Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Chapter 15

Klempner

Although I can hear chaos from down the stairs, up here now, it’s quiet. There’s no-one in the dance room.

In the pool room, the only sound is the crunching of glass under my boots. I carry on to Finchby’s office.

All empty?

It seems so.

The time?

Time to go.

Except… as I’m about to turn and leave a girl, I see her; barely a teenager, some variety of Asian, Indian perhaps. Streaming tears, she skitters out from behind the desk, making for the kitchen.

I follow her and she cringes back into the corner. I offer my hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You have to leave.”

She babbles at me in I’ve-no-idea-what language, then abruptly, her face swings up to mine and fingers outstretched, leaps up at me, clawing at my face. Reflexively, I jerk back, and she bolts past me and out, back the way I came.

Fuck!

I dash after her, but in the few seconds, she’s gone, vanished.

Where did she go?

Out?

Or somewhere deeper inside?

I check my watch… Three minutes…

Christ!

I have to find her… If she’s on the stairwell, perhaps I’ll hear her. I turn for the bar, heading for the stairs up and down, and there…

Fuck.

Baxter.

I reach for my Glock… And it’s not there.

Damn… When did I put it down?

Baxter flashes brows. And the knife in his hand. “Going somewhere?”

“I was planning on leaving.” I slip the knife from my belt. “Your friend Finchby has already left the building. I believe the money may be with him.”

“I’m not going to weep over Finchby. And I didn't do it for the cash. Well… mainly not for the cash. And I have my half anyway.”

We circle, eyeball to eyeball.

Make the first move?

Wait for him?

I move slowly, watching for the twitch of the hand. The nudge of the shoulder. The tell that he's going to stop talking and...

He slashes out… moves fast…

But it’s a feint and we both know it, calculated to draw a reaction from me.

Testing me…

My speed…

My reactions…

Younger than me...

How much by?

Ten years?

His knife...

inches. Well cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives

against right-handers. I've done

Hard. Fast. Teeth

arm.

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

dancing back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back

grunts as I lash for his neck but as he swings away, my fist

up on my advantage, I bully forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out

right hand and he twists

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

not. Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand is

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her.

me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist

staggering back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

My gasp as his blade slices across

rasp of

The metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

vein, he reaches into his jacket, he takes out

My Glock?

for my forehead,

use

got the balls for

I swing round wildly, one way

There are none.

barrel of my own fucking

Is this it?

time… this is how I

Of all the ways I could have died over the years, I’m taken out by a shite

for something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

how the mind works at these moments.

think

the gun looms close and huge. The rest

My throat tightens…

real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against

know

swing to its

heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist and

white shoulders and frames a face made up with emerald eyes painted Goth-dark

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

of women offering their all. But nothing compares

her dressed like

one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him to do his

hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides

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