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…

Thinks that gives

practice against right-handers. I've done

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

for his neck but as he swings

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

slash at his chest with my right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her.

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

my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

his blade

rasp

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

nipping at the vein, he reaches into his

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead, he

not use

got the

up on my elbows I swing round wildly, one

There are none.

of my own

Is this it?

this is how

wars with irritation. Of all the ways I could have died

something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

these moments. The brain does odd things under

think

but the muzzle of the gun looms close and huge. The rest

My throat tightens…

smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A

I know that

its owner. So

The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist and

smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch in all her

dressed like this, not

chin lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And

She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth

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