Son of a bitch.

I'd been away from DC for a few days, and I'd come home to- I growled under my breath and stared from Mr. Wallace to the kid, then turned and left his office.

I was already making my plans as I jogged down the stairs to my office on 7.

The kid… He did resemble me a little, but weren't we all supposed to have doppelgangers? I'd wait until Max came back with the DNA results before I started singing Mr. Wonderful.

I didn't want to attract attention when I went to the address the kid gave me, so I'd need to dress inconspicuously. I had just the thing in the closet in my office.

No one paid attention to the gas man.

"Call Matheson," I told my secretary as I went into my office.

"He's in Boston, sir. Mr. Wallace needed him to deal with a computer issue at Huntingdon headquarters. He won't be back until this evening."

Dammit. If The Boss sent him- "All right, find out who Perry's got on in Security." I'd wanted to keep this in-department, but with Matheson unavailable, I'd have to rely on one of the regular security teams.

"That would be Howard and Wierzbowski," she answered without batting an eye. I'd lucked out the day she was assigned to me. "Do you want me to contact them?"

"No, I'll do that." Later. I wanted to look into this myself before I brought anyone else in. I closed the door to my inner office and crossed to the closet where I stored items that would be pertinent to any particular job, unlike Sperling, who'd only used the closet in his office to store his junk.

In a matter of minutes I'd changed clothes, put on a windbreaker, and smoothed back my hair.

Okay, it was time to get down to business.

"I'll be out for the rest of the day, Ms. Parker," I told her. "Finish whatever you're working on and go home."

"Yes, sir." She didn't comment on the way I was dressed. She knew better.

I had one more stop to make before I headed to the parking garage. I needed to pick up some things. I didn't think whoever was after the kid would be stupid enough to leave the body - yeah, I had no doubt the kid was telling me the truth - but would they have enough time to clean up all evidence?

Whoever had murdered Delilah Carson thought he had, but he hadn't. Luminol had revealed blood trace all over the headboard in my bedroom, as I'd suspected, and where the wall behind it joined the wood floor.

Of course I'd ditched the bed and made sure everything else was taken care of before I moved in.

I walked into Supply, and the guy behind the desk grinned broadly when he saw me.

"Hey, Mr. Vincent. You haven't been down here in a while."

"Hello, Ace." His name was really Henry, but he'd confided once that he'd always wanted a cool nickname, and I saw no problem with obliging him. "That's what riding a desk will do to you."

"I guess. I wish I could go out in the field."

He never would. He was below average height and if he weighed 110 dripping wet, that was a lot; he wouldn't have passed the physical requirements, but that didn't have anything to do with why he'd never been recruited to the field. While he was one of the best at what he did - the WBIS wouldn't have hired him otherwise - he just didn't have the temperament. He was better handing out implements of death rather than dealing with them.

And again I had to wonder where Adams' brains were when he decided Matheson would make a good wet boy.

"So, Mr. Wallace called down. He said you'd need this." He pushed what looked like a toolkit across the counter to me. The logo read WGES.

Yeah, no one looked twice at the gas man.

"Thanks."

"Mr. Wallace thinks a lot of you, huh, Mr. Vincent." He didn't wait for me to answer. "I don't suppose you'll let me know what you find?"

"It's personal, not business." I patted his shoulder. "Trust me, it's nothing exciting."

"If you say so." He looked disappointed, and I grinned at him and turned to walk out.

Only when I was about fifteen minutes from the location did I call Howard. It was skirting The Boss' orders, but if he didn't like it, he could fire me.

"Yes, sir?"

"I want you and your partner at this address ASAP." I gave it to him and had him repeat it. "Take the meat wagon."

"Yes, sir." Howard would be hitting traffic, so I should have enough time to do a little investigating of my own.

He'd been transferred to Security about eighteen months earlier, and he was doing a decent job. I'd kept an eye on him for a time while he was still in my department, since he was senior to Matheson and in normal agencies would have been given the promotion to senior special agent after I'd been bumped to Deputy Director. He'd actually seemed relieved; The Boss and I were probably the only ones aware of that. And maybe Matheson, although he kept his mouth shut.

'Face it, Mark,' Mr. Wallace had said. 'You're intimidating.'

'Me?'

He'd laughed and said dryly, 'I can't imagine why anyone would tread warily around you.'

'Yeah. Beats hell out of me too.'

* * *

I walked around at the apartment. It was small, and in a rundown part of town, the kind of area where the neighbors minded their own business and appreciated it if you minded your own, and if anyone screamed, everyone pretended not to hear.

The woman's bedroom was about the size of a postage stamp, furnished with a twin-sized bed and a small dresser. There was no closet. Her clothes were about what she would buy from Goodwill or the Salvation Army.

The kid's room was even smaller. It had no dresser, but there was a closet, which was empty. I'd seen the backpack at the corner of Mr. Wallace's desk, and it wasn't large enough to hold an entire wardrobe. Either the woman believed in traveling light, or whoever had killed her had taken the kid's clothes.

The question was: why? Were they so sure they'd get their hands on him?

Not fucking likely. I'd seen what he'd drawn so effortlessly that time I'd met him in McDonald's - he'd only been about eight at the time, too young even by WBIS standards - and there was no way I'd let any rival agency get their grubby mitts on him.

And what the fuck were we going to do with him now? Maybe one of the secretaries could take him home. Women liked kids, didn't they? And this one had a hard luck story that would melt the heart of even The Boss' dragon lady.

Well, she was the one who'd handed me that tray with the milk and cookies.

I went back to the living room and took in the details.

Furniture was toppled over, splintered, blood-spattered, and in the midst was the body. Yeah, they'd left it.

She'd fought back, hard. Her hair was soaked with blood and her face was so battered I didn't recognize her as the woman who'd been with the kid when I'd first seen them in McDonalds. She'd been pretty then. Not so much now.

And whoever had done this to her hadn't even tried to clean up.

Sloppy. Really, really sloppy.

I put on a pair of latex gloves, knelt beside her, and raised her hand carefully. If this was some kind of a crime-of-the-week movie, she'd still be alive. She'd open her eyes, recognize me, and clutch weakly at my hand.

"Wyn - take care of him, Vincent. He's your son." And she'd go on to gasp out how it had happened.

But this wasn't a movie. She didn't open her eyes - I doubted she'd be able to do that even if she wasn't dead - and there was no way she could know my name.

As for how it happened - I pretty much knew that. Some bitch I'd had sex with had snatched the used condom. According to Mr. Wallace, she wasn't the kid's mother, so what had she done with the semen? Sold it? I could picture a bidding war, and scowled. I didn't like that idea one damn bit.

Or had she purposely been sent to collect it? I liked the idea of someone playing me for a chump even less.

As soon as I got this sorted out, I'd damn well find out who the fuck was behind this.

But how had this woman become involved?

It looked like there was something under her fingernails. Again, not professional. They had to know she'd scratched them. They should have removed her fingertips, thereby making identification more difficult as well.

I put plastic bags over her hands to preserve evidence, but this wasn't my area of expertise. Usually my job was just seeing that after a person got dead, it wasn't traced back to the WBIS.

Something was peeking out from under the sofa skirt. Turned out to be her purse. Her wallet was in it, as well as her driver's license.

