrior queen. “And yet my son put his life on the line as surely as any of the officers officially employed during that time.”

  “I beg your pardon, Portia. You’re…” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I’ve… I’ve been put in an untenable position.”

  No one said anything, but Rayner was too much the professional to fidget or rush into speech.

  Finally he said, “You’re one of the best we’ve got, Quinn.”

  “No, he’s the best,” I told him.

  Rayner curled his lip at me. “I thought you always said you were the best.”

  “I am, but you were talking about the CIA, and Quinn was the best you had. You were an asshole—sorry, Portia…”

  “No need to apologize, Mark. You’re right, and he is.”

  “Portia!” Rayner was obviously affronted.

  I swallowed a grin and studied my fingernails. “You were the one who let Quinn go.”

  “I told you that wasn’t my choice… Why am I even talking to you?”

  “Why didn’t you do anything, Bram?” Quinn asked. “Not about me—I’m safe enough here, and if the Company is looking for a way to get rid of me, this time they have for certain—but all those poor people who are in danger because of this action.”

  “I had no choice. You know I serve the office. I was given orders by… well, by someone high in the administration.”

  “Are you fu-freaking nuts?” Novotny looked like he was ready to jump all over Rayner and beat the living shit out of him. “You’d continue to back them after this? I think you’re making a goddamned mistake,” he snarled. “How can you trust them? What makes you think you won’t be next?” The phone rang, and he stomped across the room to answer it. “Mann residence. … Oh, hullo, Lara. How’s everyone?” Abruptly he made a sound I’d never heard from him. Portia rushed to him. So did Quinn. Obviously I wasn’t the only one who’d never heard him make that sound.

  “What is it, dear one?”

  “Alyona…” Novotny had gone gray in the face, and his legs started to go out from under him. I knew this wouldn’t be good. Portia took the phone he still held, and Quinn slid an arm around his shoulders.

  “Sit down, Gregor,” he murmured and got him into a chair.

  Portia spoke into the phone. “Lara, it’s Portia. What is it?” She listened silently for a minute, then said, “I’m so very sorry. When— … Yes, I’ll take care of him. When is the funeral? … I see. All right. We’ll be up as soon as we can. Our condolences, my dear.” She hung up and turned to us. “Alyona passed away a little while ago,” she said. Sorrow mingled with the tears in her eyes.

  Shit. I was sorry to hear that. Quinn and I had seen her earlier in the spring. At the time, Quinn had admitted the woman who’d been like a second mother to him even after he’d left for Harvard wasn’t likely to live beyond the first few weeks of summer, and I knew this would upset him as much as Novotny. I went to the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of fine whisky—the only kind Portia would stock—and poured a couple of fingers into two glasses. Portia took one from me and brought it to Novotny’s lips. He clutched the glass with two hands, but she continued to hold on and made sure he didn’t choke on it.

  I gave the other one to Quinn. He stared at it blankly, then took it, knocked back the amber liquid, and handed me the empty glass before he turned his attention to his former director.

  “We’re done here, Bram,” he said, his lips in a grim line.

  “All right, it’s obvious I won’t get anywhere today—”

  “You won’t get anywhere any day,” I snapped.

  He ground his teeth again, then said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Novotny. Quinton, we’ll talk about this when you get back.”

  I wanted to tell him he wouldn’t get to talk to Quinn either, but Quinn was a big boy, and he’d make his own decisions. I took Rayner’s arm, letting my nails dig into the muscle of his biceps. “I’ll show you the door.”

  Rayner attempted to jerk his arm free. I tightened my grip, and he glared at me. “Quinton was better off before he met you.” He tugged on his arm again.

  “Actually, he’s better off now.” I let him go but stood ready to grab him and chuck him out on his ass.

  He growled and stalked out of the room, and I followed him—just to make sure he didn’t get lost. I wouldn’t have put it past him to try to plant some bugs—you just couldn’t trust those spooks.

  “At least Quinn’s got a life,” I told his back.

  “I think you’re confusing him with you. I’ve heard about you, Vincent. You live, eat, and breathe the WBIS.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “I’ll get him back. You… you’re nothing but a temporary aberration.”

  “Don’t count on either of those. Quinn’s been offered a position at the WBIS.”

  “By you?” He sneered. “You don’t have that authority.”

  “You think so?”

  “He’d never take it!” His horror at the thought was apparent, and I decided to rub it in more.

  “Want to bet? And as an FYI, it was The Boss’s idea.”

  His jaw dropped, and I could see that little tidbit threw him. “We’ll match whatever Trevor Wallace is offering.”

  “You can, but…” I couldn’t resist
yanking his chain. “Actually, Quinn’s considering becoming a private contractor.”

  “We’ll hire him,” Rayner said immediately.

  “Do you honestly think you could afford him?”

  “Goddamn you, Vincent. Quinton would never take this attitude if it weren’t for you.”

  “Quinn’s his own man and does what he feels is right, which you people should have known after working with him all this time.” We arrived in the foyer, and I reached around him and opened the door. “Have a nice evening, and give my regards to your friends up on the Hill. Oh, and you might want to tell them it would be a good idea if they looked over their shoulders. You never can tell who might be coming up behind you.”

  Rayner ground his teeth and strode out the door, and I pushed it shut behind him. Asshole.

  He might have been a decent guy at one point, but he was too wrapped up in Company politics. And after doing that to Quinn…

  I snapped the lock and went back to the living room.

  VI

  NOVOTNY SEEMED MORE together by the time I returned to the living room, and he no longer looked as if he were about to follow his sister. Portia sat close beside him, cradling him against her.

  “I thought I was more prepared for this.” He leaned his cheek against Portia’s shoulder. “I knew Alyona didn’t have much more time, but I thought it would be more than this.” His voice broke.

  He’d hate like hell if he knew I observed him at this low point. I looked away and pretended I didn’t hear it, although I watched him from the corner of my eye.

  Portia threaded her fingers through his hair and tightened her embrace. “We’re never prepared, dear one.” She gave his shoulder a final squeeze, then rose. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get us packed? Quinton and I will make some phone calls.”

  Novotny nodded, took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, then got to his feet and left the room. His gait looked… old. In spite of everything, I didn’t like seeing him like that.

  “I’ll call Jefferson,” Portia said to Quinn, fortunately distracting me. “See if you can reach Tony. He’ll need to have their flight rerouted to JFK or LaGuardia.”