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...

maybe eight inches. Well

Well used…

Left-handed…

that gives him

practice against right-handers. I've done

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

arm. We grapple. His blade to my throat. My hand locked to

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

for his neck but as he swings away,

on my advantage, I bully forward, reaching

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

As he swerves away from my right hand,

rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

me and Baxter, she charges between

my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

gasp as his

rasp

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

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

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

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he backs

use

got the balls

I swing round wildly, one way or the other, searching

There are none.

up the barrel of

Is this it?

all this time… this is how

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

something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments.

don’t think

muzzle of the gun looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes around me. My peripheral

My throat tightens…

sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A

I know that

swing to its owner. So do

to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears

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

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch in all her

never seen her dressed like

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

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

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