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...

eight inches. Well cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives

practice against right-handers. I've

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

him by the arm.

I

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

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

hand and he twists away,

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

As he swerves away from my right hand, my

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us

my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

his blade

rasp of

The metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

hovers, enjoying his moment,

the vein, he reaches

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead,

not use

got the

wildly,

There are none.

of my own fucking

Is this it?

time… this is how I

died over

I didn’t

Live by the sword…

at these moments. The brain does odd things under

think

looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes

My throat tightens…

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

I know

its owner. So do

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

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

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

been full of women offering their

seen her dressed like this, not even

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

zipper tag dangles, an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides

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