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...

inches. Well cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

gives him an

against right-handers. I've

Fast.

arm. We grapple. His blade to

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

I lash for his neck but as he

bully forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out with my

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

from my right hand, my left hand is

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the

back, my foot

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

as his blade slices

rasp of shredding

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

his moment, the knife

at the vein, he reaches into

My Glock?

and aiming for my

not use the

got the balls

my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or

There are none.

the barrel of my

Is this it?

this

have died over the years, I’m taken out by a

for something I

Live by the sword…

at these moments. The brain does odd things under

think I’m

and huge. The rest of the world vanishes around

My throat tightens…

you just the real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A

I know that

its

boots set her close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist and full

tumbles gloriously over smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with emerald eyes painted Goth-dark and fuck-me

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

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

I have never seen her dressed like this,

pose. And with

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

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