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 cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

gives him an

practice against right-handers.

stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

but I grab him by the arm. We grapple.

I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching… off-balance… and I pull back recovering my

neck but as he swings away,

advantage, I bully forward, reaching for his blade,

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

away from my right hand, my left hand is coming

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

her.

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

staggering back, my foot skids on

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

My gasp as his blade slices

The rasp of

The metallic tang of

Whose?

Mine…

grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the

vein, he reaches into his jacket, he takes out

My Glock?

and aiming for my

not use the

got the balls for

swing round wildly, one way or

There are none.

staring straight up the barrel of my

Is this it?

this is how

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

for something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

moments.

think

close and huge. The rest of the world vanishes around me. My peripheral vision grows

My throat tightens…

voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero

know that

swing to its owner. So

thigh boots set her close to six feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just

and frames a face made up with emerald

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

full of women offering

have never seen her dressed like this, not even in her ‘professional’

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

hooks a finger into

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