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

Well used…

Left-handed…

gives

against right-handers. I've done

Fast.

by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

suddenly I'm overreaching…

lash for his neck but as he swings away, my fist lands in

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

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

away from my right

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

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

my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

his blade slices across

rasp of

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

his moment, the knife poised at

the vein, he reaches into his jacket, he

My Glock?

aiming for my

not use

the

on my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or the other, searching for

There are none.

of my own fucking gun and to Baxter’s crocodile

Is this it?

time… this is how I

wars with irritation. Of all the ways I could have died over the years,

something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain

think

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

My throat tightens…

in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and

know

to its owner. So

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

shoulders and frames a face

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

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

have never seen her dressed like this, not even

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

finger into the loop and

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