Always a Thief Part 18

She looked up at him, knowing that he felt her instant's hesitation, that he understood the reason behind it. Just the way he would understand if she stopped this here and now.

Her arms slid up around his neck and she pressed her body against his. "What are you waiting for?" she murmured.

"You. I've always been waiting for you." His arms tightened around her, and when his mouth touched hers again the moment for stopping vanished as though it had never been.

Morgan made a soft, disgruntled sound when he jostled her a bit while he was getting them under the covers, but she didn't open her eyes even when he chuckled. She felt utterly limp and sated, and when he pulled her close to his side again once they were both under the covers, she pillowed her head on his shoulder with a sigh of pure bliss.

"Morgana?"

"Hmm?"

"Am I forgiven?"

She still didn't want to open her eyes, but she was very much awake even though dawn wasn't too far off. After a moment, she said, "Don't spread the word around, but I can't stay mad at you no matter what you do."

His arm tightened around her, and one hand began smoothing her long hair. "I know you aren't still mad-but am I forgiven?"

Morgan lifted her head then and looked down at him. He was serious, she realized. She pushed herself up on one elbow to see him better, and answered seriously. "You're forgiven. But don't ever do that to me again, Alex. I think I can stand being lied to easier than being manipulated."

He was still toying with her hair, and a slight frown drew his brows together. Softly, he said, "I don't want to lie to you."

"No-but you aren't ready to tell me the whole truth." She gave him a rueful smile.

"I have my reasons, sweetheart. I think they're good reasons. Can you accept that?"

She hesitated. "I want to. But it's driving me crazy wondering how many lies you've told me. Can you at least promise that you'll tell me the truth eventually?"

Quinn nodded immediately. "Once the trap is sprung, I swear I'll tell you everything."

"Then I'll accept that." She kept her voice light. "Just . . . don't lie about this, all right? About us. I don't want any bedroom promises, Alex."

His hand slid to the nape of her neck, and he pulled her down far enough to kiss her slowly. Against her mouth, he murmured, "No bedroom promises."

Morgan had thought herself exhausted, but as his warm mouth moved against hers, she felt a surge of energy-and desire. Quinn seemed equally refreshed; his kisses deepened into hunger, and then he was pressing her back against the pillows and pus.h.i.+ng the covers back so he could see her.

For a moment-even after all that had gone before-Morgan felt a little shy. The way he was looking at her, so direct and intent, was a bit unnerving. But then he leaned down to press a soft kiss on her stomach, then another and another in a slow trail up between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and his low words added a sensual vibration and another kind of seduction to the caresses.

"No bedroom promises-just the truth. Have you any idea what you do to me? What you've been doing to me since the night I reached out and caught you? There hasn't been a day you haven't been on my mind, and the nights . . . the nights. The nights never seemed long before, but now they do, long and cold."

"Even this night?" she asked huskily.

"No." He lifted his head and looked down at her with darkening eyes. "Not this night."

Morgan had had no idea that she was even capable of such a swift and total response, but she soared toward the brink so quickly it was like yielding to an elemental force. He was inside her, filling her, and her newly awakened body was electrified by the sensations.

"You're beautiful," he said huskily, his eyes narrowed on her taut face. "Especially like this, so alive, wanting me."

She couldn't have said anything to that if her life had depended on it. The coiling tension inside her held her in a blissful state of pleasure so acute it bordered on pain, and she couldn't even catch her breath enough to moan.

Quinn's eyes narrowed even more as he slowly, torturously began to move, subtle undulations becoming deep, lazy thrusts, and Morgan couldn't bear it another second. It felt as if every nerve ending she possessed throbbed in rhythmic surges of pleasure, and her wild cry was caught in his mouth as he kissed her fiercely.

He followed her over the brink, his powerful body shuddering and a hoa.r.s.e sound wrenched from him, and this time, sated and utterly drained, they both slept.

The sky was just beginning to lighten toward gray when Quinn slipped from the bed, careful not to wake Morgan, and went to gaze out the bedroom window. As Morgan had noted, he was accustomed to working nights, and it had reached a point where he found it difficult to sleep when it was dark.

If this kept up much longer, he reflected wryly, he really would would turn into a vampire. turn into a vampire.

He stood there at the window, looking out on the quiet street in front of this apartment building, acutely aware of the soft breathing of the woman in the bed behind him. How to keep her safe? That was his greatest worry now. He had tried not to let her see how shaken he'd been over what happened on the fire escape, but the truth was that every time he thought of the danger she'd been in it was like a knife in his heart.

Had it been Nightshade? Or someone else? it been Nightshade? Or someone else?

Who had been the real target tonight, him-or Morgan?