Jeanette Van Orden. Age thirty-one. Address-

Goddammit!

I pulled out my cell phone.

"You intending to get here any time soon, Howard?"

"We're four blocks away, sir. We should be there in about five minutes. If this asshole in front of me would move his fucking ass!" he yelled. There was muffled laughter in the background, from Wierzbowski, I assumed, and abruptly Howard cleared his throat. "Sorry, sir."

"Just remember, you can't kill him. It's still daylight, and it would make the WBIS look bad." I disconnected the call, then dialed another number. "Smitty- "

"Vincent! How nice to hear from you!"

"Uh… Yeah. Same here."

"And how's your boy?" The medical examiner had fallen in lust with Matheson, although as it turned out, Matheson was involved with someone else, someone he'd wound up marrying, even though same-sex marriages weren't recognized at the time.

"Still married." He'd taken a few days off and flown to Massachusetts with Theo, and now they were legally married. They had a rugrat, too, and Matheson had brought their son to the last Christmas party at headquarters. All the women had cooed over the kid and talked baby talk to him, and even The Boss had chucked him under the chin.

Smitty sighed.

"I thought you were living with Max."

"Doesn't mean I can't ask about another man."

"Don't break Max's heart." The little French doctor had been in love with Browne, another WBIS agent, who was still protesting he was straight. Max had finally cut his losses and moved out of the apartment they'd been sharing. Avery Schmidt had been there to pick up the pieces.

"Are you threatening me?" He seemed more curious than concerned.

"I don't want to see him hurt."

"How come? No, wait, don't tell me! He's one of yours."

"One of my what?"

"Oh, come on, Vincent. You know you've got a collection of misfits you've been taking care of for years."

"Don't know what you're talking about, Schmidt." I wasn't going to tell him Max had protected my lover at the risk of his own life, and for that I'd do whatever it took to make sure no one hurt him.

"Oookay." He knew when I started calling him by his last name he was treading on thin ice. "So what can I do for you?"

Smart man, Smitty.

"I've got a body I'm going to need you to autopsy."

"Who'd you kill?"

"Wasn't me."

"Of course."

"It wasn't, Smitty." Not this time. "When can you be at headquarters?"

"I've got a case I need to wrap up, but once that's done- probably about an hour. Um… do you have any objections if I ask Max to assist?"

"No, but he'll have to check his schedule." I knew he was running that DNA test, and I wanted that done soonest. "And send the bill to me." This wasn't WBIS business. It didn't matter if the kid was mine or not; the woman had died trying to protect him, I had no doubt about that. Once the autopsy was complete, I'd see she got a decent burial. Guts deserved to be repaid.

"Will do, Vincent.Thanks. I'm planning on taking Max to Italy, and this will go a long way toward a four star hotel."

Because of Max's past, he wouldn't be able to return to France. Oh, I could get him in if he really wanted to go home, but he had some bitter feelings for his homeland, and he hadn't gotten over them yet. When he did…

"Will you be observing?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see you later then."

"Right. Thanks, Smitty."

I hung up, checked my watch, and looked out the window. The meat wagon was just pulling up to the curb.

I should have just enough time to make one more call. Quinn and I were supposed to be at his mother's home in Great Falls in half an hour. I hit 1, and he picked up on the first ring.

"Hello, Mark." He wasn't at work - he wouldn't have called me by my name if he was.

"Hi, baby." Three years, and I still got hard when he said my name in that tone of voice. And if it wasn't for the fact that he worked for the C-fucking-I-fucking-A I'd have asked him to sell his townhouse and move in with me. My living room was huge and would have no trouble fitting that baby grand of his.

"How was your trip?"

"It was a trip."

"That good, hmmm? Well, we all have those."

"You don't."

"It's nice to be appreciated."

"I'll appreciate you more tonight."

"I look forward to it. And speaking of tonight, you're running late. If you don't get here soon- "

"Yeah, I know. Look, something's come up. I have to cancel tonight."

There was a minute pause. "That's too bad." He didn't question me. "Mother was looking forward to our joining her."

"I'm sorry. Would you tell her I'm sorry?"

"Of course, when I cancel for both of us."

"You don't have to do that. You haven't had dinner with her in a while."

"No, but I had lunch with her the other day."

"I didn't know that."

"Something has gone on in DC and Mark Vincent is unaware?" He was teasing me, but there was a note of tension underlying the teasing.

"What's going on, Quinn?"

"I'll… I'll tell you when I come home later."

"I'll hold you to that. Come to my place."

"That's what I was talking about."

I found myself grinning. He considered my condo home.

"Bring some leftovers, okay?"

"Certainly. But that reminds me- "

"Thanks." I didn't think I was going to be in the mood to do anything in the kitchen, even heating something in the microwave. "Listen, don't let Novotny give you a hard time."

"No, Mark."

I could hear the gurney being wheeled down the corridor. "I've got to go."

"All right. Watch your back."

"Always do." I liked that he worried about me. No one ever had before him. "Bye, baby." I flipped the phone shut, put it back in my pocket, and went to unlock the door, my Glock out and the hammer cocked.

Just because it sounded like a couple of WBIS agents, didn't mean it was.

The door opened. "Mr. Vin- "

Howard jabbed his partner in the ribs. "Bugs, Wierzbowski!" he hissed.

Wierzbowski turned pale. "Sorry, sir." He was young. Jesus, was the WBIS recruiting from kindergarten now?

Well, he'd learn or he'd die. "I swept for them and the place is clean, but just so you know: until you're sure there are no bugs, it's a good idea to assume otherwise." I gestured behind me. "She's over there."

Wierzbowski took one look at the body, gagged, and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Bathroom?"

I pointed toward an open door. He bolted through it, and we heard the sound of him vomiting, hopefully into the toilet.

"I'm sorry, sir." Howard was red with embarrassment.

"Just make sure no trace is left behind." Until I found out what the fuck was going on, I wanted nothing leaving a trail of DNA breadcrumbs back to the WBIS.

"No, sir." He studied the room and then the body. "Whoever did this really went for overkill. She's such a small woman."

"She put up a good fight though."

"Looks like she did. Wierzbowski, you done yet?"

"Yeah." He came out of the bathroom. His eyes were wet, but his mouth was firm. "Sorry, sir. I wasn't expecting… She's so little."

"Yeah, that's the general consensus."

"Dust for prints, wouldja, Ski?" Howard took out a small camera and began taking pictures.

My cell phone rang, the 1812 Overture - it only played that for The Boss - and I answered it. "Yes, sir?"

"I'd like you back at headquarters as soon as possible." He spoke in a soft voice, not his usual gruff tone, but I didn't question him about it.

"I'm just finishing here, sir. Howard and Wierzbowski will take the body in."

"I don't suppose there's any identification?"

"Actually, there is, but I wouldn't bet the ranch that it's authentic." Not with that address on it.

"Sloppy."

"Yes, sir. I thought so myself."

"Is that to throw us off, or because they're really that unprofessional?"

"I wouldn't want to commit myself just yet, Mr. Wallace, but I'd say they're really that unprofessional. They left her fingertips."

Wierzbowski gulped so loudly I could hear him. Howard just shook his head. "We'll finish here, Mr. Vincent, then bag the body and bring her in."

"Did you hear that, sir?"

"Yes. Leave them to it, Mark. I've found something that might interest you."

