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...

eight inches. Well cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

that gives

right-handers. I've

stabs out. Hard. Fast.

through, but I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my throat. My hand locked to his

I

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

his neck but as he swings away, my fist lands in his

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

right hand and he twists away,

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from my right

rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her. The Indian

Baxter, she charges between us and

back, my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

his blade

rasp of

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

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

My Glock?

for my

use the

got the balls

my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or

There are none.

the barrel of my own fucking gun and to

Is this it?

this is how I

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

I

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments. The

don’t think

of the gun looms close and huge. The rest

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

to its owner. So

The matching skirt

smooth white shoulders and frames a face made

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

of women offering their all. But nothing

seen her dressed like this, not even in her

to strike a pose. And with an

tag dangles, an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides the tag

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