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…

that gives

right-handers. I've done

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

grins, then grunts as I lash for his neck but as he

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

right hand and he twists

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

away from my

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her.

the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the silly

my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

his blade

The rasp

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

his moment, the knife poised at my

point nipping at the vein, he reaches

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead,

not use the

the balls

up on my elbows I swing round wildly,

There are none.

of my own fucking gun

Is this it?

this

ways I could have died over the years, I’m taken out by

for something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments. The brain does odd things

think

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

My throat tightens…

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

know

its

in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and

frames a face

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

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

like

lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And

dangles, an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop

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