“You,” Slava says, barking at me. “Give me your keycard.” Behind Slava, MacKenzie, Valery, and Etienne are desperately looking away. They're staring at the potted plants, the escalators, the grouting in the tile. Their faces are red and their lips are pressed tight. I frown and hold out my keycard. Slava snatches it, then presses his card into my hand. “You two want to talk all night? Fine. Leave me in peace.”
