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…

gives

against right-handers. I've

Fast. Teeth bared.

grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my throat. My hand

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

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

hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he doesn't

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her.

nowhere, pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

on

…

gasp as his blade slices across

rasp of

metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

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

reaches into his jacket, he takes

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead, he

not use the

got the balls

round wildly, one way or the other, searching

There are none.

barrel of my own

Is this it?

this time… this is

with irritation. Of all the ways I could have died over the years, I’m taken

for something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

moments. The

think I’m

of the gun looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes

My throat tightens…

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

I know that

swing to its

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?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

full of women offering their all.

like this, not even

to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him to do

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

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