That was the question he couldn't answer, whether Morgan's attacker had grabbed her only because she'd been in the way or because she had been the real target all along. That was the question that left him cold. Because if she had been the target, he could think of only two reasons why: Someone wanted to get their hands on the director of the Mysteries Mysteries Past Past exhibit, or someone knew or had guessed how important she was to a thief named Quinn. exhibit, or someone knew or had guessed how important she was to a thief named Quinn.

And now what? He was running out of time, dammit, he could feel it. After tonight, he was going to be walking a high wire without a net, and he wasn't sure he could maintain his balance. Not now. Not anymore.

He was no longer on that high wire alone.

"Alex?"

He turned immediately, crossing the dim room to return to the bed. Sliding under the covers, he pulled her into his arms and held her without force, fighting the instincts urging him to hold her with all his strength. "Sorry I woke you," he murmured.

"Is something wrong?" she asked softly, her warm body pressed to his.

"No, sweetheart, nothing's wrong," he lied. "Go back to sleep."

Within minutes, he knew she had, her breath soft against his skin. Very gently, careful not to wake her, he stroked her back, enjoying the satiny feel of her skin and the radiant warmth of her body.

She loved him. That was what she'd said, and said with quiet conviction. Knowing him for a liar and a thief, she loved him. It was remarkable. She She was remarkable. was remarkable.

Staring up at the lightening ceiling of her bedroom, Quinn wondered if Morgan would love him when she knew the truth.

"I thought you weren't supposed to work weekends," Jared said as he came into the computer room.

Sipping her third cup of coffee that morning, Storm shrugged and said, "Wolfe and I are both too restless to stay home with all this going on. The exhibit, the trap, this mysterious other player in the game. We both came in hours ago."

"Where is Wolfe?"

"If he's not prowling around the exhibit, he's down in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Prowling around."

"The police searched the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Yeah, but we all know it's a huge s.p.a.ce. And since he's spent months finding all the corners and hidey-holes-even down there-he won't feel at ease until he's finished his own search."

Jared grunted and sat down in her visitor's chair.

She eyed him. "You look beat. Long night?"

"Yeah."

"I thought Alex was taking the midnight-to- dawn duty."

Jared explained briefly what had happened the night before, including the phone call from Keane.

"Morgan's all right?"

"According to Alex, yeah. At the moment, I'm more concerned by what the M.E. found in Jane Doe's body."

"Spider venom. Black widow spider venom. Have you run that little detail through NCIC?"

He nodded. "No matches. Far as the Crime Information Center is concerned, finding spider venom of any kind in an already dead murder victim isn't part of any active killer's M.O. Or any inactive killer's, for that matter."

"I guess you checked with Interpol?"

"Yeah, same results."

Storm leaned back in her chair and propped her boots on the desk. "I'm still stuck wondering why all the signposts. They've gotta be leading us somewhere, but you'd think it would be away from the museum instead of to it. I mean, there are other valuables in the city, but nothing so well protected that a thief would need to go to all this trouble to distract us from them. The Bannister collection has to be a prime target. So why keep leading us back here?"

"The question of the hour."

"We're missing something."

"Yeah, I got that feeling."

"You haven't told Wolfe about Keane's call last night, have you?"

"Keane was planning to call him first thing this morning. Probably has by now."

"Why didn't one of you call last night?"

Jared shrugged. "Didn't see any reason to disturb you two with another seemingly useless puzzle piece."

"I appreciate that." Storm smiled. "Wolfe also appreciates it."

"Wolfe wouldn't appreciate it if I handed him winning lottery numbers."

"Actually, I would," Wolfe said as he came into the room. "Nothing personal, you understand, but money is money." He closed the door behind him.

"Right," Jared murmured.

"Find anything?" Storm asked her fiance.

"Nah. Keane called. I guess Jared filled you in?"

"Just now. And there's more."

Jared told Wolfe about Morgan's ordeal the night before, and the news immediately brought a scowl to Wolfe's face.

"I don't like this," he announced.

"Morgan's all right. This time, anyway." Jared frowned. "But something Alex said last night has been bugging me. It didn't hit me until hours later. He said that maybe Nightshade had gotten suspicious of him and was watching him."

The three of them looked at one another for a moment, then Wolfe said slowly, "Which means not only that Alex knows who Nightshade is, but that Nightshade may well know that Alex Brandon and Quinn are one and the same."

"Anybody else just feel the bottom drop out of their stomach?" Storm asked.

Completely in sync for once, both Wolfe and Jared raised a hand.

The room was bright when Morgan finally opened her eyes, and for a moment or so she lay there on her stomach in the middle of the bed, her body warm beneath the covers, just blinking drowsily. She felt wonderful. Different, though. So relaxed and content she wanted to purr like a cat sprawled in the sunlight. Every inch of her skin seemed heated in a strange new way, and she had the odd notion that she could feel her heart beating throughout her entire body.

