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. I've

Fast. Teeth

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

close, I smell

Sweat. Sour.

scent

Not excitement.

Fear.

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

neck but as he swings away, my fist lands

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

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

The other knife...

Ambidextrous?

swerves away from

the rib cage and

Got you, you bastard…

it’s her. The

blind to me and Baxter, she charges between us and I twist away to avoid slicing the

my foot skids

Drinks slops?

Blood?

In slow motion...

my arms wind-milling

I go down...

on top

…

My gasp as his blade slices across

The rasp of shredding

The metallic tang

Whose?

Mine…

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

point nipping at the vein, he reaches into

My Glock?

my forehead, he backs

not use

got the balls

up on my elbows I swing round wildly, one way

There are none.

I’m staring straight up the barrel of my own

Is this it?

this

I could have died over the years, I’m taken out

something I didn’t actually

Live by the sword…

mind works at these moments. The

think

but the muzzle of the gun looms close and huge. The rest

My throat tightens…

contempt in equal measure… “A hero with a gun and a knife against an unarmed

I know

to its owner. So do

spiked heels. The matching skirt just clears

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

“Mitch?”

it. I

So does Baxter.

be a brothel. It might have been full of women offering their all. But nothing

seen her dressed like this,

pose. And with an eye on Baxter that dares him

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

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