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…

that gives him

practice against right-handers.

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

follows through, but I grab him by the arm. We

I

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

but as he swings away, my

forward, reaching for his blade,

right hand and he twists away, still grinning

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges

my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling

I go down...

on top

…

My gasp as his blade slices across

rasp of

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment, the knife poised

he reaches into his jacket, he takes

My Glock?

for my forehead, he backs

not use the

the

wildly, one way or the other,

There are none.

straight up the barrel of my own fucking gun

Is this it?

this time… this is how

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

I didn’t

Live by the sword…

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

don’t think

The rest of the world

My throat tightens…

honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an unarmed man. And

I know

its owner. So

the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears

shoulders and frames a face made

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

brothel. It might have been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch in

never seen her dressed like this, not even in her

lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter

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

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