The lingering intuition Ace Kane had about the following morning—specifically regarding the potential discomfort of Xena Harrison—was a bridge he hadn't yet crossed. The night was still young, its shadows stretching long over the city, and the air held a crisp, expectant chill. After a quick dinner at a roadside diner, Ace wiped his mouth with a napkin, tossed it onto the plastic tray, and climbed back into the driver’s seat of his car, ready to call it a night and head back to the estate.
However, Claire Sinclair had other plans. As she settled into the passenger side, she didn't reach for her seatbelt. Instead, she handed him a sleek, high-tech device that resembled a ruggedized iPad. Its screen glowed with a detailed navigational overlay, a pulsing blue dot marking a destination far fr
