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traction.”
    She laughed. “Complaining?”
    “Hell, no.” He smiled, and his eyes were like the glowing blue at the base of a flame. “In fact, I'm a bit anxious to get back to that new house of ours and have another go at christening the bed.”
    They had found and rented a terrific house with an enclosed garden, where Bear could sun himself and chase bugs, and had moved their things there days ago. But with their working hours—and tendency to forget practical matters whenever they were alone—they were still in the process of settling in.
    Though they hadn't yet decided where “home” would be in the future, the
Mysteries Past
exhibit would demand that both of them remain in San Francisco for at least the coming months.
    “We need to finish unpacking,” she pointed out mildly.
    “A minute ago you were hot for my body,” he said in a wounded tone.
    “I still am, but when it comes to love among the boxes—once is enough.” Storm grinned at him and began typing in the commands that would get her out of the computer system for the day. “By the way—even though neither of you has said much about it, it's pretty obvious you and Jared have known each other a long time. Not so surprising, I suppose, given your jobs. Him with Interpol and you with Lloyd's.”
    “Our paths have crossed in the last ten years,” Wolfe admitted.
    “So you've learned to respect each other's authority.”
    Her voice had been placid, but Wolfe realized she wasn't yet prepared to drop the subject.
    “Yes,” he said, “we respect each other's authority—and ability to do our jobs. That hasn't changed. But Jared crossed a line, Storm. He might not have hung you out like bait on a hook, but he didn't give you information you had every right to know, information that would at least have put you on guard. You deserved better. You know it, I know it, and he knows it.”
    “I'm an Interpol agent. Risk comes with the job.”
    “You're a technical specialist for Interpol, not a field agent. It was your own sense and savvy that kept you alive, not any training from Interpol. And Jared had no right to put you in that position without so much as a warning to watch your back.”
    “What's done is done.”
    Wolfe drew a breath and released it slowly. “Look, I know he's your boss. I respect that. You want to defend him, I understand; your loyalty is one of the reasons I love you. But if you expect me to forgive him anytime soon for unnecessarily endangering your life, forget it.”
    “It's not going to do me any good to argue, huh?”
    “No. Not about this.”
    Whatever response Storm might have made became unimportant when the subject of their discussion rapped on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response.
    “We've got trouble,” Jared said.
     
    It was early Saturday evening when Morgan's phone rang, and she picked it up hastily since Quinn was sleeping in the next room. “Hello?”
    “How is he?” Max asked.
    “Getting restless. I had to threaten to tie him to the bed, but he finally agreed to at least try to sleep. He's already been up a couple of times, Max. The doc was right—he does heal fast.”
    “Probably a necessity for a man in his line of work.”
    Morgan hesitated, then said, “You don't sound very disapproving of his line of work.”
    “It isn't my place to judge. Besides, do you honestly think my approval or disapproval would change anything?”
    “No. No, it wouldn't. I guess I'm just surprised at how calmly you're taking all this. And how helpful you've been to Quinn.”
    “Did you expect me to say no when you called?”
    Morgan had to laugh. “To be honest, it never crossed my mind that you might. All I was thinking was that you could get a doctor here quietly without the police having to know. But it would probably have been better for both of us if you—or I—had called the police that night.”
    “Better for the exhibit, you mean?”
    “Yeah. Of course that's what I meant. Better for