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 cared

Well used…

Left-handed…

gives him

against right-handers.

out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared.

by the arm. We grapple.

I

Sweat. Sour.

sour scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

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

advantage, I bully forward, reaching

and he twists away, still grinning manically, but

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

away from my right hand, my left

the rib cage

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her.

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

my foot

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

arms

I go down...

Baxter’s on top

…

My gasp as his blade slices

The rasp of

metallic

Whose?

Mine…

enjoying his moment,

reaches into his jacket, he takes

My Glock?

my forehead,

use the

the balls

I swing round wildly,

There are none.

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

Is this it?

all this time… this is how I

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

for something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

works at these moments. The brain does

think I’m

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

My throat tightens…

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

know that

its owner. So

in the spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears the

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

“Mitch?”

it.

So does Baxter.

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

have never seen her dressed like

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

She hooks a finger into the loop and tooth by

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