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…

gives him

against right-handers. I've done

out. Hard. Fast.

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

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

then grunts as I lash for his neck but as he swings away, my fist lands in

forward, reaching for his blade,

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

rib

Got you, you bastard…

her.

and Baxter,

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

as his

rasp of shredding

The metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

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

point nipping at the vein, he reaches into his jacket, he takes out

My Glock?

and aiming for my

not use the

got the

wildly, one way or the

There are none.

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

Is this it?

this

I could have died over the years, I’m taken

for something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

works at these moments.

don’t think

the gun looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes around me. My peripheral

My throat tightens…

real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an

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 crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist

a face made up with emerald eyes painted Goth-dark and fuck-me

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

full of women offering

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

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

tag dangles, an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth

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