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…

Thinks that gives

against right-handers.

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back

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

bully forward,

at his chest with my right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he doesn't

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

Just well-practised. As he swerves away from

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The Indian

out of nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she

staggering back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling for

I go down...

on

…

as his blade slices across

rasp of shredding

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment, the knife

at the vein, he reaches into

My Glock?

for my forehead,

not use

got the balls

I swing round wildly, one

There are none.

up the barrel of my own

Is this it?

all this time… this

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

something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

moments. The brain

don’t think I’m

and huge. The rest of the world vanishes

My throat tightens…

contempt in equal measure… “A hero

I know

its owner. So

skirt just clears the crotch and

and frames a face made up with emerald eyes painted

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

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

have never seen her dressed like this, not

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

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

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255