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 cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him

practice against right-handers. I've done

Hard. Fast. Teeth

the arm.

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

me and suddenly I'm

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

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

hand and he twists away, still grinning manically,

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her.

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

back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms

I go down...

on

…

gasp as his

rasp of

metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

his moment, the knife poised at

nipping at the vein, he reaches into his

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead, he backs

not use the

got the balls for

wildly, one way

There are none.

straight up the barrel of

Is this it?

this is

irritation. Of all the ways I could have died

I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

at these moments. The brain does

think I’m

huge. The rest of the world vanishes around me. My peripheral

My throat tightens…

aren't you just the real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure…

know

swing to its

her close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and

over smooth white shoulders and frames a face

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

have been full of women offering their all. But nothing

her dressed like this, not even in her ‘professional’

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

a finger into the loop

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