Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [93]
“How long will that be?” It was Max who asked now.
Quinn sighed. “If you want to know whether I intend to return to thieving, the answer is no. Been there, done that.”
“And earned the infamous reputation as a master thief,” Storm murmured.
“Exactly,” Quinn said. “I have nothing to prove. And, truth to tell, I enjoyed these last months.”
“Even getting shot?” Wolfe demanded.
“Alex!” Elizabeth scolded, for all the world as if a small son had come home with a black eye.
Her youngest, though far from small, looked a bit sheepish, contritely accepting the blame for having gotten himself shot. “Sorry, Mother,” he murmured.
“It could continue to be an occupational hazard,” Max pointed out. “Getting shot at. A dangerous life, Alex.”
“Maybe. But a life I enjoy, Max. A life I'm good at.”
Morgan very deliberately didn't enter the discussion, her gaze moving among the brothers as they talked about the future of Alex—and Quinn.
“You broke the law,” Wolfe said.
“And now I'm being punished.”
“Punished, hell. You're enjoying yourself too much to call it punishment.”
“All right, then say I'm working to redeem myself.”
“And all the loot you stole over the years?”
“What about it?”
“Goddammit, Alex, you know what about it.”
“You surely don't expect me to give it back?” Quinn shook his head, smiling faintly. “Even Interpol didn't expect that.”
“Well, we tried,” Jared said.
Max lifted a brow at him. “And?”
“And . . . it was decided that his willing cooperation was worth more than reclaiming whatever valuables it was even possible to track down after all these years.”
“I never hoarded,” Quinn explained. “Unlike Leo Cassady, it was never about having a vault somewhere stuffed with pretties only I could look upon. It was never about the money.”
“What was it about?” Max asked.
Quinn flicked a glance at Morgan but answered readily. “The thrill, I suppose. Pitting my skills and smarts against the best security systems in existence.”
“Which he can still do,” Jared murmured. “In a manner of speaking.”
“It's certainly a far better life than one inside a prison cell,” Quinn said. “And I'm willing.”
Max looked at Jared. “Can you control him?”
“God knows. But I'm willing too. To try.”
Wolfe sighed explosively. “Am I the only one who's still hung up over the idea that Alex broke the law? Repeatedly?”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “Get over it.”
Max said, “Nobody's happy about that, Wolfe. But it was Interpol's decision, and they made it. I'm sure even you would rather see Alex working to help them rather than the alternative.”
“If you think I'm buying this whole redemption thing, think again.” Staring at Quinn, Wolfe said, “The next time I catch you with your hand in a safe, I won't stop to ask if you're still playing on Interpol's team. Got it?”
“Got it.” Quinn paused, then grinned. “Assuming you ever do catch me again.”
Since they were all still up at dawn, it was tacitly decided that they might as well remain up. They did go home for showers and fresh clothing, to say nothing of breakfast, but by eight-thirty they were back at the museum.
Morgan had continued to deliberately avoid any discussion of the future—Quinn's or theirs—and he hadn't said anything about that beyond what was said in the discussion with his brothers. She didn't know if he would stay or go. She thought he wanted to stay, at least for a while, which was probably as much of a commitment as Quinn could make.
She didn't know if that would be enough for her, honestly didn't know. She knew she wasn't looking for an ivy-covered cottage with a white picket fence and happily-ever-after, at least not right now.
But she hadn't been looking for a fling either.
Clearly, her relationship with Quinn fell somewhere in between.
In the meantime, she tried not to think too much about it. She'd burned her bridges, and whatever was meant to happen would. She'd deal with it.
“So even with Nightshade safely out of action,” she said as she stood near the guards' station with Storm, Quinn, and Wolfe, watching the first of the day's visitors beginning