Part 19 (2/2)
Quinn hesitated, then sighed. ”Actually, it's more like a sting. I knew that Nightshade would be at least a little reluctant to go after the Bannister collection on his own, no matter how badly he wants it.”
”Why?”
”For one thing, he isn't technically adept. At least not at the level required to breach a cutting-edge security system.”
Morgan was beginning to feel a little queasy. ”Which you knew going in.”
”Yes.”
”Alex, are you telling me that you-that Nightshade needs a partner in order to go after the Bannister collection? And that you're it?”
”Yes.”
Morgan put her elbows on her knees and covered her face with both hands.
Quinn cleared his throat. ”Needless to say, the others don't know about that part. Not even Jared.”
”Oh, needless to say,”she mumbled through her fingers. She dropped her hands and stared at him. ”Because if they did did know, they'd kill you.” know, they'd kill you.”
”That was why I didn't tell them.”
”Jesus, Alex.”
”Morgana, it'll work. It's already working. It's well known that state-of-the-art electronic security systems are favorites of mine. My specialty, as it were. Nightshade might be able to get inside the museum-but not inside the exhibit. Not without me and the knowledge and skills I can provide. I've spent quite a bit of time and considerable effort convincing him of that fact.”
Morgan tried to keep her mind on the logistics of the situation and off her anxiety. ”Okay. But why couldn't Quinn go after the collection alone? I mean, why would Quinn need Nightshade?”
”Several reasons,” he answered willingly enough. ”As you pointed out yourself, the States are . . . unfamiliar ground to Quinn. Even a thief who apparently acts alone has to have contacts: inside sources or informants with reliable information, trustworthy people to provide supplies and equipment, some quick and safe means of transportation once the job is done. All my contacts are in Europe-and I'd have a h.e.l.l of a time transporting the collection back there. But I came here anyway because, as you say, the Bannister collection is irresistible.
”So . . . when I stumble across another thief while casing the museum, I make it a point to follow him until I know who he is. He's naturally upset that I was able to find him, but I make it clear I don't particularly care who he is and that I have no intention of either exposing him or horning in on his territory. No, I'm going to go back to Europe-but I want very badly to take one piece of the Bannister collection with me.”
”The Bolling?” she guessed.
Quinn smiled slightly. ”Are you kidding? That b.l.o.o.d.y thing's got a curse on it. Every time it's been stolen in its long and colorful history, it's brought disaster to the thief.”
Startled, she said, ”I didn't know that was the curse.”
”Oh, yes, and it's well doc.u.mented. The diamond came into the hands of the Bannisters somewhere around 1500-legitimately. A gentleman named Edward Bannister found the uncut and unpolished stone lying in a streambed in India. Just lying right out in the open.”
”Talk about luck,” Morgan said, perfectly aware that Quinn was deliberately trying to distract her. What she wasn't certain of was whether she was going to let him get away with it.
”Yeah. Anyway, he had the stone polished-not faceted-and gave it as a betrothal present to his bride. The first attempt to steal it actually occurred during their honeymoon, and the would-be thief broke his neck trying to escape out a window. Rumor has it that Edward stood over the body wearing nothing but a sheet grabbed in haste from the connubial bed and promptly declared to all present that the diamond was obviously fated to belong to his family and would henceforth be considered an amulet. Then he christened the stone the Bolling diamond.”
”Why Bolling?”
Quinn smiled. ”Well, Edward couldn't call it the Bannister diamond, because he already had one with that moniker. So he had to think of something else. And it seems he possessed a somewhat ironic sense of humor. The thief who broke his neck trying to steal the stone went by the name of Thomas Bolling.”
”And the stone he couldn't steal would forever wear his name. That is ironic. And it's a strange kind of fame.”
”Thomas Bolling would probably be pleased; from all accounts, he was both stupid and somewhat depraved and likely would have pa.s.sed through history unknown if not for his encounter with that pretty yellow diamond.”
Morgan eyed Quinn. ”Are you sure sure you aren't making this up? It spins very readily off your silver tongue.” you aren't making this up? It spins very readily off your silver tongue.”
”I swear. Ask Max.”
”Mmm. Okay, so then what happened?”
