Page 97 of Cold Target

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Joe emerged from the building's glass doors. Ivy stood on the sidewalk, her hands in her coat pockets, watching him approach.

They fell into step together, their shadows stretching long in the streetlights.

"I know a place," Joe said as he put his arm around her shoulders and she reciprocated with an arm around his waist. "Great duck confit. French. Real baguette. I'm buying."

Ivy smiled. "Oui,” she said.

They walked for a bit and then Ivy asked, “How did she take it?"

Joe didn’t answer right away. After a few moments, he gave a short reply.

"Right between the eyes.”