She rolls her eyes. "You got any other tactics except for resorting to violence, hero?"
I don't take her barb this time. Instead, I take off my cap and set it on the hood of the truck.
"One." It's followed by my dress jacket, which I fold neatly and place beside it. "Two." I've got her attention now. She's eyeing my biceps, which I will freely admit are huge, thanks in part to training I did with her brothers. I taught them to swim like a SEAL, and they helped me bulk up. "Three."
"Petr said you jarheads are crazy." She's watching me as if trying to figure out how serious I am.
I suspect no one in her family has ever told her no or failed to give in when she yelled. But I'm not like anyone else she's met before, and she's about to learn that.
"Four." Off go the shoes.
Katya moves slowly towards the truck, muttering something I'm pretty sure I don't want to hear. She opens the door to the back, gets in and slams it.
I'd like to think she's got the sense to know when she's outmatched, but I think she's more interested in making sure I don't kill her brother between here and the retreat.
Damn civilians. I take my time to replace my clothing and rein in my temper before getting in the truck.
It's quiet in the cab. I'm not sure why I'm so surprised.
Petr looks at me like I'm crazy but doesn't speak, as if afraid to provoke the can of worms seated unhappily in the back seat.
"One big happy family," I mutter and pull out of the parking lot.
It's days like these where I'm almost glad I'm an orphan.