About the kid? Had Max got the results back to him already? I wasn't going to bring that up over an open line.

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way." I disconnected the call. "Wierzbowski, don't throw up on anything important. Howard, wrap this up as soon as you can. The police haven't shown up yet, but that doesn't mean to say some neighbor won't feel it's his civic duty to call them."

"We're on it, sir."

"Okay. Once you get back to headquarters take her down to the morgue. Dr. Schmidt will take it from there."

As I left, I heard Wierzbowski ask, "How do you deal with it, Jake? The men I can handle, but the women- "

"Turn it off."

"Jesus, I was afraid you were going to say something like that. How long did it take you to get used to this?"

"What makes you think I have?" Howard's voice was tired. "Suck it up, Ski, and let's get this done."

* * *

I dropped off the WGES bag in Supply and went up to The Boss' office. Ms. DiBlasi was still at her desk.

"He's in his lounge. Joseph is probably asleep."

"Who?"

"Your- The child."

"Okay, thanks." I wasn't touching that with a ten foot pole.

I went through his office, pressed a corner of the third shelf to the left of his desk, and waited for the wall to slide back. The Boss' lounge would be down a short corridor.

He was seated at a compact table, and he looked up as I walked in. He raised a finger to his lips, and nodded toward the couch. The kid was curled up on it, his back to us.

So that was why his voice had been so low when he'd spoken to me.

"You've found something, sir?" I asked softly.

"Yes. What does the name Barbara Graham mean to you?"

"She's a whack job who's a plastic surgery junkie."

"A rich whack job. She happens to fund the Biederman Institute of Meteorological and Oceanographic Studies."

Which was just a fancy way of saying rocks and water, and either way was a bunch of bullshit.

"Wasn't that the place Huntingdon lured Bruchner from?

"Yes." He gave a tight smile and slid a photo across the table, and I picked it up and studied it.

The woman was in her fifties, trying to look thirty, and not succeeding very well. Her blue eyes were wide, the skin around them unlined and stretched so she had an Oriental appearance. Her cheekbones were high and tight, almost glassy, and her chin angled to a point, making her face triangular.

All she needed were some whiskers and she'd look like a Siamese cat.

"What's she got to do with anything?"

"She's Joe's mother. Or perhaps I should say more specifically, she's the egg donor."

Just as I might be the sperm donor? "How's that test coming along?"

"I knew you'd want to know, so I buzzed Max. He asked if you wanted it done fast or done right. And then he gave me the results. Congratulations, Dad."

I was a- Shit. My tie was suddenly tight around my throat and the room felt claustrophobic. I'd always been- I'd never intended to-

Okay, I'd think about that later. "How did I get involved in this?"

"As far as we can ascertain, you crossed paths with her fifteen years ago."

"I'd remember someone as- "

He passed me another photo. "Maybe this one will jog your memory?"

"Nice-looking." The woman in this one was younger, and it didn't look as if a knife had touched her face yet. "But no, I don't recognize her."

"Apparently you made more of an impression on her than she did on you."

"Fifteen years ago." I shrugged. "Not to state the obvious, but that was 1990." Where in fuck's name had she seen me? "I was out of the country more than I was in it that year."

"Except for when you were at that science symposium in lower Manhattan."

I might not remember the Graham bitch, but I remembered all my jobs. I was doing the bodyguard thing for Dr. Tremblay. "She was there? Why?"

"She was headhunting for BIMOS. From what I've been able to ascertain, she saw you."

"And to see me was to want me?" I felt a hard flush edge up over my cheekbones and head for my scalp.

The Boss grinned, but it was obvious he didn't find it any more amusing than I did. "Someone made the mistake of grabbing Dr. Tremblay's arm. You broke his hand, one finger at a time."

"I remember."

"She thought you were on Huntingdon's payroll - yes, I know that was the point. At any rate, she was impressed and put in a request for your services. She claimed she needed a bodyguard. And of course they'd need to do a background check and full physical on you. Not that Dr. Graham was challenging our methods, but what she was working on was very hush hush, very much a matter of national security."

"According to who?"

"Dr. Graham, of course."

"Huh. What's she a doctor of?"

"Genetic engineering."

Fuck me sideways. I wanted to run a hand through my hair, but I didn't. "Since I was never offered the job, it's safe to assume you turned her down. Why?"

"Neither Huntingdon nor the WBIS was about to pimp you out." He chuckled sourly at my raised eyebrow. "I asked you to guard Dr. Tremblay because he was one of ours. This woman- "

"How did she even find out how to contact us? No, don't tell me. Sperling was behind it."

"Really, Mark. Contrary to your opinion of him, it wasn't Bob's mission in life to fuck up your operations."

Could have fooled me, but I didn't say anything. Not about that. "What I'd like to know is why she wanted my DNA."

"I imagine we'd need to ask her, and at this point I have no intention of letting her become aware that we've got the boy. At any rate, as I said, she donated the egg. She had no desire to carry the pregnancy to term herself." He changed the subject abruptly. "You said you had the deceased woman's ID?"

"Yeah." I took her wallet from my pocket and handed it to him.

"Jeanette Van Orden?" His eyes flickered back and forth over the information on the license, and I knew the minute he'd reached the anomaly - he frowned. "This is the address of the apartment you had in Forest Heights."

"Yeah."

"The one you blew up."

"I didn't blow it up." It wasn't my fault that shit Sperling had jimmied my door open and it had exploded in his face.

"Of course not." He tapped his palm with the license. "You'll need to protect the boy until we can find out what, precisely, is going on."

I'd need to? I scrubbed a hand over my face. Well, yeah, I guessed I would. And Quinn - My first thought was how was he going to react when I told him about the kid? My second thought was how was I going to tell him? Because there was no way I could - would - keep something this big from him.

The Boss met my eyes. "Joe can't stay here."

"Joe? That's a good name." And it made sense that the kid would want to use any other name than the one he'd been given.

He'd told me his real name when we'd met, and I'd been a little surprised he'd admitted to it. Parents had a lot to answer for when they saddled their kids with weirdass names. My old lady had a fucking sick sense of humor, and she'd stuck me with the middle name of Clark. Okay, Clark alone would have made me sound like a mild-mannered reporter, but Mark Clark? Jesus. That was buried so deep in my files even Quinn had no idea.

"You must have made quite an impression on him. He wanted to know if he could change his name to Mark."

"Huh?"

"Then he looked at your business card and chose Joe."

I must have looked stunned, because his expression became amused.

"When did you meet him?"

"Two and a half years ago. I thought he was just another kid." Then I'd seen what he was drawing.

"Oh?"

I gave him a flat look. When the kid turned eighteen, if he wanted to join the WBIS, fine. But until then, I had no intention of telling anyone what he was capable of.

The Boss raised an eyebrow, but he didn't challenge me. "At any rate, this is no place for a child." He powered down his laptop and closed the lid.

"No, but neither is my place." I didn't have Nintendo or PlayStation, had no games on my computer, but even if I did, no one touched my computer, not even Quinn. As for DVDs-

"That's okay, Mr. Wells. I'll be fine." The kid was awake.

"The name's Vincent." How much had he overheard?

"I only called because Ma- " His voice cracked. "She… she thought I shouldn't be alone. I can take care of myself, though. I'm- " He swallowed hard. "I'm very self-reliant."

