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 used…

Left-handed…

that gives

against right-handers.

Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching…

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

up on my advantage, I bully forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out with my

right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

I’m not. Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

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

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

on top of

…

his

The rasp of

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

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

point nipping at the vein, he reaches into

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead,

not use the

got the

swing round wildly,

There are none.

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

Is this it?

time… this is

I could have died over the years, I’m taken out by

I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

works at these moments.

don’t think

huge. The rest of the world vanishes around

My throat tightens…

honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with

know

its owner.

heels. The matching skirt just clears

and frames a face made up with emerald eyes painted

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

a brothel. It might have been full of women offering their all. But

like this, not

lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him to do his

a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth,

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