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

Well used…

Left-handed…

gives him an

practice against right-handers. I've

Fast. Teeth

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

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

from me and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and

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

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

hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

he swerves away from my right hand, my

rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

and Baxter, she charges between

staggering back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms

I go down...

on

…

gasp as his blade slices across

The rasp

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the

nipping at the vein, he reaches into

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he

use

got the balls for

round wildly, one way or the

There are none.

straight up the barrel of my

Is this it?

this time… this is

have died over the

for something I

Live by the sword…

how the mind works at these moments. The brain does odd things under

don’t think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

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

know

to its owner. So do

skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist

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

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

been full of women offering their all. But nothing

dressed like this, not even

to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter

a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides the

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