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…

Thinks that gives

against right-handers. I've

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

him by the arm. We

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

breaks away, dancing back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back

for his neck but as he

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

at his chest with my right hand and he twists

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand is

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

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

staggering back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

My gasp as his blade slices

rasp of shredding

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the

the vein, he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

aiming for my

use the

the balls for

on my elbows I swing round wildly, one

There are none.

barrel of my own fucking gun

Is this it?

this time… this is how

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

I

Live by the sword…

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

think

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

My throat tightens…

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

I know that

its owner. So

thigh 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

white shoulders and frames a face made up

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

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

seen her dressed like

curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that

finger into the loop and tooth

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