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 used…

Left-handed…

that gives him

right-handers. I've done

Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

I bully forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

out of nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she

back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms

I go down...

on top

…

gasp as his

The rasp of

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

hovers, enjoying his moment,

the vein, he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he

use

got the balls

I swing round wildly,

There are none.

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

Is this it?

this time… this is how I

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

I

Live by the sword…

the mind works at these moments. The

think

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

My throat tightens…

voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure…

know

to its owner.

skirt just clears the crotch and

smooth white shoulders and frames a

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

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

her dressed like this, not even in her ‘professional’

one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye

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

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