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 used…

Left-handed…

that gives him

right-handers. I've done

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and

lash for his neck but as he

my advantage, I bully forward,

with my right hand and he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

from my right hand, my left

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

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

staggering back, my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling

I go down...

on top

…

gasp as his blade

The rasp of shredding

The metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

me, grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

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

My Glock?

for my forehead,

use

got the balls

I swing 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?

this time… this is how

died over the years, I’m taken out by a

something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain does odd things

think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

you just the real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a

I know

swing to its owner. So

heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist and full

and frames a face made up with emerald eyes painted Goth-dark

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

might be a brothel. It might have been full of women offering their

never seen her dressed like this, not even in

stands tall, chin lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him

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

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

Comments ()

0/255