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

practice against right-handers. I've

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

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

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

suddenly I'm overreaching…

his neck but as he swings away, my fist lands

I bully forward, reaching

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

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

back, my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

gasp as his blade

The rasp of shredding

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

at the vein, he reaches into his jacket, he

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he backs

use

the

on my elbows I swing round wildly, one

There are none.

staring straight up the barrel of my own

Is this it?

time… this is how

ways I could have died over the years, I’m taken

I

Live by the sword…

the mind works at these moments. The brain does odd

don’t think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

drips honey and contempt in

know that

swing to its

in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch

a face made up

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

been full of women

have never seen her dressed like this, not even

a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him

finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides

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