Deathbringer by Blake Carpenter

Author:Blake Carpenter [Blake Carpenter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Livro Publishing
Published: 2024-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Inga squeezed the trigger. The gun went off, its report much louder than her previous shots; she gave a yelp and nearly dropped it until a larger, stronger hand reached around to steady hers.

“Careful, careful!” Pyotr’s tone was calm and level. He was generally good-natured, but Inga could still sense some tension in him as he gently took the revolver away.

“Sorry,” Inga said, hoping she sounded contrite.

“It’s alright, you just startled me. Sometimes there’s a little too much powder packed into the brass, so be mindful of that.” Pyotr took the barrel in one hand, and with a grip on the handle in the other he worked a small hinge, allowing him to spill out the spent casings into his hand. He jerked a chin towards the old hay bale standing in front of a thick copse of trees, freshly-painted with red and white circles as a target. “You’re getting better.”

“Oh, that’s easy for you to say.” Inga huffed and rubbed at her palm; the skin felt tender, the nerves still buzzing. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to firing one of those things. They’re so…crude.” One of her mother’s proverbs came to mind: “You will learn how to fight with the weapon you have, or you’ve already lost.” Inga wrinkled her nose and silently shooed such unwanted thoughts away for a little longer.

“‘Crude?’” Pyotr kept his attention on his work, slipping a new bullet into each chamber, which he did quickly and methodically. “This from the woman who jogs across the entire farmstead every day, when you aren’t exercising or swinging that waster around until your arms are ready to fall off.”

“They are crude!” she objected. “Just point, click, boom.” Inga curled her fingers in a rough mockery of a handgun, aiming at the target, even dropping her thumb in imitation of the hammer falling. “There’s no finesse, no artistry, no skill. Anybody can use one, so everybody does.”

“Miss Ivanova.” Inga blinked, looking back to see Pyotr giving her a long look, one eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. “To hear you talk that way, I might almost be tempted to say you’re sounding…snooty.” He worked the hinge, closing the pistol with its new load of six fresh bullets.

“‘Snooty?’” Inga huffed and held out her hand for the gun. “I am not.”

“Are too,” he countered, handing her the pistol, but not before sticking his tongue out.

It was so unexpected that it made her laugh. “Are not!” She stuck out her tongue back at him—no reason for her to act mature if he wasn’t going to.

Pyotr winked with a quick grin before stepping around behind her. “Alright, Your Majesty, let’s see you shoot again.”

Inga snorted and rolled her eyes, but his grin was infectious and she found herself matching it. Planting her feet, she cradled her dominant hand with the other, aiming down the tiny metal front sight, focusing on the hay bale in the distance. “Pyotr?”

“Mm?” He was right behind her, a comforting weight and presence, his hands on her hips, his mouth close to her ear.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.