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…

Thinks that gives

practice against right-handers. I've done

Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

up on my advantage, I bully forward,

chest with my right hand and he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

from my right hand, my left hand is

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The Indian

exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I

back, my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

on

…

as his blade slices

The rasp of shredding

The metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

he hovers, enjoying his moment, the

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

My Glock?

for my forehead, he backs

not use

got the balls

swing round wildly, one

There are none.

I’m staring straight up the barrel of my own

Is this it?

this is

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

I didn’t

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain does odd things under

don’t think

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

My throat tightens…

smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an unarmed man.

know that

to its owner. So do

to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears

over smooth white shoulders and frames a face

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

women offering their all. But nothing

never seen her dressed like this, not even in

lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose.

open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the

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