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 used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him

against right-handers.

Hard. Fast. Teeth

him by the arm. We

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

breaks away, dancing back from me and suddenly I'm

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

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

with my right hand and he twists

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

not. Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my

rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the

staggering back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms

I go down...

on

…

as his

The rasp

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment, the

nipping at the vein, he reaches into his

My Glock?

my forehead, he

use

got the

my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or the other, searching for

There are none.

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

Is this it?

this is how I

could have died over the

for something I

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments. The brain does odd

don’t think

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

My throat tightens…

honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun

know that

its

matching skirt

and frames a face made up with

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

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

dressed like this, not even

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

finger into the loop

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