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…

Thinks that gives him an

practice against right-handers. I've done

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

away, dancing back from me and suddenly I'm

grunts as I lash for his neck but as he

up on my advantage, I bully forward, reaching for his

at his chest with my right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically,

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

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 silly

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

gasp as his blade

rasp of

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

his moment,

he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he

not use the

got the balls for

my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or

There are none.

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

Is this it?

this time… this is

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

for something I

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain does odd things under

think

muzzle of the gun looms close and huge. The rest

My throat tightens…

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

I know that

its

matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest

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

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

might have been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch

seen her dressed like this, not even in her

pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares

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

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