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...

maybe eight inches. Well

Well used…

Left-handed…

that gives

right-handers.

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth

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

close, I

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

dancing back from me and suddenly I'm overreaching…

as I lash for his neck but as he

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

chest with my right hand and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he doesn't

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

her.

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

back, my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling for

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

his blade slices across

rasp of shredding

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

his

he reaches

My Glock?

aiming for my forehead, he backs

not use

the

elbows I swing round wildly, one way

There are none.

up the barrel of

Is this it?

this is how I

died over the years, I’m

I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

the mind works at these moments.

don’t think

The rest of the

My throat tightens…

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

know that

swing to its owner.

heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and

hair tumbles gloriously over smooth white shoulders and frames a face made up with

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

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

have never seen her dressed like this, not even in

chin lifted, one leg a little curved to strike a pose. And with an eye on

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

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