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

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives

against right-handers. I've done

Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

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, my fist lands in

bully forward, reaching

hand and he twists away,

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her.

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

my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

My gasp as his blade

rasp

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment, the

the vein, he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead,

use

the

up on my elbows I swing round wildly, one way

There are none.

barrel of my own fucking gun and

Is this it?

all this time… this

died over the years, I’m taken out by a shite

something I

Live by the sword…

at these moments. The brain does odd

don’t think I’m

of the gun looms close and huge. The rest

My throat tightens…

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

know that

its owner.

heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and

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

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

It might have been full of women offering their

never seen her dressed like this, not even in her

one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye

She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides

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