The gunshot was quieter than I expected, and the recoil of the pistol sent a shock up my arm as I squeezed my eyes shut tight. My heart stuttered, and my nails dug into Natasha’s hand and hers mine. The stench intensified, and saliva pooled in my mouth as bile sloshed up my throat.
Doubling over at the mighty heaving of my stomach, I dropped the gun with an extraordinarily loud clatter, and my dry heaving echoed through the room.
Or should I say mausoleum?
Big hands that weren’t Natasha’s gathered up my hair, but nothing crawled up to slip off my tongue. Suddenly, I was really glad the only thing I’d eaten was ice cream and booze, and a long, slender arm wrapped under me to keep me off the ground.
“You look surprised.” Above my ducked head, Natasha spoke blandly, and I gasped hoarsely and arched sharply. Tears dripped off my nose, and that gross taste spread across my tongue as cold droplets of sweat streamed between my breasts.
“I honestly didn’t expect you to do that. You know, Natasha, you’re one badass bitch.” Colorful spots assaulted my vision when I shook my head, and I straightened, shivering and weak, to gasp for air. My sister took my cheeks in her cool hands to force me to look at her, and she smiled so beautifully even as she pressed her forehead against mine.
“We got a lot of ice cream to eat and a lot of alcohol to drink, Valerie.” And we walked out, together, always together, leaving even Carlyle behind.
