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…

Thinks that gives

right-handers. I've done

Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

dancing back from me and suddenly I'm

for his neck but as he swings away, my fist

following up on my advantage, I bully forward, reaching for

with my right hand and he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

I’m not. Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing

my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

on top of

…

gasp as his blade

rasp of shredding

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at

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

My Glock?

my forehead, he

not use

the balls

my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or the

There are none.

up the barrel of my own fucking gun and to Baxter’s

Is this it?

this is

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

I

Live by the sword…

how the mind works at these moments. The brain does

don’t think

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

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

its owner. So

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

over smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

have been full of women offering their all.

her dressed like this, not even in

one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And

a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides the

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