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

right-handers. I've

Fast. Teeth

grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

his neck but as he swings away, my fist lands in his

forward, reaching for his blade, slashing out

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

As he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

rib

Got you, you bastard…

her.

for the exit, apparently blind to me and Baxter,

staggering back, my foot

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

on

…

gasp as his

rasp

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

grinning maniacally, he hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

vein, he reaches into his jacket, he

My Glock?

and aiming for my

not use

the balls

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

There are none.

I’m staring straight up the barrel of

Is this it?

this is how

irritation. Of all the ways I could have died

for something I

Live by the sword…

these moments. The brain does

don’t think

huge. The rest of the world vanishes around me.

My throat tightens…

drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a

I know that

to its

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

a face

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

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

dressed like

to strike a pose.

a finger into the

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