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Alla doesn’t want my charity, but Misha has holes in her shoes. Sometimes there’s no right thing to do, just the lesser of two wrongs.

* * *

“What should we call it?”Adrik asks.

“Molniya.That’s why I shaped it that way—it’s lightning in a pill.”

“Which version is this?”

“I dunno—6.0, maybe.”

I hold up the little yellow bolt to pop in his mouth.

“How do I know you’re getting the doses right?”

I scowl at him. “I don’t remember you picking me up at the dock at MIT. I’m estimating.”

Adrik laughs. “Fair enough. I have one more question, though—what if it makes the customers a little too content? What if they don’t want to pay for lap dances? The strippers won’t sell it if it doesn’t help them make money.”

I pretend to pout. “You don’t have faith in me.”

“This is business, not religion.”

“What about a little wager, then?”

Adrik sits up straighter on the bed, a wolf catching scent of its favorite prey. He loves a good bet.

“What kind of wager?”

“How much cash do you have on you?”

He pulls a wad of bills out of his pocket, some rubles, but mostly American Benjamins, the currency no Russian will refuse.

“A lot,” he says.

“I’m going to charge you a thousand dollars a song,” I tell him. “You try and keep as much as you can.”

He smiles. “And what do I get if I can resist you?”

“I’ll wear my helmet every time I ride my bike.”

“Like a good girl.”

“Like the best good girl,” I say, trailing my finger down his chest.

“And ifyouwin?”

“I want a new gun. An expensive one.”

“A John Wick gun?” he teases me.

Andrei and Hakim and I have been watching the trilogy, drooling over the endless supply of high-tech hardware John Wick seems to keep buried in every convenient basement.

“Yes. I want the actual gun Keanu Reeves held in his hand. Imagine how jealous Andrei would be.”

“He might cry.”

“God, I hope so.”