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 cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

that gives him an

against right-handers. I've done

Hard. Fast.

through, but I grab him by the arm. We

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

then grunts as I lash for his neck but

advantage, I bully forward, reaching for

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

Baxter, she charges between us and I twist

my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

on

…

My gasp as his blade slices across

The rasp of

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

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

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

My Glock?

and aiming for my

not use the

the balls for

swing round wildly, one way or the other, searching

There are none.

the barrel of my own fucking gun and to

Is this it?

all this time… this is how I

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

for something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain does odd things under

don’t think

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

My throat tightens…

the real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in

know that

to its owner. So do

thigh boots set her close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest

a face made

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

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

seen her dressed like

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

open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth

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