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 used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him an

practice against right-handers. I've

Fast. Teeth bared.

through, but I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

from me and suddenly I'm

then grunts as I lash for his neck but as he

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

hand and he twists away, still grinning

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

from my right hand,

rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her. The Indian

and Baxter, she charges

staggering back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling for

I go down...

on top of

…

gasp as his blade slices across

rasp of shredding

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised

at the vein, he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

aiming for my

use

got the balls

swing round wildly, one way or the

There are none.

barrel of my own fucking gun and

Is this it?

this is

ways I could have died

for something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

how the mind works at these moments. The

don’t think

the muzzle of the gun looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes around

My throat tightens…

voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and

know that

swing to its owner.

six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist and full

and frames a face

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

might have been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch in all

have never seen her dressed like this, not even in her

a pose. And with an eye on

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

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255