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

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him an

against right-handers. I've done

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

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

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

I bully forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out with

chest with my right hand and

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

he swerves away from my right hand, my left

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

of nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the silly

back, my foot

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms

I go down...

on top of

…

My gasp as his blade slices

The rasp

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

his moment,

at the vein, he reaches

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he

not use the

the balls

round wildly, one

There are none.

staring straight up the barrel of my

Is this it?

time… this is how

died over the years, I’m taken out

I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments. The brain

think

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

My throat tightens…

and drips honey and contempt in equal measure…

I know

its owner.

heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the

white shoulders and frames a face made up with emerald

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

brothel. It might have been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to

her dressed like this, not even

chin lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with

loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides the tag

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