Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Chapter 11

*****

 

Michael

I recognise the face of James’ guard, the one they’re calling Hickman. I’ve seen it before in the photo Klempner identified; Baxter’s henchman.

He shoves James towards us, James shooting him a look that would knock flies from the air, before squatting down by Charlotte. He runs a finger over her cheek. “Sorry we took so long to get here.”

She returns the gesture. “They’ve hurt you.”

James’ brows rise. His head tilts. “They’ve hurt me?”

I struggle out from behind her. “James, take my place, support her. I need a look at what’s happening.”

He manoeuvres to sit behind Charlotte, his back against the wall, kissing her rank hair as he supports her against himself.

And now, kneeling between her open legs and with a decent view, I can see Cara’s head is all but out. “I think one more good push will do it, Babe.”

Baxter waves the barrel of his pistol at Klempner. “On your knees. Hands behind your head.”

Klempner gives him a slow look then drops to the ground, fingers clasped at the back of his neck.

“Stannis, you keep him there.” Baxter jabs a finger at the other guard who moves to stand by Klempner, gun muzzle pressed to his temple. Then he nods Hickman to my bag and Klempner’s. “Check them out. See what’s inside.”

He tips out Klempner’s first; his mobile armoury tumbling to the floor with a clatter. Baxter kicks guns, knives and rope to the far side of the cell, out of Klempner’s range.

Then he looks him up and down. “Larry, have you put on weight?”

Klempner adopts a pained expression. “I’m wearing rather more clothes than usual.”

Baxter cocks a brow. “I'm not sure about that outfit as a sartorial statement.”

Lips pressed tight, Klempner casts eyes sidelong, then back again. “What's your gripe with me, Baxter?”

“You have to ask? More than twenty years I worked for you, and you left me behind like I didn’t matter. Abandoned me to the cops like some piece of rubbish.”

“The police were coming. I had about a minute to get out of sight. When I last saw you, you were unconscious after you'd let a complete amateur take you out. As I left, you were nowhere to be seen. What was I supposed to think? You’d gone. I assumed you’d run for it.”

“No. I hadn’t. I’d just crawled into the shadows while I got my head back. You didn’t even look. You walked out and you kept walking.”

“Yes, because I didn’t know you were there. You couldn’t have called out or something? I could see blue lights flashing. What was I supposed to do? Mount a search? As far as I was concerned, you’d gone.”

Baxter sneers. “Make your excuses, Larry. You owe me. You’re going to pay.”

“I owe you nothing. I never did. And besides, you have the money.”

Baxter rocks on his heels. “Money’s not everything, Larry. Money’s not everything.”

He turns from Klempner, dismissing him, nods to Hickman, then to my rucksack. “Turn it out. Let’s see what’s in his bag of tricks.”

I try to interrupt, to stop what I can already see happening… “No… don’t…”

But it’s too late. Clean towels and wraps tumble out, dropping into the slops on the floor, no longer fresh and sweet-smelling but wet and fouled.

“Was that necessary?”

Baxter smirks, poking through the heap with the end of a boot, wiping them further into the dirt. “Can’t be too careful, can we. Who knows what you have in there?”

“What I had in there were the basics for a young woman to safely deliver her baby. Now…” I poke through the pile, trying to find something useable…

Christ…

“… What the hell am I supposed to do with this lot?”

the floor, shaking off drops of gunk, then showing it to me. “What’re these for? They don’t

case I have to cut the cord. And it looks as though I will

into a pocket. “Did no-one

against James. Straining, mouth flung wide, she pants and heaves, and then, scarlet-faced, with a shriek of

… I move fast…

small bloody package drops into my hands then starts squalling loudly as Cara protests her rude entry into the

“I’ll catch you later. Enjoy

“What’s wrong? You’re not bothered

mess on the ground. “You handle it.”

“So that’s what he’s made

Charlotte levers herself forward. “Is Cara

of inspections: head, arms, legs… Eyes, toes, fingers… “She’s

outstretched. “Give her

a second.” I’m casting around, looking for the cover I

Crap!

fine and warm, is now wet; cold and stinking. I pick it up, hoping… But it

I hurl the useless thing

Baxter. “The baby’s healthy, isn’t it?

your monkey there

kneeling position, he tugs the hem of the fleece he’s wearing… my

happened to you coming from thirty-five degrees and sixty per

dry. “It’s thirty-seven degrees and a hundred per cent

as the garment is, I wrap the squalling, protesting Cara in it, tying the sleeves around her small body, then

the filth and the gunmen standing

and utter exhaustion, the baby is placed in her arms and her face illuminates. Young or old, plain or pretty, in that moment, every

spreads like a rainbow over her face. Taking the fleece-enveloped Cara, she stares, as

the small be-wrapped squaller. “I did it, Mas... James. I gave

open, bleeding with the gesture. “So you did.” He touches his daughter’s face, stroking with a fingertip.

Abruptly, Charlotte shudders…

even through his swollen face, looks

“It’s okay. It’s just the placenta being ejected.” Snapping

“Not a chance.”

something to cut

“Improvise.”

Bastard…

me have the clamps and

hand back and forth,

my hands the cord, hot to the touch, a strange braided alien-looking thing; thick,

the heap of towels and blankets

Baxter shifts. “What for?”

the clamp and

“Take what you

think I’m likely to be with a new-born baby in

plastic bag containing clamps, gauze and the bottle of spirit. The

run a quick mental re-run to the How-To videos I watched, then carefully

both hands, I pull it

of me wants to heave. Another part

It’s just meat…

there are no nerves in the cord, nothing to cause pain to either

the thing with my teeth. But

And it’s through…

and the trailing tail still attached to the placenta as I swipe blood from my mouth with the

her eyes alight, places Cara on her belly, naked skin to naked

supporting Charlotte from behind, is unreadable. It’s hardly surprising. The magic of seeing your child born. The sheer savagery of the moment

leaning against the

to the floor and I scoop it up, about to

speaks quickly. “Hickman, get the

What the hell…?

“What the fuck

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