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 used…

Left-handed…

that gives

practice against right-handers. I've done

Fast.

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

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

on my advantage, I bully forward, reaching for his

slash at his chest with my right hand and he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

he swerves away from my right hand, my

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The Indian

exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges

staggering back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

on top of

…

as his blade slices

rasp

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment,

he reaches into his

My Glock?

for my forehead, he backs

not use the

the balls

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

There are none.

the barrel of my own

Is this it?

all this time… this

died over the years, I’m taken out by

I didn’t

Live by the sword…

moments. The brain does odd things under extreme

think I’m

huge. The rest of the world vanishes around me. My peripheral

My throat tightens…

just the real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with

know that

its owner.

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

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

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch in

I have never seen her dressed like this, not even

a little curved to strike a pose.

tag dangles, an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255