“The reward he’s offering would solve my debt problems—all of my debt problems,” Ellie said. “I wouldn’t have to take out a personal loan from you—from anyone.”

“Tell me what you know, and I’ll tell—”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

Ellie’s tone was polite. Still, Frank’s eyebrows jumped in surprise, and his face flushed.

“I’ll share everything I know,” Ellie said, “but only with your boss.”

Ellie had seen plenty of men get angry over the course of her life, but she had never witnessed full-blown rage until the day when Anton, pumped full of carrier blood, flipped out and crushed a stickman’s hand in a car door. Anton’s rage, though, was a primal response. Like fire, it burned for a brief period of time until it either died on its own or was extinguished. What Ellie saw in Frank’s eyes was a cold and clinical detachment—the soul of a man who, after slitting your throat, would sit back down at the dinner table to resume eating while you lay at his feet, bleeding.

Ellie was glad she was wearing dark-lensed sunglasses. They hid the fear in her eyes, her rapid blinking. “I mean no disrespect,” she said. “This is just business. I’m sure you’d do the same thing if you were in my position.”

Frank opened his mouth to speak. He immediately snapped it shut and abruptly pulled over to the side of the road and double-parked. He kept his hands on the steering wheel, squeezing it, and for some reason she thought he was going to backhand her, right here in the car. He didn’t seem like the type to hit a woman, but then again, how many women had come before who had made that mistake?

“Call me when Sebastian wants to talk,” Ellie said, and turned to the door.

Frank grabbed her roughly by the wrist.

“Hold on,” he said.

He took out his phone and began punching in a number.

“In person,” Ellie said. “Not over the phone. In person.”

Frank’s gaze burrowed into her face as he spoke into the phone. “I have someone who insists on meeting with you. Faye Simpson. I’m sitting with her right now. She just informed me she met Paul yesterday. Anton arranged the meeting.”

The conversation that followed was short, less than a minute. Ellie had no idea what it was about, since Frank didn’t speak. He listened to whatever Sebastian was saying, Ellie unable to make out a single word.

Frank hung up and placed the phone on the console. As he slid back into morning traffic, his features morphed into a waxy stillness. He didn’t speak.

Ellie stared out the windshield, trying to collect herself and her thoughts. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing, and she wanted to rub her wrist. He was surprisingly strong, Frank was. Then again, most men were. She realized—and not for the first time—she was at the mercy of men. It frightened her, yes, but she didn’t let it overpower her. She knew how to fight, wasn’t afraid of fighting.