Karla felt the old man buckle under her restraint. She tightened her embrace and held on to the chair for support. Gachi waited for the convulsions to stop before loosening her grip, then felt his grimy hands squeeze her ass.
She grasped his jaw in one hand, “I’ll give you a pass” she muttered ignoring his question.
Then she threw his face aside and plucked his fingers off her buttocks. She unwrapped a leg from his torso slowly, making sure he wouldn’t buck and fall face down. She circled the chair and frowned at the dagger in his back.
“Nothin’ personal, hon” she promised. She found the glass of rum still waiting for her on the ledge of the cabinet, reached over randall, her wait made the chair totter nearly sending both parties face-forward, but it reeled back into place. The girl didn’t seem to care. She took a leisurely sip.
“Want some?” she offered Randal.
“Humour me...” she smirked taking a second sip.
The beverage swung out of the cup and seemed suspended in mid air as the ship careened sideways when the red venom exploded. The sound, she swore, burst her eardrums and would have killed Randall if he fell on his back.
“Precision work here!” Karla wanted to bellow.
The ship swayed, she was struggling to stand when the cracks of fireguns ripped above her cutting her time and patience.
She ran to the door and pushed a chair against the knob of the door, expecting company soon enough. She uncovered a blade secured against the band of her thigh and walked to Randall.
“Hell ‘s breaking loose up there!” The ship swung, “where’d you have the logbook?”
Her sing-song voice took a venomous edge. She closed up on him much like she had earlier when she had seduced him. Her black curls fell over the bridge of her nose and shadowed her exquisite caramel face.
“Tell me quick and you might just live yet, Randell. ”