Chapter 3
“Do you still have the gun I gave you?”
Barb looked up from sipping her coffee at the tiny table by the galley. Taya, showered and dressed, stood in the doorway from the bunk room. Her hair was still damp, she wore no makeup, and her eyes were red and dark-circled.
“Yes, I’ve still got the gun,” Barb said.
“Then if you have any compassion in your heart, shoot me.”
“A little hung over, are we?” Barb poured another cup of coffee and placed it in front of Taya when she sat at the table and put her head on her hands.
“No, we are not a little hung over. I, on the other hand, am more hung over than Rasputin the day after a milestone birthday.” She sipped the coffee and grimaced. “Ow, f**k me. What was I drinking?”
“Whisky.”
“That’s where I went wrong, drinking that Celtic witch
