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...

maybe eight inches. Well

Well used…

Left-handed…

gives him an

right-handers.

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

the arm. We grapple. His blade to my

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

for his neck but as he swings away, my fist lands in his

up on my advantage, I bully forward,

right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand is

rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

and Baxter,

back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling for

I go down...

on top of

…

as his

rasp of shredding

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment,

nipping at the vein, he reaches into

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead, he backs

use

the

wildly, one way or the other, searching for

There are none.

staring straight up the barrel of my own fucking gun and to

Is this it?

time… this is how I

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

for something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

the mind works at these moments. The brain

think

The rest of the world vanishes around

My throat tightens…

contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and

know

its

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

hair tumbles gloriously over smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with emerald

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

women offering their all. But nothing compares

have never seen her dressed like this,

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

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

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