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 used…

Left-handed…

gives him

right-handers. I've done

Fast. Teeth bared.

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

I

Sweat. Sour.

scent of

Not excitement.

Fear.

away, dancing back from me and suddenly I'm

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

following up on my advantage, I bully forward,

and he twists away, still grinning manically, but he doesn't

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

I’m not. Just well-practised. As he swerves away from my right hand, my left hand

rib

Got you, you bastard…

her. The Indian

apparently blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I

back, my

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms wind-milling

I go down...

Baxter’s on

…

as his blade slices across

The rasp

The metallic

Whose?

Mine…

hovers, enjoying his moment, the knife poised at my

he reaches into his jacket, he takes

My Glock?

aiming for my

use the

got the balls for

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

There are none.

barrel of my

Is this it?

all this time… this is how

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

something I didn’t

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain does odd things

don’t think

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

My throat tightens…

man.” The voice is sultry, smooth, and drips honey and contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an unarmed man. And

I know that

to its owner.

feet in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the crotch and

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

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

might have been full of women offering

I have never seen her dressed like this,

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

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