Dixon let out the breath he’d been holding. He smiled at the other giant, but it was a nervous expression, punctuated by a faint twitching of his left eye, and it took him a moment to relax the tight, white-knuckled grip he’d had on his gun. He’d known that Clementine wouldn’t be happy with what he’d done, and he’d been afraid of what she might do to him.

Whoever Clementine was, she was definitely in charge, and Dixon was scared of her. He had shot an unarmed woman in the face, but he was still taking pains to tiptoe around the other giant. That told me a few things about Clementine, namely that she was even more dangerous and ruthless than Dixon was.

Clementine got to her feet and glanced at her watch. I didn’t get a good look at it, but I could still see the flash of diamonds and the gleam of silverstone around her wrist. An expensive piece, one far too pricey for a simple waiter. Then again, Clementine wasn’t what she seemed to be, any more than I was.

Didn’t much matter. She was getting dead in another minute, two tops.

I’d wait until they left Jillian’s body behind, creep through the shadows after them, then ram my knife into Clementine’s back. Once she was dead, I’d find a quiet, secluded corner in the museum where I could question Dixon—a place where no one would hear him scream out the answers. Depending on what he told me, I’d either wipe his blood off my knives and go back to the exhibit, or I’d find Finn and tell him that we had a situation to deal with—

“Is everyone else in position?” Clementine asked.

Dixon reached down and grabbed a walkie-talkie that was clipped to the black leather belt around his waist. “Team one?”

A staticky crackle sounded, along with a male voice. “In position.”

“Team two?” he asked.

Another crackle, another voice, this one female. “In position.”

He repeated the procedure, checking in with three other teams. I didn’t know how many folks were on each team, but I was willing to bet that it was several. This was what the stones had been murmuring about all evening. Whatever was happening, I was going to stop it—and the giants.

Clementine nodded, satisfied. “All right. Grab her, and let’s get out of here.”

“Aw, do I have to?” Dixon whined again. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Because you’re the idiot who shot her in the face. You made the mess, so you can carry her. Do you have a problem with that?” Her voice was calm, polite even, but her hazel eyes were cold, flat, and empty.

“No, no, no, that’s okay,” Dixon said. “I can get her. No problem, boss.”