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

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him

right-handers. I've

out. Hard. Fast.

and he follows through, but I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to

I

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back recovering

but as he swings away, my

I bully forward, reaching for

and he twists away, still

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from my

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to

staggering back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling

I go down...

on

…

as his blade

rasp of

metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

he hovers, enjoying his moment, the

at the vein, he reaches into his jacket, he takes

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead,

not use

got the balls

up on my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or

There are none.

of my own fucking gun and to Baxter’s

Is this it?

all this time… this is how

with irritation. Of all the ways I could have died over the years,

I didn’t

Live by the sword…

moments. The brain does

think

huge. The rest

My throat tightens…

The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal

know that

to its owner.

close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch

a face made up with emerald eyes painted

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

be a brothel. It might have been full of women offering their all.

have never seen her dressed like this, not

tall, chin lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an

an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth,

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