The look on his face reminded me of someone, and after a minute I realized who it was - me, when my old lady was lying passed out drunk on the ratty old sofa in our equally ratty apartment.

"No. Accept it, kid. I'm the adult, and you have no say in this." I looked at The Boss. "I was supposed to go down for the - " I wasn't going to insult the kid's intelligence by spelling autopsy. "To see Dr. Schmidt."

"I'll let him know you've been called away."

"Thanks. And tell him- "

He held up a hand. "He knows the drill. He'll notify you of his findings."

"Okay." I turned back to the kid. "You must be hungry." I always was at his age. "Go take a leak and wash your hands. We'll get some dinner, and then I'll take you home."

The kid's eyes were cautious. "That's kind of you- "

"I'm not kind. Anyone'll tell you that. What I am is the best, and no one gets to you except through me, and believe me when I tell you there won't be anything left of them if they try that."

Mr. Wallace stifled a laugh behind his hand, and I scowled at him.

"If you say so, Mr. Wells. But I really can take care of myself."

"Uh huh."

"You'd better go now, Mark. I'm sure this young man could do with a BigMac."

"And fries?" The kid's eye lit up, and now he looked like a ten-year-old should. "And a Coke? Could we?"

"Sure."

"Gee, thanks!" He rushed into the bathroom.

"Don't mention it," I called after him. On the way home we'd stop at Theo's place. He had a kid; he'd probably have some games I could borrow. And maybe some kid-suitable DVDs.

"He doesn't have very much in the way of clothes, Mark." The Boss handed me the kid's backpack.

In an outer pouch was a travel-size toothbrush and toothpaste. Inside, under a carefully folded black trash bag, were some underwear, socks, a pair of jeans, sweatpants, a couple of flannel shirts, and a Harry Potter sweatshirt. At the very bottom was a tattered and worn teddy bear.

"I don't keep any money in there, if that's what you're looking for." The kid was standing in the doorway, his eyes cold.

"Zip it. After McDonald's we're hitting Sears. You're gonna need a shitload of clothes."

"I imagine you're both going to be quite busy. I'm going to look into this further, Mark." The Boss rested his palm on his laptop. "I'll upload everything I find to your home computer."

"Thanks. You ready, kid? Okay, let's go. 'Night, sir."

"Goodnight, Mark. Goodnight, Joe."

"Goodnight, sir."

The kid had good manners, I'd give him that.

* * *

We didn't go to Sears. I had a suspicion we might be followed, so after our visit to the Golden Arches, I drove to a Kids Gap in Arlington, and then hit the Best Buy that was just down the street.

"Are we going home now?" he asked as we put the clothes and laptop in the trunk

"Not yet." We were going back to DC. I had one more stop to make. "Get in."

The kid sat beside me and buckled up. By rights he should have been in the back seat, but if anything happened, I needed to be able to get him out of the car fast.

Paranoid? Maybe. Didn't mean they weren't out to get him.

"Thank you for the Big Mac and the clothes and the computer."

"Not a problem. You always travel this light?"

"Ma- " He swallowed. "She taught me to keep just what I needed in my backpack, that if we had to go, everything else would be left behind."

"She was a smart woman."

"Yes." He stared out the passenger window.

"You know she wasn't your biological mother."

"Yes," he repeated. "She told me a long time ago. That doesn't matter. She loved me and kept me as safe as she could."

"Have they been after you all your life?" I scanned the area, then put the car in gear.

"No. For the longest time I don't think they even knew about me. Ma arranged it- " He shut up, and I took my eyes from the road long enough to meet his eyes. They were hazel, like mine, and right now there was a baffled expression in them.

"What?"

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get me to tell you stuff I'm not supposed to? You did the same thing in McDonalds that time. I wasn't even using my real name when I told you the kids made fun of it."

"Don't sweat it." The light had turned red. I slowed to a stop behind the cars ahead of me.

"Yeah, but- " He shut up.

"So what did Jeanette arrange?" I turned my head to observe him. His lips folded in a tight line. "You might as well tell me, because I'll find out sooner or later."

"Why?"

"It's what I do."

"No. I mean, why do you care?"

"Looks like I'm your father." I had a sudden image of Darth Vader telling Luke Skywalker something similar.

He shook his head. "Why would that matter? That other woman is my biological mother, but she doesn't care about me, not the real me."

"First off, I'm not her." I could picture Quinn laughing and agreeing I definitely wasn't a 'her'. "And secondly - you've got smarts and you've got guts. I'm not going to let her get you."

"But how could you stop her? She's got so much money. She can hire anyone she wants. You wouldn't know- " He was starting to work himself into a panic.

"Okay, shut up, and listen to me. You don't know me from Adam, but I'm the best at what I do." He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "And no, I'm not going to tell you what I do. All you need to know is that if that bitch tries to get you, she's going to wind up dead."

His eyes grew enormous. "You'd- you'd kill her?"

"Sure."

"A… a lot of times grownups say things like that, but then they don't. Or can't."

"Listen to me," I repeated, "because I'm not going to say this again. If I tell you I'm going to do something, then I'll do it."

"O- " he gulped and swallowed. "Okay."

"Any idea why the bitch wants you?"

"No." He looked out the passenger window, his hands fisted on his thighs.

Okay. I wasn't going to push him. For now.

"She's a doctor."

"How do you know this?" Had he been awake long enough to overhear what The Boss and I had talked about?

"I hacked into the BIMOS computer system." He turned his head and met my eyes. "I… I'm afraid they may have found us because they were able to trace what I did back to the library I used."

"No. If they'd succeeded in tracing it, they'd have wound up at a library used by half the population of DC." That was an exaggeration, but he didn't need a crap-load of guilt on top of everything else. "Don't worry about it."

He sighed and looked out the window again.

The jerk behind me leaned on his horn, and I realized the light had turned green. I flipped him off and took my foot off the brake. I kept an eye on him through the rearview mirror, letting the car roll forward really slowly.

He rode my bumper, and I let the car slow even more. After a couple of blocks he leaned on his horn again, then made a sharp right turn.

I grinned in satisfaction, increased my speed, and pressed the key to activate the car's phone system.

"Speak a command, please." It was a warm, pleasant voice, the closest I could find that sounded like Portia Mann.

"Dial."

"Name, please."

"Theo."

"Dialing the number."

"Whoa! That's wicked!"

"No, that's Mother." I glanced at the kid.

"Like the computer from Alien?" He was staring at the dash in something like awe.

"You're familiar with that movie?" It didn't surprise me how fast he seemed to bounce back from a devastating incident. At his age, I'd done the same thing. Maybe it was a Vincent trait.

"Yeah! Ma had a fit when she found out I'd seen it. I mean Jeanette- I mean… " His voice hitched and just as quickly he looked miserable.

I found myself patting his shoulder. I didn't know what to say. Quinn would know how to handle a situation like this.

Just then there was a click as the call connected, and I blew out a silent breath.

Matheson snarled over the speakers. "This had fucking better be a matter of life and death!" His tone promised death and dismemberment.

I was proud of him.

"I thought you were in Boston."

"Mr. Vincent? I was, but I got home a little while ago. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Listen, is Theo there?"

