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 used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him

right-handers. I've

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

but as he swings away,

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

and

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from my right hand, my

rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter,

staggering back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

his blade

The rasp of

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

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

he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

aiming for my

use

got the

elbows I swing round wildly, one way or

There are none.

staring straight up the barrel of my own fucking gun and

Is this it?

time… this

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

something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

the mind works at these moments. The brain does odd

think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

aren't you 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 unarmed man. And

know that

to its owner.

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

white shoulders and frames a face

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

been full of women offering their

dressed like this, not even in her

strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter

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

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