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 cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

that gives

right-handers. I've

Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

follows through, but I grab him by the arm. We

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

breaks away, dancing back from me and suddenly I'm

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

forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out with my

slash at his chest with my right hand and he twists

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

As he swerves away from my right hand, my

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

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

my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

as his blade slices

rasp of

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment,

vein, he reaches

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead,

use

the balls

swing round wildly, one

There are none.

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

Is this it?

this is how

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

for something I

Live by the sword…

how the mind works at these moments.

think

The rest of the world

My throat tightens…

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

I know

eyes swing to its owner. So do

matching skirt just clears the

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

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch in all

dressed like this, not

little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on

hooks a finger

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