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“Only because I cannot sit still any longer.”

“You’ve got your very own Ken doll right here and you’re not the least bit excited?”

“Only to get you undressed later,” she hums, slipping her hand into my pocket.

“I’ll shop quick.”

Vanya keeps looking over her shoulder as we pick a store to go into in the shopping center. I feel it too. The itching sensation that we are being watched.

Not just by Bratva. They’re all over the place.

Openly.

There’s this shadowy movement around every corner.

And it’s probably our imagination. Or it’s my evil twin brother, come to replace me! Being identical would have been kind of cool. Especially if one of us had a goatee.

No such luck.

I’m trying stuff on when a buzzing sound catches my attention. Glancing around the stall door, I wait, listening for it again.

“Van!” I call.

“What?”

“Listen.”

The buzzing goes off one last time. Frowning, Vanya snatches my ratty old jacket off the bench I left it on. Fishing into the pocket, she whips out a phone.

“I thought you lost your phone in Marrakesh.”

“My phone is smashed in a dumpster that roof dived off in Marrakesh,” I correct, stepping out.

“What the fuck…” Vanya stares at me for a second, “Oh, never mind. Whose phone is this?”

“Gimme!’ I snatch it away, shuffling around her.

“Cut it out!” She slaps my hand.

I bob and weave, bouncing on my toes. Ducking a wayward smack of her hand, I lash out, snatching the phone. “Ha!”

Her fist connects with my face a second later.

“Yow!”

“That’s what you get for grabbing. And for that fucking stupid outfit. Quit bobbing and weaving!” Vanya scolds, giving me the stare.

“It’s the red jumpsuit fromRock?—”

“I know exactly what it’s from. You look ridiculous.”

“I was gonna get one for Fyodor.”

“He will kill you like Creed if you do.”

“Woooorth it.”

Vanya flicks open the screen. “Needs a fingerprint.”