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 him an

practice against right-handers.

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

and he follows through, but I grab him by the arm.

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

breaks away, dancing back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back recovering

as I lash for his neck but

advantage, I bully forward, reaching for his blade, slashing

my right hand and

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges

my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

My gasp as his blade slices across

The rasp

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

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

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

My Glock?

for my

not use the

got the balls for

I swing round wildly, one way or the other, searching for

There are none.

I’m staring straight up the barrel of my own

Is this it?

all this time… this is

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

I

Live by the sword…

these moments. The brain does odd things

think

looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes

My throat tightens…

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

know

to its owner.

matching skirt just clears the crotch

over smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

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

like this,

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

an open silver loop. She hooks a finger

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