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...

eight inches. Well

Well used…

Left-handed…

Thinks that gives him an

right-handers.

Fast.

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

I

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

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

my right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my right

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

pelting for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter,

my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling for

I go down...

on

…

his blade

rasp of shredding

metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

me, grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment,

he reaches into his jacket, he takes out a

My Glock?

for my forehead, he backs

not use the

got the balls for

I swing round wildly,

There are none.

of my own fucking gun and to Baxter’s crocodile

Is this it?

this is

irritation. Of all the ways I could have died over the years, I’m taken

something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The

don’t think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a

know that

swing to its owner. So

to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just

smooth white shoulders and frames a face

“Mitch?”

admit it.

So does Baxter.

full of women offering

like this, not even in her

stands tall, chin lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him

dangles, an open silver loop. She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by tooth, slides the

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