Always a Thief Read Online Free PDF Page A

he never breaks a promise.”
    “That's what I keep telling myself.”
    “You think he'd run if he got the chance?”
    “Not before we catch Nightshade. It's personal for him.”
    “How—”
    “Don't ask; I don't know the details. I only know that Quinn wants Nightshade. Badly.”
    “Umm. Well, in the meantime, I can see how Interpol might be a bit upset with you if they find out exactly what's going on over on this side of the pond. And I imagine Lloyd's of London wouldn't be very pleased if they knew about the trap either, since they insure the collection. And Wolfe is definitely risking his job with them. I guess I'm most surprised at Max being willing to take the risk. It took his family five centuries to build the collection, and every piece is irreplaceable.”
    “Don't remind me. I think it's a lunatic idea and I have from the beginning.”
    “Then it wasn't your idea. Why did you agree
to it?”
    “Max agreed. Once he did, there was nothing I could do about it except go along.”
    Storm couldn't help but smile. “Sounds like you've got a pit bull at the other end of that leash. It was Quinn's idea, wasn't it? His plan?”
    Jared nodded, and hesitated for an instant before saying, “If it had been anybody but Nightshade, I never would have even allowed Quinn to approach Max. But to stop a thief and murderer like Nightshade, almost any risk can be justified.”
    “Even your brother's life?”
    Jared's face tightened slightly, but he replied in a steady voice. “He's been risking his life for ten years or more. The only thing that's changed is the reason why.”
    “Has he ever been shot before?”
    “No. He says not. Injured a few times and beaten up more than once, but never shot.”
    “So that's changed. And one more thing has changed, Jared.”
    He waited, silent.
    “This time, Quinn's on a leash. Something a man accustomed to total freedom might well find to be a problem. A deadly problem.”
    “Yes,” Jared said. “I know.”
     
    “The doctor said you have to take the pills. They'll help prevent infection.”
    “Not with milk,” Quinn said firmly, frowning up at her. “I hate milk, Morgana.”
    She sighed, faced with the first real mutiny from her patient after slightly more than twenty-four hours of tranquillity. He had slept most of that time, waking only briefly every few hours and accepting without protest the broth she had spooned into him. He had watched her steadily, his green eyes quiet, thanked her gravely for any service she performed for him, and was otherwise a model patient. Until now, anyway.
    Given his personality as she knew it, she hadn't expected the placidity to last, of course, but she had hoped for at least a couple of days before he began to get restless.
    “All right, no milk,” she said agreeably. “But you have to take the pills. How about juice?”
    “How about coffee?”
    “The last thing you need is caffeine.”
    “Coffee,” he repeated, softly but stubbornly.
    Morgan debated silently, then decided it wasn't worth a fight. It was more important that he take the pills—no matter what he washed them down with. Besides, she was almost sure she had a can of decaffeinated. “All right, coffee. It'll be a few minutes, though; I have to make some.”
    He nodded, those absurdly long lashes veiling his eyes so she couldn't tell if he was gloating over her capitulation. She retreated from the bedroom with the unwanted milk, vaguely suspicious although she didn't know why.
    Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the bedroom to find the covers thrown back and the bed empty and realized she must have read his intentions subconsciously if not consciously. His minor rebellion was escalating. The bathroom door was closed, and there was water running in the sink.
    She set the cup of coffee on the nightstand, went to the door, and knocked courteously. “Alex, what are you doing in there?”
    “It's not polite to ask that, Morgana,” he reproved in a muffled but amused