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…

gives

against right-handers. I've

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back recovering my

grunts as I lash for his neck but as he swings away,

forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out

and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

As he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her.

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

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

My gasp as his blade slices

The rasp

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

his moment, the knife poised

he reaches into

My Glock?

aiming for my

not use the

got the

up on my elbows I swing round wildly,

There are none.

up the barrel of my own fucking gun and

Is this it?

this is

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

for something I

Live by the sword…

at these moments. The brain does odd things under extreme

think

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

My throat tightens…

the real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an unarmed man. And

I know

swing to its owner.

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

shoulders and frames a face made

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

of women offering their all. But nothing compares

her dressed like this, not even in her ‘professional’

to strike a pose.

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

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