“The cheapo son of a bitch gave it to his Russian girlfriend as a gift. She’s been wearing it, and she’s been bragging a lot to her girlfriends about how Anton is going to be making some big move soon that’ll make him—and her, she believes—ridiculously rich.”

“Details?”

“Not as of yet. But we’re watching your boy Anton—and Frank and his crew are watching him, too. Keeping a very close eye on him, as a matter of fact. When’s the last time you spoke to him?”

“About a week or so. He keeps asking about the job—just general ‘How’s it going?’ stuff—and reminds me that I can come back to work for him if I want. I’m giving it some serious thought.” Roland shot her an Are you out of your mind? look and Ellie said, “I’m bored out of my skull. Frank’s got me doing paperwork and babysitting a bunch of Barbie and Ken dolls.”

“It will change. At some point he’ll invite you into the inner circle, have you working with the actual blood clients. Just don’t push him on it.”

“I haven’t.”

“The three guys who were killed in the explosion—these guys had military training. So it stands to reason they went into that house, at that hour, to find someone. I’m guessing that someone was Paul. Only the house was rigged. So Frank and Sebastian are spooked, playing it safe, taking no chances. The surveillance on Anton and, therefore, you, since you worked for him—Frank needs to know if he can trust you, see if you’re feeding information to Anton. I think, by the way, Frank is sort of hoping that happens. The building where you work? A lot of Ron’s people are watching it—especially at night. I think they’re hoping Paul comes there, you know, maybe tries to sabotage it or something—which is why you need to keep your eyes and ears open, keep reporting everything you see and hear to Max. Speaking of which, I need you to be—how can I say this?—more intimate with your make-believe boyfriend.”

“I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Wasn’t asking you to,” Roland said. “Although if you kids did, neither I nor Uncle Sam would stand in the way of young true love.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. The way you kiss him, a quick peck on the lips, the way you hug him and hold his hand, it’s like you’re afraid you’re going to catch a major case of the cooties. Is that what you young kids call it? The cooties?”

“Nobody has said that. Ever. And I want to see my real-life boyfriend.”

“And I assure you, my good woman, I am currently working on that. In the interim, with Max, it’s important to keep up appearances. You’re not Ellie Batista; you’re Faye Simpson, and Faye Simpson has got a love interest, and you’ve got to act the part—and look natural while you’re doing it. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you, and I’m not the only one who has picked up on the way your body stiffens when you’re in physical contact with Max.”