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

against right-handers. I've done

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

him by the arm. We

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

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

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

rib

Got you, you bastard…

her. The Indian

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

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

on top of

…

as his blade slices

The rasp of

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

at the vein, he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

for my forehead,

use the

the

I swing round wildly, one way or the other, searching

There are none.

of my own fucking

Is this it?

time… this

Of all the ways I could have died

I

Live by the sword…

at these moments. The brain does odd things

don’t think

close and huge. The rest of the

My throat tightens…

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

I know

swing to its owner. So do

the spiked heels. The matching skirt just

white shoulders and frames a face made up with emerald eyes

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch

like this, not even in

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

finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides the tag

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