”Well, by uttering what he most likely thought would be a warning that would ward off superst.i.tious thieves at least, old Edward appears to have laid a solid foundation for the curse. Maybe fate was listening. Or maybe there simply followed a very long string of amazingly unlucky thieves. In any case, the Bolling diamond began to build quite a reputation. In those days, the stone probably weighed at least a hundred carats and likely more, so it was quite a target. And later on, when it was faceted and eventually set into the pendant, it was so breathtaking that few could resist the lure of it.
”During the next four hundred years, there were dozens of attempts to steal it, some of them remarkably ingenious. But n.o.body could successfully get it away from the Bannister family. Without exception, all the thieves died-most in decidedly painful ways. A few were caught and died in prison, but all of them died because of that stone.”
Morgan s.h.i.+vered a little. She had never been a superst.i.tious woman, but the story definitely unnerved her. No doubt because she was in love with a jewel thief. She cleared her throat and said a bit fiercely, ”You stay away from that thing.”
He smiled and moved suddenly, sliding off the couch and onto his knees in front of her chair. Before she could do anything, his hands were on her knees, easing them apart. She caught her breath as warm fingers stroked her outer thighs, then slid upward very slowly, under the silk of her robe, until they could cup her bottom and pull her toward him.
”I'm not going to steal the Bolling, Morgana,” he murmured, his eyes heavy-lidded and intense. He kissed the side of her neck, then her throat when her head fell back against the chair cus.h.i.+on. His lips trailed slowly down along the V of silky flesh exposed by the robe's lapels, and his voice grew hoa.r.s.e. ”It's the Talisman emerald I'm after.”
Morgan slid her fingers into his thick pale-gold hair and tugged gently, frowning at him a bit dazedly when he looked at her. He was distracting her, dammit. ”You're after after?”
”I mean-it's the Talisman emerald that Nightshade thinks thinks I'm after. Can we talk about this later?” He caught her lower lip delicately between his teeth, nibbling, then he was kissing her with unhidden hunger. I'm after. Can we talk about this later?” He caught her lower lip delicately between his teeth, nibbling, then he was kissing her with unhidden hunger.
He got one hand between them long enough to tug at the belt of her robe, and she felt the garment open up as if it had been designed to slip over heated flesh. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were crushed against his chest, and the feeling of his clothing against her naked skin maddened her.
She wanted him now, right now, that primitive need overwhelming everything else with a suddenness that was dimly terrifying. She didn't realize her hands were tugging at his s.h.i.+rt until she had to lean back a bit to cope with his b.u.t.tons, and then the tautness of his face and the blazing need in his eyes told her that he was as impatient for her as she was for him.
Quinn helped her to get his s.h.i.+rt off and tossed it aside. He unfastened his jeans and pushed them and his shorts down only as far as necessary, and Morgan heard herself cry out in an incoherent sound of pleasure when she felt him inside her.
When the peak came, it was as swift and sharp as the ascent had been. Quinn wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him, both of them shuddering under the force of the waves of ecstasy that tore through them-and left them with barely the strength to remain upright.
Morgan kept her face buried in the curve of his neck, breathing in the heady male scent of him while her pounding heart slowly returned to its normal steady beat. She didn't want to move or open her eyes. All she wanted to do was hold him like this while he held her and luxuriate in the sensations.
It gradually occurred to her, however, that their positions, while amazingly erotic, were hardly comfortable now that pa.s.sion was temporarily spent. In fact, being Morgan, she was suddenly tempted to giggle. A chair in her living room, for heaven's sake, and in the middle of the day. Even with the carpet, his knees were probably giving him h.e.l.l, and she'd never felt so astonished at herself in her entire life.
He lifted his head suddenly and looked at her, smiling but with fierce eyes. ”If you laugh, I swear I'll strangle you,” he told her in a voice that was still husky.
Either she had given herself away somehow, she thought, or else the connection between them was growing stronger.
She cleared her throat and tried to stop smiling. ”I'm sorry, but I can't help it. I'm not amused because this is funny, I'm just sort of . . . startled. What happened? I mean, one minute we were having a perfectly rational conversation, and the next minute we were . . .”
”Yes, we were. We certainly were.” He kissed her, then eased away and pulled his jeans up, zipping them but not bothering to fasten the snap. ”Let's do it again.”
”Wait a minute.” Trying to think clearly because something was bothering her, she tapped the middle of his chest with her index finger in a useless bid to get his full attention. ”What you told me about your-your sting. You're over here just to catch Nightshade, that's the plan, right?”
”Mmmm,” he agreed, nuzzling her neck.
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