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 him an

practice against right-handers.

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

for his neck but as he swings away, my

on my advantage, I bully forward, reaching

with my right hand and he twists

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her.

me and Baxter, she charges between

back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling

I go down...

on

…

gasp as his

rasp

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

me, grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

nipping at the vein, he reaches into

My Glock?

for my forehead,

not use

got the balls for

wildly, one way or the

There are none.

barrel of

Is this it?

all this time… this is

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

I

Live by the sword…

how the mind works at these moments. The

don’t think

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

My throat tightens…

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

I know that

swing to its

the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the

over smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

might be a brothel. It might have been full of women

seen her dressed like this, not even in

chin lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him to do his

a finger into the loop and tooth by

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