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

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him

right-handers.

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

breaks away, dancing back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back

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

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

right hand and he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

not. Just well-practised. As he swerves away from

rib

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

on top of

…

his blade slices

rasp of shredding

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

me, grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his

vein, he reaches

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead,

use the

got the balls for

wildly,

There are none.

up the barrel of

Is this it?

this is how

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

for something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

at these moments. The brain

don’t think

looms close and huge. The

My throat tightens…

aren't you just the real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife

know

swing to 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 a narrow

frames a face

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

have been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares

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

one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And

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

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