Page 44 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

Celeste checks. Anton bets. I call instead of raising. The ambassador’s daughter folds. Vale folds after making a show of considering it. Penn stays in.

The turn is a seven. Anton raises again. Celeste calls.

I study Anton. His attention keeps returning to Celeste, even when it should be on me. He wants to beat me, but more than that, he wants her to watch him do it. Which means this hand isn’t about money for him, either.

I slide more chips forward. “I’m in.”

Anton’s jaw shifts. Celeste looks almost amused. Penn finally folds.

The river changes nothing.

Anton bets heavily. Celeste studies him for several seconds, then folds. Now it’s just the two of us.

Anton looks at me across the table. “You’ve been lucky tonight.”

“Luck is so much more pleasant when people mistake it for skill.”

Vale laughs. Anton doesn’t. I call.

He reveals two pair, and I turn over my queens.

For one beautiful second, Anton says nothing. Vale lets out a delighted laugh. The ambassador’s daughter claps. Penn gives a low whistle.

The dealer pushes the pot in my direction, and I start gathering the chips.

Then Celeste says, “One more.”

My hand stills as she reaches into her clutch. From across the room, I feel Ledger’s attention sharpen before I even see what she takes out.

Small. Round. Black. The edge catches the light.

The token.

Celeste sets it on top of my winnings. Anton goes completely still. Nora doesn’t say a word in my ear. She doesn’t need to.

Every instinct I have wants to look more closely at the thing we have spent five days trying to get Celeste to give me. Maxwell Shaw has never seen it before. So, I pick it up with mild curiosity, turning it once between my fingers. “No denomination.” I look at Celeste. “Either I’ve won nothing or something very expensive.”

“Value is contextual.”

“Terrifying answer.”

Her mouth curves. “Consider it a referral.”

I let my eyebrows rise slightly. “For what?”

“The kind of person who knows the person.” The words land casually, but they are not casual.

I look at the chip again, then back at her. This is the most dangerous moment of the night. If I look too pleased, she’ll know I came hunting for it. If I look too confused, she may decide she misread me. So, I let interest slowly replace amusement. “The obstacles that aren’t logistical.”

“Exactly.”

“And what am I supposed to do with it?”

“For now?” she says. “Keep it.”

That is all she gives me. It’s enough.

The chip doesn’t make Maxwell Shaw one of Julian Rooke’s clients. It gets me to Rooke’s door. Celeste’s confirmation is what proves she opened it for me. Or, technically, she opened it for a wealthy criminal-adjacent private acquisitions specialist who has never existed.