The whole ride to the warehouse, GreenLee doesn’t say a word. She’s got her headphones in, completely tuned out. It’s kind of annoying. I lean over to say something, but Sal stops me with a hand on my arm.
“It’s her process,” he says. “Keeps her calm.”
I nod and sit back, refocusing on our conversation.
“Have they said anything?”
“Not much. Nothing my guys can understand. They only speak Russian,” Sal explains.
“Russian?” Gio raises a brow, shaking his head.
“My Russian’s a little rusty. Do we have a translator or something?”
"А ты называешь себя боссом мафии," GreenLee says suddenly.
We all turn to her like she’s grown three heads. Bruce chuckles from the front seat.
I pull her headphones out. “What was that, princess?”
“You heard me,” she replies, still speaking Russian.
Sal l
