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

practice against right-handers. I've

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

he follows through, but I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I

grins, then grunts as I lash for his neck but as he swings

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

hand and he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us

back, my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

on top

…

gasp as his blade slices

The rasp of

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

me, grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife

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

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead, he

use

got the balls

on my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or

There are none.

barrel of my own fucking gun and to Baxter’s

Is this it?

this time… this is how

died over the years, I’m

I

Live by the sword…

works at these moments.

think

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

My throat tightens…

drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun

know that

its owner.

matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest

and frames a

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

might have been full of women

never seen her dressed like this, not even in her ‘professional’

pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him

silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth

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