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…

gives him an

right-handers. I've done

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

suddenly I'm overreaching…

grins, then grunts as I lash for his neck but as he

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

at his chest with my right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he doesn't

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

her.

to me and Baxter, she charges

staggering back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms

I go down...

on top

…

gasp as his blade

rasp of shredding

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

his moment, the knife poised

the vein, he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

my forehead, he

not use the

got the balls

elbows I swing round wildly, one way or the other,

There are none.

up the barrel of my own

Is this it?

this time… this is how

ways I could have died over the years,

I

Live by the sword…

works at these moments.

don’t think

and huge. The rest of the world vanishes around

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 against

know that

its owner. So do

matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest

over smooth white shoulders and frames a

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

brothel. It might have been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch

never seen her dressed like this, not even in her ‘professional’

to strike a pose. And with an

finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides

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