"He's got the baby. Just a second." This was one of the reasons why Matheson had been promoted to senior special agent over men who'd been at the WBIS for longer than he: he didn't ask obvious questions. He put the phone down, but I could still hear what was going on. "Babe, it's Mr. Vincent. Here, let me take Bear." And then he began murmuring to the baby.

I was really glad I couldn't make out what he was saying.

Theo came on the line. "Vince, is something wrong?"

Why was that the first question out of everyone's mouth? "No, everything is peachy-keen. I need to talk to you."

"You are talking to me."

"Hah ha. Face to face."

"Okay, but the place is a mess. Bear's been cutting another tooth, and I've been walking the floors with him."

"Doesn't matter."

"If you'd spent the day with a teething baby, it would matter to you."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"I know, Vince. Sorry. It's been a long day."

"Look, this shouldn't take long."

"Okay. I'll make a pot of coffee. There's some baklava left too. I remember how much you liked it."

"You don't have to go to any trouble. I just- "

"It's no trouble."

"All right then. Thanks." The kid touched my jacket sleeve. "Yeah?"

"Could I have hot chocolate?" he whispered.

"Do you have hot chocolate, Theo?"

"No, but I've got cocoa. I make it from scratch. Why? You want it?"

"Yeah."

"And the little marshmallows?" the kid asked hopefully.

"Have you got little marshmallows, Theo, or do I need to pick them up?"

"I've got 'em."

"Okay."

"Since when have you had a thing for cocoa with little marshmallows?" He was sounding interested.

"I'll explain when I see you. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes? No, you can't come that soon! I won't have time- Wait a second! We? Vince! Are we finally going to meet your guy?"

"Theo- " I made his name a warning. Quinn had gone to their wedding as my guest, but he'd pretty much stayed in the background. The CIA wasn't as comfortable with alternate lifestyles as the WBIS. And Theo and Matheson had been so wrapped up in each other Freddy Krueger could have been on the dance floor with Jason Voorhees and they wouldn't have noticed.

"I know, I know. If you did, you'd have to kill me. Well, Wills wouldn't let you. So there!"

"Theo, just make the cocoa and a pot of coffee."

There was a little fumbling, and then, "Sorry, Mr. Vincent. Theo's had a rough day." Matheson had taken the phone from him. "We'll see you in fifteen minutes."

"Right." I disconnected the call, and then had a sudden thought. "You're not allergic to cats, are you, kid?"

"I don't know. We were never able to have pets."

Well, we'd just have to see then.

* * *

Because of the traffic it was almost twenty-five minutes later when I pulled up in front of Theo's house.

I got out of the car and walked around to the curb. The kid hadn't gotten out. I opened the door and leaned in. "Problem?"

His eyes behind the lenses of his glasses were enormous and scared. "Are you- " He swallowed. "Are you gonna leave me here?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"I heard people talking. At the place where you work."

"Yeah? What'd they have to say?"

"You live alone."

Yeah, I did. No one at the WBIS knew about my private life, knew that I was in a relationship with Quinton Mann. I'd made sure of that.

Although lately I'd been thinking more and more about asking Quinn to move in with me.

The kid kept staring at me, and I shrugged. "Well, I guess I won't be any more. Now, come on."

He unbuckled his seatbelt, slid out of the car, and I made sure he was ahead of me going up the steps to the front door.

Without turning, I aimed the remote at the car and pressed the key that would arm the alarm system. It chirruped quietly.

He came to a dead stop on the top step. "My backpack!"

"It's fine." I pushed the buzzer and spoke into the grill. "It's Vincent."

There was a sharp snick as the door was unlocked.

I made the kid go in ahead of me, checking out the street one more time before I followed him into the foyer. Rock music was coming from the downstairs apartment. The girls must have been entertaining some of their younger clients.

The kid looked around, then gestured toward the door. "There?"

"No. We're going upstairs. Go on." I pointed to the staircase. He stared up into my eyes. "What?"

"Do you- are you watching my back?"

"Yeah."

"My mother - Jeanette - she did that."

I crouched down so we were eye to eye. "She was a good woman."

"Yes. I know she wasn't my real mom- "

"She was in all the ways that mattered." I'd learned that, not from my own mother, but from Quinn's, who'd welcomed me into her heart and her family. "Don't ever think otherwise."

"But that other woman… "

"Don't worry about her." I'd already told him if she made a move on him she was as good as dead. "Now get a move on. I have work tomorrow."

He turned and began trotting up the stairs.

* * *

Matheson stood blocking the doorway to their apartment. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, his hair was disheveled, and his right arm was behind his back.

"Good evening, sir." He relaxed and stepped aside. "Come in." The gaze he sent over the kid was thorough for all it was brief, but he didn't say anything.

I urged the kid to enter, following close after him. Matheson closed the door.

"Theo? It's Mr. Vincent," he called. "Excuse me, sir. I'll just go put this away." His Glock was pointed toward the floor, his finger sliding the safety back on.

The kid gasped and backed away until he'd placed me between him and my agent. I felt my jaw tighten. Matheson met my eyes, his expression flat, and then he walked out of the room.

Most kids would have been excited to see an honest-to-god pistol. Jeanette Van Orden had taught this boy to be so wary, and whoever had put her in that position was going to pay for it. In spades.

Theo came into the foyer, a blue-wrapped bundle in his arms. "Hi, Vince! It's so good to see you. Thanks again for the bunting."

"You're welcome." I didn't know squat about what babies wore. Portia had come to my rescue when she'd learned I'd needed a gift for the baby my friend and my agent had brought home from the hospital.

The woman had impeccable taste in choosing baby clothes, as in everything else.

Matheson came back in just as the bundle began fussing. "Here, give him to me, babe. You've had him all day." Matheson placed the baby in the crook of his arm and began rubbing a finger over his son's gums.

"I hope you washed your hands, Wills!"

"Of course." Matheson didn't look at him, just gazed down at the baby in his arms and smiled. The kid latched onto Matheson's thumb and pinky and apparently bit down pretty hard on the finger in his mouth. Matheson winced, but kept on rubbing.

"Don't bite Daddy's trigger finger, Bear." Theo ran his hand over Matheson's hair, then turned to me. "Now, who have you brought with you?" His eyes widened when he saw the kid peeking around from behind me, and they went from the kid to me and back again before meeting Matheson's eyes. "Uh… "

"Now you understand," I told them.

"We do?" Theo looked confused, and I put it down to a sleepless night. He was usually more on the ball.

"Yeah, we do, babe."

"Oh!" The light dawned. "We do! Congratulations, Vince! But… " I could see he was dying to ask how it had happened, but another glance at the kid, and he didn't say anything.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, this is… Joe. Joe, this is Theo and Matheson."

"And don't forget Baby Bear! Hi, Joe!"

"Hello," the kid said cautiously. "Why is his name 'Baby Bear'?"

"It isn't really. We just call him that."

"Why?"

Theo looked thrilled to have an opportunity to explain once again. "That's because I'm Poppa Bear, Wills is Daddy Bear, and this cutie patootie is just right!"

The kid - my kid - laughed.

"Yeah, he is." Matheson stared at Theo, obviously besotted. When he met my eyes, he wiped the expression from his face and cleared his throat. "So what can we do for you, Mr. Vincent?"

