[Jake's POV]
Claire was waiting when I stepped out of the Calder Gallery.
Not beside the car. Not leaning against the SUV like a bodyguard pretending to be casual. She stood across the street beneath the awning of a closed antique shop, arms folded, face half hidden beneath the warm glow of an old streetlamp. The city moved around her in black coats and taxi lights, but she stood still enough that my eyes found her before they found the car.
"You came out alive," she said when I crossed the street.
"I try to make that a habit."
"You also made Aurelia Bancroft laugh."
"Jealous?"
"Concerned."
"That hurts."
"It should."
I reached into my jacket and showed her the cream-colored card. No name. No address printed on the front. Just a raised silver line across the middle and a small handwritten number on the back.
Claire took it carefully, like it might bite. "That is her table card."
"Good."
