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 used…

Left-handed…

gives him

practice against right-handers.

Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

for his neck but as he swings away, my fist

I bully forward,

with my right hand and he twists away, still grinning

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

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

the rib

Got you, you bastard…

her. The

apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us

back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

on

…

his blade slices across

The rasp

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife

the vein, he reaches into his jacket, he takes out a

My Glock?

my

use

the balls

my elbows I swing round wildly,

There are none.

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

Is this it?

all this time… this is how

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

something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The

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…

real man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in

know

its

spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and the zip-front leather vest hugs a narrow

frames a face made up with

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

be a brothel. It might have been full of women offering their

dressed like this,

strike a pose. And with an eye

tag dangles, an open silver loop. She hooks a finger

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

Comments ()

0/255