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...

eight inches. Well

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him an

practice against right-handers.

out. Hard. Fast.

but I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my throat. My hand locked

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

from me and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back recovering

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

I bully forward, reaching for his

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand is

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her.

to me and Baxter, she charges between us and

back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

gasp as his blade slices

rasp of

metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

he hovers, enjoying his moment,

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

My Glock?

for my

use

the

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

There are none.

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

Is this it?

this time… this is

Of all the ways I could have died over

something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments.

don’t think I’m

but the muzzle of the gun looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes around me. My

My throat tightens…

The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an

I know

to its

six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front

hair tumbles gloriously over smooth white shoulders and frames a face

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

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

never seen her dressed like this, not even in her

to strike a pose. And with an

open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides the tag

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