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 cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives

practice against right-handers.

Fast. Teeth

jerk back and he follows through, but I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching…

grins, then grunts as I lash for his neck but as he swings

following up on my advantage, I bully forward,

chest with my right hand and he twists away,

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

from my right hand,

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her. The Indian

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

my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on top of

…

gasp as his

rasp of

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

his moment, the knife poised at

point nipping at the vein, he reaches

My Glock?

my forehead,

not use the

got the balls for

elbows I swing round wildly, one

There are none.

barrel of my own fucking

Is this it?

this is how

ways I could have died over the years,

something I

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain

don’t think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an unarmed man. And he’s

know

swing to its owner.

her close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch

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

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

of women offering their all. But nothing compares to Mitch in all her

seen her dressed like this, not even

lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter

a finger into

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255