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

Well used…

Left-handed…

that gives him an

right-handers. I've

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

for his neck but as he swings

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

with my right hand and he twists away, still

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

rib

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

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

back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

on top of

…

his blade slices

The rasp of

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

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

at the vein, he reaches into his

My Glock?

my forehead,

use

the

round wildly, one way or

There are none.

up, I’m staring straight up the barrel of my own fucking gun and to Baxter’s crocodile

Is this it?

all this time… this is how I

all the ways I could have died over the

something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain does odd

don’t think

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

My throat tightens…

voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a

know that

swing to its owner. So do

set her close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist

smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with emerald

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

full of women offering their all. But

her dressed like

little curved to strike a pose. And with an

finger into the loop and tooth

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