"I bought a computer for the kid, but I didn't have the time to go through the games and get him some. I figured you'd have something we could borrow in the meantime, since you have a kid and all."

"Vince, Bear is only seven months old. He doesn't play computer games." My look must have been exasperated, because Theo held up a hand. "Okay, I'll see what I can find. Come on, Joe. I have a whole library of games." Theo put an arm around the kid's shoulders. "What kind do you like? First person shooter? RPG?"

"Age-appropriate, babe!" Matheson called after them.

"How come he calls you 'babe'," Joe asked.

"I'll tell you all about it." Theo grinned at Matheson over his shoulder, and the rest of his words became indistinguishable as they left the room.

Matheson smiled and shook his head. "I'm assuming you didn't come here just to pick Theo's brain with regards to computer games." He continued rubbing Bear's gums, crooning softly to him.

"I've got a situation. I want you to do some looking into it for me."

"Of course."

"Y'know, agreeing so readily could get you killed."

"Crossing the street could get me killed. What can I do for you?"

"This isn't something Theo or the kid need to know."

He didn't look bothered by that. "Come into the kitchen with me. I'll fix you a cup of coffee, and we can talk undisturbed."

"I can pour myself a cup of coffee. You've got your hands full." In spite of what Theo had told me on the phone, the apartment was neat, except for the baby stuff scattered around. And the cat toys.

"Yes." He rubbed his cheek against the baby's hair.

The aroma of hot chocolate mingled with that of coffee and filled the kitchen. I had fond memories of hot chocolate. Quinn usually made it for Christmas. It had become kind of a tradition for us.

"I worry what it's going to be like when he's a teenager."

"Who? Oh, Bear? Don't."

"Sir?"

"Worry." The cups were in the same cupboard they'd always been in, and I went to it and took a couple down. I held one up toward him, but he shook his head, so I just poured one, then filled the other with cocoa and dropped in a handful of the mini marshmallows. "We're going to make the world safe for him." I stared down at the marshmallows floating in the kid's cup. "Safe for the kid."

"I- I meant what Bear will get up to when he's a teenager."

"Oh. Sure."

"But it's nice to know they've got you on their side.

I took a swallow of the coffee and savored its richness for a moment - it was Theo's most expensive brew - then started to tell Matheson what I knew about Barbara Graham.

* * *

When we got into the car this time, the kid started talking almost as soon as he'd buckled up. "Miss Su jumped up onto my lap and let me pet her!" Miss Su was the American Bobtail Matheson had given Theo their first Christmas together. He sighed. "It must be really nice to have a pet."

"Are you okay?"

"Excuse me?"

"Eyes itchy? Nose runny or feels like you have to sneeze?"

"No."

And he wasn't coughing or scratching at his arms or chest. I nodded. Seemed like he wasn't allergic.

He'd been dazzled by the size of Theo's collection of computer games. "He's got Dragon Riders: Chronicles of Pern, and he said the next time we come over he'll play it with me! But he wouldn't even let me try Tomb Raider!" He sounded really aggrieved.

"When you get older."

"That's what he said, but I'm not a baby, you know. I've seen Lara Croft!"

I swallowed a laugh. "Are you okay with the games he let you borrow?"

"Yeah!" He'd tucked them into his backpack: Sims 2, Clue, and Super Mario Brothers. "But I still want to play Tomb Raider!"

* * *

We were halfway home when it occurred to me that I didn't have anything suitable for a kid's breakfast in my fridge. Well, I didn't have anything suitable for my breakfast.

"We'll have to make a stop."

"Okay."

"What do you like for breakfast?"

"Excuse me?"

"Jesus, are you always this polite? Breakfast? The first meal of the day? Supposedly the most important?"

"I know what breakfast is… " There was a long, considering pause before he concluded, "Sir."

What the fuck? "Yeah, so what do you like?"

I caught his shrug from the corner of my eye. "Cereal's fine." He stared out the passenger window.

"What kind?" There was one of those 24-hour pharmacies nearby, and it stocked everything from the expected health and beauty aids to toys, clothes, DC souvenirs, and, more to the point, groceries.

He shrugged again.

"Fine. I'll call it." And if he didn't like it, tough shit.

"Well, you said you were the adult." Was the little- was the kid laughing at me?

"Just don't you forget it."

* * *

The parking lot of the pharmacy was well lit, and I found a spot I was comfortable with. At that time of night, there were only a few cars there.

"Anything else you might need here? Toothpaste… " I drew a blank. What else in the way of that kind of stuff would a kid need? The guest bathroom had a bar of soap in its original wrapper at the sink, but that was all there was.

He looked up at me. "A toothbrush, comb, shampoo." He shrugged.

"Okay, I guess we'd better get a shopping cart."

* * *

Half an hour later we walked back through the sliding door into the parking lot. I was holding the plastic bags with the gallon jug of milk, the box of Honey Nut Cheerios, a bag of Snickers, a package of Chips Ahoy, and potato chips, while the kid carried the stuff he needed, as well as a jar of Peter Pan Honey Roasted Peanut Butter and a loaf of bread.

"Hold it, kid." The lights in the lot were out, and wasn't that just too fucking convenient? There were only two cars there, mine … and someone else's. The other car's doors slammed.

The kid stopped, and I could hear his bag rustle as he began to shake. "M-Mr. Vincent?"

"Shit!" I said, but not loudly enough to arouse suspicion. "Wouldn't my fucking shoelaces choose now to untie?" I put the bag with the milk down carefully and squatted down. "You still have my business card, kid?" This time I kept my voice low. Instead of tying my shoelaces, I reached into my pocket.

"N-no, sir. But I know the number by heart."

"Okay." I passed him my cell phone. "Go back inside and head for the pharmacy." It was the furthest spot from the front of the store. "Dial that number and tell them you need Perry. You see the address of this store?"

He looked over his shoulder at the front of the building, then nodded.

"Remember it, and give it to Perry. Tell him I said to bring the truck. We're going to have company."

"But they won't get here in time!"

They'd get here for the cleanup, and that's what I'd need them for. "Just do what I say."

He backed away, and I rose to my feet as three men stepped out of the darkness. In my right hand was the small knife I always carried.

"All right, boys. Let's dance."

"Look, all we want is the kid."

"You're not going to get what you want."

They glanced at each other, and I could see how nervous they were. Yeah. Amateurs.

I feinted to the right and took out the one on the left, swearing when the blade of my knife broke off in him. I tossed aside the handle as useless.

The middle one rushed me, and I flipped him, brought my foot down on his knee, and broke it. A thin, breathless shriek passed his lips.

Something whizzed by my ear, and I ducked and spun to face the last threat. Before I could take a step toward him, he grunted, his feet flew out from under him, and he landed heavily on his back. Nearby a jar of peanut butter rocked and came to a stop.

"I- I couldn't help Ma," the kid was suddenly at my side, "but I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

"Uh… thanks." Quinn was the only one who'd ever felt that way. "You've got a good arm. I suppose it's too much to hope you made that phone call?"

* * *

Perry watched as the three men were loaded into the truck, two of them moaning, but the third, the one beaned by the kid, was still out cold.

I felt a niggle of pride.

"It's a pleasure, as always, Vincent. We'll get what we can out of them, but from what The Boss told me, it might not be much."

"Want my help?"