She didn't want to move, reluctant to do anything that might change the blissful sense of fulfillment she felt. But she wasn't a woman who could be still for long unless she was sleeping, and the drowsiness left her. Gradually, she focused on the clock on her nightstand. Twelve. Twelve noon.

Frowning, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, staring at the clock. Noon? She hadn't slept this late in years, why on earth would she- Then she remembered.

It all came back to her in a rush, and she twisted quickly to look around her bedroom, ignoring a few twinges from muscles protesting the sudden movement. The room was empty except for her. But . . . those clothes on the storage chest at the foot of her bed; weren't they his? Black sweater and pants, folded neatly . . . Yes, she thought they were his.

Morgan pushed herself upright and only then heard quiet music from the other side of the apartment. She didn't hear a sign of Quinn, but she was certain he was still here. She could feel his nearness, as usual. After a moment, she slid to the edge of the bed, another twinge in her ankle reminding her of last night's injury. It didn't look too bad, she decided, just a bit puffy and wearing spectacular colors; when she stood up cautiously, it held her weight with only slight pain.

When she went into the bathroom, she realized Quinn had recently taken a shower; the air was still damp, and so was a towel he had draped over the shower-curtain rod. She thought he'd probably used the electric razor she had provided for him when he'd stayed here before.

She took her own shower, letting the hot water clear her mind even as it soothed her sore body. She'd noticed a few more (faint) bruises that had resulted from her struggle on the fire escape, and between that and her unusually active night, she was definitely a little stiff.

The hot water certainly helped, so she lingered there, was.h.i.+ng her hair and smiling to herself when she remembered his fingers tangled in it. When she finally got out of the tub and wrapped her hair in a towel, she felt much better. She rummaged in the vanity cabinets underneath the sink and found a bottle of body lotion in the scent of the perfume she usually wore, and rubbed some of that into her skin. She knew it was the rubbing rather than the lotion that made her muscles feel looser and less strained-but soft, scented skin was an added benefit that any woman with a lover could easily appreciate.

Morgan wrapped a towel around herself and unwrapped her hair to begin drying it, and as her blow-dryer roared she thought about that. A lover. Was that what Quinn would be? She didn't know, she really didn't. The timing of all this, considering the circ.u.mstances, was hardly the best, and even if it had been, Quinn was not what anyone would choose to call predictable.

Or conventional. Given who and what he was, it was entirely possible that this interlude with her was no more than that-a respite in the middle of a tense situation to let him unwind and seek a purely s.e.xual release of stress.

That was a depressing possibility, she decided, but one she had to consider at least logical and perhaps likely. He was, after all, an unusually handsome and charming man somewhere in his thirties-and though the mysterious Quinn might not have wished to risk possible exposure of his ident.i.ty with a s.e.x life, his daytime persona of Alex had undoubtedly enjoyed the company of eager females over the years. The evidence of that was clear; he'd been a skilled and sensitive lover, and that required both experience and a thorough knowledge of a woman's body and what would please her. was a depressing possibility, she decided, but one she had to consider at least logical and perhaps likely. He was, after all, an unusually handsome and charming man somewhere in his thirties-and though the mysterious Quinn might not have wished to risk possible exposure of his ident.i.ty with a s.e.x life, his daytime persona of Alex had undoubtedly enjoyed the company of eager females over the years. The evidence of that was clear; he'd been a skilled and sensitive lover, and that required both experience and a thorough knowledge of a woman's body and what would please her.

Morgan was hardly shocked by these realizations. In fact, she wasn't particularly surprised by them. She was a rational woman, and she'd had weeks since meeting Quinn to consider the matter. She had, in fact, thought about him and what involvement with him might mean to the point that she was reasonably sure she had considered every possibility.

Not that it helped, really. It might have been possible in the last weeks to detach her emotions enough to contemplate the possible consequences of taking a very famous and very enigmatic cat burglar into her bed, but once it had happened, her detachment was gone. Only emotions were left, and all those told her was what she felt felt.

She loved him. Beyond reason or rationality, beyond common sense or consequences, she loved him.

And that was what she had to endure, no matter what the future brought.

By the time her hair was dry, Morgan had more or less decided to play this new turn in their relations.h.i.+p by ear. What other choice did she have? Her life was clearly defined and spread out before him; there were no mysteries, no hidden facts, no false names-no lies. Who and what she was were obvious to him. Who and what he he was, on the other hand, were still somewhat nebulous. The only thing she knew for certain was that what he was doing was dangerous. was, on the other hand, were still somewhat nebulous. The only thing she knew for certain was that what he was doing was dangerous.