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Andy blinked. “You mean the National Clandestine Service?The CIA?”

Quinn’s mouth quirked. “That’s the one.”

“You’re kidding.”

But no, Quinn clearly wasnotkidding, and really, Andy had kind of suspected something like this. The first hint had come with Quinn’s easy acceptance of the strange happenings at Time in a Bottle. The second hint had lain in the calm, confident ruthlessness of how Quinn had dealt with Marcus. No, actually; the decision to stake out Time in a Bottle, to break into the shop in order to thwart whatever the hell was going to happen, all of it together had indicated an unorthodox but experiencedapproach to problem solving. But the third and probably most conclusive hint had been Quinn’s casual suggestion that Marcus could havean unfortunate accident.

So, yeah, not a complete surprise, but still pretty damned extraordinary.

Andy latched on to the one bit of information Quinn offered that he could make sense of. “What kind of degree did you get?”

“Political Science.” Quinn grinned. “With a minor in Russian Studies.”

“Jesus.”

“I know. You probably figured Phys Ed teacher.”

Andy said flatly, “I didn’t figure anything.”

Quinn stopped smiling. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Had I stayed, you’d probably have ended up guessing right. I’d have killed him, or he’d have killed me.”

Yes. That was the truth. Quinn disappearing the way he had had probably saved his life.

“I’m glad you got out. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Sure, Andy was struggling to realign his understanding of the past. Quinn’s “death” had shaped his life in a number of ways, including how he had romanticized, maybe fantasized how important that relationship had been to both of them. More accurately, how important it had been to Quinn. It was jarring, even painful, to recognize that one of—maybe the most—important relationship in his life had not meant the same to Quinn.

The thing that bothered him the most was that he evencaredabout something so trivial. In the greater scheme of things, his caring more for Quinn than Quinn had cared for him was so stupid and juvenile.

Quinn had managed to escape a truly terrible situation. He had not only survived, he had thrived. There was nothing tofeel about that but relief and gladness. Andy wasdeterminedto feel nothing more and nothing less.

He gave Quinn’s now-warm hands a squeeze and freed himself. “Are you and Jim still…together?”

Something dark and shadowy flickered behind Quinn’s green eyes. “Jim died ten years ago in a car bombing in Syria.”

“Jesus, Quinn. I’m so sorry.”

Quinn shrugged. “That’s the game.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a game.”

“No. But it’s easier if you don’t take it personally.”

What was the correct reply to that? Andy had no clue. He said again, “I’m sorry. I can see you cared a lot for him.”

“I did. He was my mentor, my friend, my lover… Hell, in some ways he was the father I never had. But he liked working in the field. And he preferred the hottest of the hot spots. So we always knew we were on borrowed time.”

Andy couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. Unbearable, is what it would be. But then he’d never pretended he was secret-agent material.

Quinn said quietly, “I guess some things never change. This is more than I meant to tell you.”

No doubt.

“I’m glad you did. I was pretty confused.”

He was still pretty confused, really. It had been a very long, very taxing seventy-two hours, and between the sleep deficit and the hot buttered rum—not to mention all the other drinks at dinner—he had the curious sensation of observing himself from the outside, like he was watching a movie, like this had all happened to someone else a long time ago.

“Yeah, of course. If I’d realized—” Quinn hesitated. “The truth is, once I was in that world…looking backward is a luxury you really don’t have.”