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…

that gives

against right-handers. I've done

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

I bully forward, reaching for his blade, slashing

chest with my right hand and he twists

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

My gasp as his blade slices

The rasp of shredding

metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment, the

point nipping at the vein, he reaches into his jacket,

My Glock?

for my forehead, he

use

the balls

up on my elbows I swing round wildly, one way or the

There are none.

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

Is this it?

time… this is

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

I

Live by the sword…

moments. The

don’t think

of the gun looms close and huge. The

My throat tightens…

in equal measure… “A

I know that

swing to its owner.

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

frames a face

“Mitch?”

admit it. I

So does Baxter.

might have been full of women offering their all. But nothing compares to

like this, not

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

silver loop. She hooks a finger into the

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