"Not tonight." He nodded toward the kid. His men had gotten the lights of the lot back on, and even though they were dim, I could see how pale the kid was.

"Keep me in the loop."

"Of course." We shook hands and he got in the truck.

"C'mon, kid."

He bent down to retrieve the peanut butter, then paused and picked something up.

"What've you got?"

He held it out. It was what was left of my pocket knife.

"Wait till we get home, then chuck it."

"It's a pretty handle."

"It's broken. Now get in the car and let's get out of here before someone else decides he wants to snatch you."

* * *

"The kitchen's through that door. Put the milk in the fridge, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

If the kid got any more polite, I thought I'd vomit.

I had just finished locking the door when a sound from the living room had me pulling and cocking my Glock.

"You're a little jumpy, Mark."

"Quinn?"

He came to me, his mouth raised for a kiss. I backed away, and he raised an eyebrow.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Oh, that came out really well. "I mean, I thought you were supposed to be at your mother's."

"And I was." He grinned, his expression relaxed. Thank god he wasn't the kind of man who would jump to the conclusion that I was getting tired of him. "We had a very nice dinner, which would have been even nicer if you'd been there. Gregor sends his regards, by the way- "

"I bet."

He stifled his laughter. "And now I'm here."

The kid hovered in the kitchen doorway, catching Quinn's attention, and I scowled. I'd wanted to ease into this topic with my lover.

Quinn glanced at me, then smiled at the kid. "Well, hello, young man. Who are you?"

I chewed my lip. And what was up with that? I was fucking Director of Interior Affairs. What the fuck was I nervous about?


The kid shot me a look, then faced Quinn. "Joe Wells."

"Wells? Mark, that's- "

"Don't say it."

"I was going to say quite a coincidence."

"Oh. Yeah, it is, isn't it?"

"I love when you smile like that," he murmured, and for a second I couldn't catch my breath. "Now tell me, what's going on?"

I hunched a shoulder. "This is my kid."

"I... see."

I leaned closer so the kid couldn't hear me. "Is this going to make any difference about how you feel about me?"

"Did you really think it would?" The corner of his mouth curled in a grin.

"Oh, what? You're going to tell me you always wanted to make love to a dad?" I didn't want to let him know how relieved I was at the way he was taking this. If he'd turned up with a ten-year-old kid in tow - Quinn's kid -

I'd fucking welcome him into the family.

"Truthfully? As long as you're the dad, yes, I would." He turned to the kid. "I'm Quinton Mann. It's nice to meet you, Joe."

"That's not my real name, you know."

"I imagined not."

"It's… it's Elwyn Graham."

"Elwyn- " The expression on Quinn's face became thoughtful.

"I hate that name; it's a f- "

"Don't say it, kid!"

"I was going to say funky."

"Okay, sorry."

"I've never used it. That's how we were able to stay a couple of jumps ahead of them after they started coming after us."

"Them?" Quinn's eyebrow rose, and he sent me a look.

"Barbara Graham and her goons." As succinctly as possible, I explained what I knew to that point, concluding with what had happened in the Walgreens' parking lot.

"Ah. So Barbara Graham is his biological mother? I thought that 'Elwyn' rang a bell. "

"You're familiar with the name?"

"When it's tied in with her? I'm afraid so. She's bad news, Mark."

"No surprise there." Okay, we'd talk about this, but not in front of the kid. "C'mon. I'll show you your room."

"Thanks, Mr. Wells. Um… Mr. Vincent... Um- "


"Jesus, call me Mark, kid."

"Mark, you're his father," Quinn whispered in my ear.

"So?"

"Given what he's gone through, I'm assuming he's never had a father figure in his life. Give him that."

Okay, I could do this. "Dad is fine, kid." Quinn frowned at me. "Joe."

The kid - Joe- gave me a brilliant smile.

"She made you wear fake teeth too, didn't she?"

Joe ducked his head and watched me through his lashes. "Yes."

Smart, smart woman. "Your room is over this way."

The three of us trooped through the living room and down the corridor to the guest wing.

"This is my study here." I opened the door and let him look inside. "You don't go in here unless I'm around. I'm not kidding. There's stuff in there that can kill you."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll have to re-rig your front door, Mark."

Shit. "Yeah, I will. It's too late tonight. I'll take care of it in the morning. Now, this will be your room."

The kid looked around at the spare bedroom with huge eyes. "This is for me?"

"Yeah." I'd swapped out all the pink Delilah Carson had favored in this room for shades of blue, and Theo had had a blast decorating it. A 15 inch flat screen TV was in the armoire, and a small desk in the sitting area joined an armchair with a matching ottoman. On the blue-gray walls were a series of western prints by Frederic Remington that Portia had picked out for me for this room.

"It's as big as our last apartment! And the bed!" He ran a hand over the navy blue comforter. "My whole class could sleep here!"

"Not quite."

He flashed a grin at me. "That was hyperbole, Dad."

"Intelligent child, Mark."

"Yeah."

"If you don't like the colors, Joe, we can have the room repainted, and you can pick out matching linens." Quinn was getting into this whole-heartedly. It was kind of cute.

"And there's a fireplace!"

"It's gas. If you get cold and want to turn it on, just flip the switch." I showed him where it was. "Think you'll be comfortable here?"

"Yes." He took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. It sounded as if he'd abruptly lost his enthusiasm, but I didn't take it personally. It had been a sucky day for him.

"Get unpacked, then. I'll hook up your laptop in the morning."

"I could do it."

"No, it can wait." I thought about the picture he'd drawn when he was eight. Yeah, I guessed he'd know how to do that.

"Okay." He put the computer games beside it on the desk and set about taking his few belongings from the backpack. He left the pair of sweatpants on the bed; he'd told me he never wore pajamas - because if they'd had to leave in the night, sweats would be less noticeable than pajamas? He found a drawer for everything else.

A single drawer. It was fucking sad.

"Get me get a pair of scissors, Mark, and I'll remove the tags off these clothes." Quinn took the jeans and shirts out of their bags.

"There's one in the desk drawer."

"Nice choices." He found the scissors and began cutting off tags and pulling out pins. A small stack grew on the desk.

"Joe picked them out." I took his underwear out of their plastic wrappers and watched as my son wandered around the room, touching the furniture, the television, the mantle with tentative fingers. "Your bathroom is right through that door."

"I get my own bathroom?"

"Yeah."

He went to investigate.

"Wow! This is huge!"

"It takes so little," Quinn murmured. He put the jeans and shirts away, then picked up the jacket and hung it in the closet.

"Yeah. When I get my hands on that Graham bitch- " I bit off the rest of my words. I liked Quinn to at least think I was civilized. "I'm gonna put away the rest of the groceries."

"Not necessary, Mark. I had Gregor restock your fridge and pantry. I started to tell you earlier, but you distracted me."

"Well, sh- " Joe had rejoined us. "- shoot. We could have skipped all the excitement at Walgreens."

Quinn smiled, but there was a worry line between his brows. I hated that I'd put it there.

"Hey, you know I get cranky if I don't have my daily allotment of violence."

"He stuck one of the bad guys with a knife and broke off the blade! See!" Joe held out the broken handle.

"Mark, that's the knife your uncle gave you!"

I shrugged. "Go get your toothbrush and stuff." The bags had been left in the foyer.

