Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [80]
He leaned over to kiss her, lingering not because he was avoiding the answer to her question, but simply because kissing her had become as necessary to him as breathing. When he finally, and very reluctantly, ended the kiss, he had to fight an overwhelming urge to yank his clothes off and crawl back under the covers with her—and that sleepy, sensual expression in her eyes didn't do much to shore up his willpower.
Quinn cleared his throat, but his voice emerged hoarsely even then. “Why, you told me something only a handful of people know, sweet. You told me that Max is planning to break up his collection—and donate it to various museums—even before the exhibit is officially ended.”
She was startled for a moment, but then nodded slowly. “I see. Once the collection is scattered all over the country—even the world—he wouldn't have much hope of getting his hands on many of the pieces.”
“Exactly. With a little luck, the news will at least give him something to think about. And, if I'm reading him right, it might just cause him to move a bit faster than he planned.”
Morgan nodded again, but then bit her bottom lip as she gazed at him. “Alex, be careful. Nightshade moving faster sounds like a deadly proposition.”
He kissed her again, managing to keep it light this time. “Don't worry, sweetheart, I can take care of myself. Besides that, I told you I always land on my feet.”
Quinn didn't want to leave her, but at the same time he was anxious to confront the man known as Nightshade and divert his attention from Morgan; she wouldn't be safe until those greedy eyes were fixed once more on the Bannister collection.
It was that thought that enabled him to get up off the bed and turn away, but he had to pause in the doorway of the bedroom and look back at her. Unable to help himself, he said, “I'll be looking for a place to rest my weary head around dawn. Do you have any suggestions?”
She smiled slowly, and that luminous truth was in her eyes. “I believe the lock on the front door is easy to pick. And then there's the window; you didn't have any trouble with it either. It's your choice. I'll be here.”
Given that enticement, Quinn knew he wouldn't have any trouble getting back here. With Morgan waiting for him, the only question was whether he could endure the long hours until dawn.
“Any problems?” Quinn asked Jared lightly when he joined him just a few minutes after midnight.
“None that I saw.”
Since they had to assume that Nightshade had spotted the earlier vantage point, Jared and Quinn had agreed—in a brief phone conversation much earlier in the day—to move to a new position and another building. So they met now in a fourth-floor office overlooking the museum, one of several currently unoccupied spaces they had rented before the exhibit opened.
Keeping his voice casual in what he knew was a vain attempt to avoid a confrontation with Jared, Quinn said, “Okay, then. You'd better go get some sleep while you can.”
“Not so fast.” Jared perched on a huge old slate-topped desk that had been left in the office by the previous occupants, the position indicating that he wasn't going anywhere for the moment. The room was very dim, but there was enough light to make his expression obvious. Grim.
Quinn leaned against the window frame and peered through venetian blinds at the museum across the street. Well lighted on all sides, the building appeared utterly peaceful. No help there, he thought ruefully, almost wishing for a few armed thugs to storm the place.
“Alex.”
“Yeah?” He looked at his brother, still casual.
“I backed you in this from the beginning.” Jared's voice was very deliberate. “I bent some laws and broke quite a few rules, because I knew what it meant to you to put Nightshade behind bars. So far, I don't regret that.”
“I'm glad,” Quinn murmured.
“Wait. I let you lie to Max; I didn't like it, but your reasons made sense. I let you lie to Wolfe, even