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 used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him

practice against right-handers. I've done

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

grunts as I lash for his neck but as he swings away,

forward, reaching for his

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

As he swerves away from my right hand,

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

out of nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the silly

my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

gasp as his blade

The rasp of shredding

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment,

he reaches into his jacket, he

My Glock?

aiming for my

not use the

the balls

round wildly, one way or the other, searching for

There are none.

staring straight up the barrel of my

Is this it?

all this time… this is

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

I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments. The

think I’m

the gun looms close and huge. The rest of

My throat tightens…

is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal

I know that

its owner. So

heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a

a face made up with emerald eyes painted

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

might be a brothel. It might have been full of women offering their

dressed like this, not even in her

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

silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth

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