"Yes, sir." He rushed out of the room.

"Mark- "

I could see Quinn wasn't going to let it go. "It's not a big deal. It was an old knife."

He opened his mouth, and I squared off to face him. After a moment he nodded. "All right. I'll let it go. But I won't let this go."

"What- "

He pulled my head down, ran his lips over mine, and then slid his tongue into my mouth.

And just like that I was rock hard. I could taste a hint of the brandy he'd had with the coffee Portia had served at her home, but more than that, I could taste him. I groaned and sucked on his tongue, wild to have him after our time apart.

"Soon, baby. Soon." His hand on my hair gentled me, and when he stepped back, I let him go.

He was tidying the desk and I was stuffing the empty bags into the largest bag when Joe came back in.

"I'll just go put this away." Joe held up the bag with the stuff I'd bought him in the pharmacy.

"Do you want a glass of milk?"

He paused in the doorway to the bathroom. "No, thank you."

"Okay, after you brush your teeth, get ready for bed. Are you going to have trouble falling asleep?"

"No. Why would you think- "

"That nap you had this afternoon?"

He shrugged. "I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Ma… " His breath hitched. "She always said so." He fiddled with his sweatpants. "Um… Dad? Where's your room? Ma was always pretty close and- "

"It's on the other side of the condo. That gonna be a problem?"

"No, sir. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Joe." Quinn ran a gentle hand over my son's hair. "If you need us, don't hesitate to come get us."

"'Us'?" His expression was indecipherable.

"Yeah," I told him. "There are two bedrooms in this condo, so Uncle Quinn shares mine."

"I see. That's kind of you, but it won't be necessary: I'm very self-reliant." He seemed more concerned that I understand his self-reliance than with the significance of my statement. Had it gone over his head? He became engrossed in his sweatpants, "Um… may I leave a light on?"

"Sure. The bedside lamp has a three-way switch. Goodnight, Joe."

"Goodnight… Dad."

I worried my lower lip as we left the room. I knew more ways to kill a man than I could shake a stick at, but what I knew about kids and the raising thereof could fit in a thimble with room to spare.

"Penny for them, Mark."

"Huh?" We walked into the front foyer, where the bags of groceries had been left. They weren't there. Joe must have brought them to the kitchen. I changed direction, Quinn beside me, and sure enough, there they were on the counter. Considerate kid.

"Your thoughts."

"The groceries, Quinn." I nodded toward the bags. I needed more time to consider this situation before I made any decisions. "Help me put this stuff away. I want you in bed like yesterday!"

* * *

I was buried deep inside him, so deep I was scorched by his heat.

"I missed you!" he panted. His heels locked around my hips, he arched up onto my cock. "I missed you so much!"

Even though it had only been a few days, it had still been too long.

"Maybe… " I panted as I drove into him harder. "… maybe it's time we talked about moving in together."

"Mark!" His climax took us both by surprise. He shivered in my arms, and his semen coated his chest and my stomach.

The clenching of his internal muscles was all it took to set me off as well, and I came sooner than I'd intended.

He whispered passionate words in French, and I just held him and basked in them.

Finally he unhooked his ankles and groaned as he lowered his legs and I slipped out of him.

"Getting too old for this, baby?"

"That'll be the day!"

We grinned at each other. God, I loved him. I dipped my head and took his lips in a kiss that was unexpectedly tender.

"I love you too, Mark," he murmured against my lips.

Oh, my god, had I said that out loud?

"You did, babe."

I ducked my head and laughed against his neck.

"Mark? What are you going to do about him" He was stroking the long muscles of my back, kneading the tension out of my shoulders. "No child should have to be that self-reliant."

"Nothing wrong with a little self-reliance."

"I think he has more than a little. And at his age- What are you going to do?"

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

"You're going to keep him."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"I knew it!" There was satisfaction in his voice.

"Don't be so smug about reading me right. You're going to be involved in this too, you know."

"Ah. 'Uncle Quinn?'"

"I called all my old lady's men 'uncle.' Does it bother you?"

"Perhaps."

What the fuck?

"Am I one of your men?"

"No. You're my only man."

"I'm glad. And in that case it doesn't bother me in the least." He kissed the hinge of my jaw. "Now why don't you go check on him?"

"He's probably asleep."

"It doesn't matter."

I sighed and rolled off him, reaching for my shorts.

The condo was dark, but I had no trouble finding my way to the guest wing without stubbing my toe on any wayward furniture. For one thing, no furniture in my place would dare to be wayward.

And for another, a thread of light from the far end of the condo lit the way.

Joe's door was ajar.

I stood to the side and pushed it open. The bed was empty.

"Joe?" I took a step into the room.

"Dad!" The closet door burst open and he barreled out, the tattered teddy bear clutched to his chest.

I dropped down to one knee and caught him. "What's wrong?"

"I had a bad dream… " He buried his head under my chin. "She - that woman - got in and was trying to… trying to- "

"Look at me."

Reluctantly he raised his head. The skin around his eyes looked bruised, and I ground my teeth.

"You saw what I did to those men who tried to take you, right?"

"Yes."

"I didn't let them take you, did I?"

"No."

"Okay. I'm not going to let that bitch take you either."

"I'm such a baby."

"Why? Because you were scared? Only a fool doesn't feel fear."

"I… I had to sleep with my teddy bear." He looked dejected. Did he think I thought less of him because he needed someone- something to hold onto during the night?

I almost wished Barbara Graham had put in an appearance so I could take her apart, piece by plastic surgeried piece.

"Listen, kid. You're ten years old. It's okay for you to sleep with your teddy bear."

"It is?"

Jesus. "If you're still doing it when you're thirty, then we'll worry about it."

"Okay."

"Tomorrow I'll introduce you to Sam." Right now the statue of the big dog that Quinn had given me to replace the one pulverized when my apartment had been blown up was in a corner of my bedroom.

Maybe I'd transfer it to this room.

"Do you need anything, glass of water, trip to the bathroom?"

"No. Ma used to tell me stories sometimes." His expression was wistful, and all I could think to do was pat his shoulder. My old lady had usually been too bombed to string together a coherent sentence.

"Get settled in bed." I could do this. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Okay. I'm going to tell you a story." I propped a pillow against the headboard and sat down next to him. " There was a man who decided that living in the city was too dangerous, so he moved his wife and little girl to an estate whose backyard was the Hudson River… "

* * *

I woke abruptly, reaching for the Glock I kept under my pillow.

It wasn't there, not only because I wasn't sleeping in my own bed, not only because even if it had been my bed, I'd removed the pistol when it had clocked my lover in the head one time too many, but because it was Quinn who'd woken me, even though that hadn't been his intention.

He was covering me with a blanket.

"No, stay there," he said when he saw I was about to get up. "Joe needs you tonight."

"I can carry him back to our bed."

"Our bed?"

"Jesus, Quinn. We've been together for three years. It had better be our bed."

"If you say so, Mark."

"Ass. Get the teddy bear, okay?"

"Of course."

"And turn out the light, wouldja?" I grinned at him. If I'd had a free hand, I would have pinched his ass. "

We went back to our bedroom and got settled in for what was left of the night.

I glanced over at him, and our eyes met across my son.

Yeah. In the morning I'd talk to him about moving in with me.

~End~