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 him an

practice against right-handers. I've done

Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull

grins, then grunts as I lash for his neck but

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

right hand and he twists away, still grinning

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

I’m not. Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

her. The Indian

and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the silly

back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

on top of

…

My gasp as his blade

The rasp

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the

the vein, he reaches into his jacket, he takes out a

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead,

not use

the

up on my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or the other,

There are none.

straight up the barrel of my own fucking gun and

Is this it?

time… this is how I

Of all the ways I could have died over the years, I’m

for something I

Live by the sword…

the mind works at these moments. The brain does odd things

don’t think I’m

The rest of the world vanishes around me. My

My throat tightens…

and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an unarmed man. And

I know that

its owner. So do

skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist and full

gloriously over smooth white shoulders and frames a face made

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

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

I have never seen her dressed like this, not even in her

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

finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides

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