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 used…

Left-handed…

that gives him

right-handers. I've

Hard. Fast.

but I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my throat. My hand

close, I

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

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

advantage, I bully forward, reaching

right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he doesn't

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my left

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

and Baxter, she charges between us and

staggering back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

his

The rasp of

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his

nipping at the vein, he reaches into his jacket, he

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he backs

not use the

got the

round wildly, one way

There are none.

staring straight up the barrel of my own fucking gun and to Baxter’s

Is this it?

this time… this is how

with irritation. Of all the ways I could have died over the years, I’m taken out

something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

these moments.

don’t think

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

My throat tightens…

voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun

know that

to its owner. So

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

and frames a face made up

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

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

never seen her dressed like

pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him to do his

open silver loop. She hooks a finger

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