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…

gives

practice against right-handers. I've

Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

grins, then grunts as I lash for his neck but

I bully forward, reaching for

slash at his chest with my right hand and he twists

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

from my right hand, my left hand

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her.

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

staggering back, my foot

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

on

…

gasp as his blade slices across

rasp

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

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

vein, he reaches into his jacket, he

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he

not use

the balls

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

There are none.

up, I’m staring straight up the barrel of my own fucking gun

Is this it?

all this time… this is how

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

for something I

Live by the sword…

how the mind works at these moments. The brain does

think I’m

The rest of the world vanishes around

My throat tightens…

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

I know that

eyes swing to its owner. So

boots set her close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the

smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

be a brothel. It might have been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares

dressed like this, not even in her ‘professional’

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

a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides

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