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

against right-handers. I've

Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

grunts as I lash for his neck but

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

with my right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The Indian

me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid

my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

as his blade slices across

rasp of shredding

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

his moment, the knife

reaches into his jacket, he takes out

My Glock?

for my forehead, he

not use

the balls for

wildly, one way or the other,

There are none.

barrel of

Is this it?

this time… this is

could have died over the years,

I

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments. The brain

don’t think I’m

looms close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes around me. My peripheral vision grows

My throat tightens…

sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife

know

its owner. So

heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow waist and full

a face made up with emerald eyes

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

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

never seen her dressed like

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

open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth

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