Swirling azure lights of the CPD, garnet lights of the CFD, and numerous high-beams all mixed together, blinding Sean. He slouched in the open doorway of an ambulance, sipping water like an elixir while a tech swabbed alcohol on his bloody wrists and knuckles. An ice pack was firmly wrapped around his throbbing knee.

He glanced at Gretch, ten feet away. She sported a serious case of hat hair and a bruised cheek from Victor slapping her, and Trick’s t-shirt covered her like a sloppy CFD tent. Sean couldn’t remember her more beautiful. Real. Although uninjured, she was attended to by three strapping EMS guys, whom she completely ignored. She tilted her head and smiled at Sean like he was a hero.

Yeah. He officially was. The final Quinn to reach that status. But he shook his head gently, hoping his meaning was clear. Life would suck if Gretch lost her sass and started fawning over him.

“I’d like to check on her,” he said to the tech ripping the backing off a bandage.

“Soon.”

Jace hurried around the back of the vehicle, breaking into a relieved smile. “Hey.” He hunkered down and embraced Sean, which seemed much more natural than the shoulder-clap attempt at O’Hare a week ago. “You look a hell of a lot better than those three.”

Sean’s lips twitched. “You should have seen Gretch go after them. Wasn’t pretty. She totally saved the day.”

“We know it was you, Nancy.” Jace cuffed him gently and pulled out his phone. “Mom wants to FaceTime immediately.”

“Not yet.” Sean leaned forward. “Listen, that bomb—how many people died?”

“Three agents. Including Dirk.”

The breath left Sean’s body in a whoosh. “I’m sorry, Jace. You know it was Adyton, right?”

His brother nodded tightly.

“What did he blow up?”

“That warehouse you went to on Knox.”

Sean jerked in surprise. “He blew up his own merchandise?”

“Turns out it wasn’t his place.”

“He had a key. He gave it to his great-nephew.”

Jace shifted his weight and brushed a knuckle across his eyelid. “Then it must have been stolen. You were taken to his rival’s warehouse. Adyton probably planned to kill you there and our focus would have reverted straight onto the rival. A Tomas Hussain.”

Hussain… “That’s the buyer’s name on a bogus sixty-million-dollar inventory list. According to Gretch, Adyton’s artifacts are only worth a hundred thousand. He’s hiding money, or maybe some kind of sophisticated money-laundering scheme.”

“I doubt the inventory list is legitimate. We’ve interviewed Hussain for hours. Those men have never done business together; they're on opposite sides of the Syrian civil war. Adyton’s gone out of his way to set up Hussain these last few days.”

“He’s gone out of his way to set up Chicago and the government, Jace.” Sean waved into the night. “Adyton planted many more bombs and will set them off every time the FBI interferes.” He quickly told Jace all they’d learned about the small faction letting ISIS claim responsibility, the confession to Dwayne’s death, and now wanting negotiating power for a U.S. exodus in Syria. Jace texted somebody like a demented man.

“So whatever your task force did today to interfere set off the first bomb,” Sean said, smoothing a jagged tear in the label of his water bottle. “Maybe use his great-nephew’s custody—he’s the bodybuilder over there—to negotiate a ceasefire.” Sean paused. “Also, Walter, our boss, may be involved. I really hope it’s an ignorant business deal.”

“It isn’t,” Jace said. “We’ve spent hours interrogating the anthropology consultant—”

“I know Joe.”

Jace scowled. “Turns out he’s been supplying false provenances for Adyton’s artifacts. And guess what? He’s Walter’s cousin.”

It still didn’t add up. “I know it looks bad, but Walter doesn’t even jaywalk. Besides, if the sixty-million-dollar list was bogus, then all Moore and Morrow did was accept a gold-leaf Quran from a then-legitimate antiques dealer.”

Jace massaged his bristled jaw. His exhaustion and puffy features made him look ten years older than the self-assured renegade who’d taunted Sean on the way to the airport. His phone dinged, and tension ratcheted up his spine. “I gotta go.” He clapped Sean’s shoulder. “Listen. You did great work this week. I’m damn proud to call you my brother.”

Sean blinked. The words and the sincerity resounded like an echo in his head. If only he had a recording device to hear it again just to be sure. To replay over and over when his brain wasn’t this fatigued. To overlay onto a Mozart sonata… His brother stared at him expectantly.

Sean shrugged and flushed. “You too.”

“Say. There’s an opening for a consultant.” His brother broke into a sheepish grin as he stuck his phone back in his suit pocket. “I’d be happy to recommend you.”

Sean dredged enough energy to return the grin. “I’m ready to go back to my unobtrusive life, thank you. Listen, have you heard anything about my students?”

“No one was harmed, and the little guy Phillip is being treated as a national champ. He was on the Today show this morning.”

Good. Phillip deserved the kudos, and would no doubt stand up to any future bullies at school. “And the painting?”

“Boston already came and got it. Donatello made bail this morning.” Jace looked a little green saying both sentences.

Sean couldn’t resist poking him further. “And now this. Who’d have thought I’d save the day and get the girl?”

His brother frowned.

“Aw, come on, Jace.” Sean broke into a grin. “You’ve gotta know by now that she likes me better.”

They both glanced at Gretch, whose eyes were trained on them. When Jace saluted, she waved. Her gaze strayed back to Sean, and a small smile played on her lips. Jace did see this, right?

“Well, shit.” His brother cleared his throat. “You know how hard this is for me?”

Sean nodded, warmth skidding through his veins.

Jace checked his watch and jerked his head. “Come on. Looks like she needs rescuing from the throng.” He assisted Sean up, and they pushed their way past the hovering technicians. Gretch seemed completely at ease with five men jostling before her. Her smile morphed into something more sassy and royal.

Jace reached for her hand. “We could have been something, you and me,” he said solemnly, “but I’m going to have to uninvite you to my mom’s birthday party.”

“Okay,” she answered, barely giving him a glance. That weird feeling settled over Sean again. He wasn’t used to winning The Girl. Certainly not one who had the rapt attention of medical personnel and who barely registered his hero brother.

Sean stuffed his hands in his pockets at her expectant expression. Naturally, his brother, who’d been in a hurry moments ago, wouldn’t move off, and the other men turned one by one, to eye Sean’s lingering presence in puzzlement. “Would you…uh…like to…meet my family Sunday?” he stammered. He didn’t mean for his eyebrows to tilt upward—she hated that.

She nodded, beaming. “Yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

Euphoria spread like molten lava through his tired limbs. “Great.” He smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. Score one for the geeks.