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.

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and

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

advantage, I bully forward, reaching for

hand and

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

from my right hand, my left hand is

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

her.

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

back, my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

on top of

…

gasp as his blade slices across

rasp of

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

he reaches into his

My Glock?

and aiming for my forehead, he

use

got the

my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or

There are none.

up, I’m staring straight up the barrel of my own fucking gun and to

Is this it?

all this time… this is

I could have died

something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

how the mind works at these moments. The brain does odd

don’t think I’m

huge. The rest of

My throat tightens…

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

know that

its owner. So do

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

gloriously over smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

brothel. It might have been full of women offering their

have never seen her dressed like

leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with

an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop

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