Claire, wearing her favorite cashmere sweater and holding a can of pepper spray like it was a TV remote, nodded seriously. “So, no going for a nice drive with the kidnapper. Got it.”
Claire finally lowered her fists, a look of dawning horror on her face. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Do you want some ice? Or… the ashes of the giraffe?”
“Okay, Claire,” he said, adopting a gravelly action-hero voice. “The number one rule: never let them get you to the secondary location.”