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...

eight inches. Well cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

that gives him

against right-handers. I've done

Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

I'm overreaching… off-balance…

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

advantage, I bully forward, reaching for

with my right hand and he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

from my right hand, my left hand is coming

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The Indian

to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the

my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

gasp as his blade

The rasp of shredding

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised

nipping at the vein, he reaches into

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead,

not use the

the balls

up on my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or the other, searching for

There are none.

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

Is this it?

all this time… this is

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

something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

moments. The brain does

don’t think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

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

know that

swing to its owner.

heels. The matching skirt just

shoulders and frames a face made up

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch

dressed like

to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him

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

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