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 him an

practice against right-handers.

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

his neck but as he swings away, my fist lands

forward, reaching for his

right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

away from my right

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

Baxter, she charges between

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

his blade

The rasp of

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment, the

nipping at the vein, he reaches

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead,

use

got the balls

elbows I swing round wildly, one

There are none.

up the barrel of my own

Is this it?

time… this is how I

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

I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

these moments. The brain does odd things under extreme

think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife

I know

swing to its owner.

close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs

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

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch

have never seen her dressed like this, not even

curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him to do

silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth

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