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...

maybe eight inches. Well

Well used…

Left-handed…

gives him an

against right-handers. I've

Fast. Teeth bared.

the arm. We grapple. His blade to

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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 his

advantage, I bully forward,

at his chest with my right hand and

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from my right hand, my left

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

his

The rasp

The metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

me, grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the

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

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead, he

use the

got the balls

wildly, one way or the other,

There are none.

up, I’m staring straight up the barrel of

Is this it?

time… this is

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

I didn’t

Live by the sword…

these moments. The brain does odd

don’t think

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

My throat tightens…

and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with

know

its owner. So

feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist and

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

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

been full of women offering their all. But

I have never seen her dressed like this, not

pose. And with an eye on

open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides

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