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…

gives

against right-handers.

Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

arm.

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

I'm overreaching…

I lash for his neck but as he swings

on my advantage, I bully forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out

slash at his chest with my right hand and he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to

staggering back, my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

his blade slices

rasp of shredding

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised

reaches into his jacket, he takes out a

My Glock?

my

not use the

got the

elbows I swing round wildly,

There are none.

straight up the barrel of my own

Is this it?

all this time… this is how

could have died over the years, I’m taken out by a shite like

for something I

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain does odd things under

don’t think

close and huge. The rest of the

My throat tightens…

the real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an unarmed man. And he’s

I know

its owner.

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

frames a face made

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

full of women offering their

have never seen her dressed like this, not even in her

a pose.

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

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