Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 39

Back in the lounge, Cara is sitting on Mitch’s knee. “Getting into practice?” I ask.

Hope and tears war in her voice. “I suppose.” Then as Cara stretches chubby arms out to me. “I think she wants a hug.”

My baby daughter gives me a gummy smile as I pick her up, cradling her to my chest and bouncing her a bit. “You been a good girl then?”

A burble is my only reply, but Georgie looks at me a little oddly. “You never used to do that with me.”

“In fact, Georgie, I did. But your mother didn't like it. She always took you away from me when she could.”

She frowns. “Mom stopped you picking me up?”

“That’s right.”

“But…why would she do something like that?”

I shrug. “I suppose she wanted control of you.” I speak off-handedly, but suddenly, the conversation is uncomfortable. “Mitch I’m making tea. Peppermint for you?”

*****

 

Klempner

Nightmares…

The world spinning…

A face… Juliana, grinning at me… Her teeth sharp and pointed, like a cat’s.

Pain… Something gnawing at me, some monster biting at my ankle.

I know I’m in a nightmare, but I can’t jolt myself out of sleep. Sickeningly, the world spins and wavers around me. I want to retch, but my sleep-bound body won’t let me.

*****

Harsh white light filters through my lashes to stab at crusty eyes. The world still revolves. Or is it me that’s turning?

Consciousness returns only slowly, one sensation after another settling enough to make sense of them.

The spinning around me slowly dies and my world settles. I’m chilled and numb. Pain stabs behind my eyes and as I move, my stomach threatens rebellion. Gradually, it comes to me that, while my shoulder muscles burn, my hands are free.

A male voice: “He should be awake now, shouldn’t he?”

A female voice: “Yes. I didn’t give him much. He should be awake by now. He’s probably faking it.”

Just lie here…

Eyes closed…

Listen…

I’m lying on some cold, hard surface, slick with damp, coated with Christ-knows-what unnamable muck. And for some reason, I’m stretched out full-length, one arm reaching out above my head.

The male voice again: “Wakey, wakey, Larry.” And something plants itself in my ribs, whoofing the air out of my lungs.

Instinctively I roll, snatching for a foot, a leg, a fist: but I catch only empty air. Then I pull up short, with the clink of metal and something biting into my ankle.

What the hell…?

The air stinks. A fetid smell; stagnant water and the rank scent of decay, washes over me. All without meaning to, I react, covering my mouth and nose with my hand before realising that my hand is part of the smell, foul with slime and muck.

Somewhere close by: a trickling sound, and the slap of water against hard sides.

Where the fuck am I?

Oddly out of place, the smell of fresh paint tickles my nostrils.

The male voice again. “He’s awake for sure. He opened his eyes just then, but closed them again.” The words sound far away, as though carried through a tunnel. My eyes won’t focus properly. Nor my head: stuffed and unclear.

you awake again. How it’s going?” The

gummy eyes, I try to haul myself upright. But a stab of pain at my ankle competes with the rebellion of my stomach. My guts heave and the sad remains

it away with the back of my hand succeeds only in smearing foul muck

Someone giggles.

close to my face, I realise my fingertips too are sticky with something besides the filth: white, already drying, crisping

?

achy. My thoughts too. Nothing makes sense. Every part of me screams protest as, stiff-muscled, my body torpid, I try again to raise myself into

That bite at my ankle again,

reach for my ankle, finding a steel cuff, snapped closed. And as my vision clears, I see a padlock. With leaden fingers, I

in short gasps, finally I look up and around,

white, But it quickly fades, illuminating only a small area around me, three or four yards, before fading to an impenetrable

sitting on a fold-up wooden chair. Jose stands beside her. Between them and me, trickled over muck

slight smile playing over her lips. “You won’t escape that padlock, Larry. I chose it

up, dangling it in her fingers, glinting dully: a small brass key: She passes it to Jose, who hangs it on a nail banged into

Juliana rises from her chair, to stand a little distance from me, smirking. “Don’t worry, the nausea will pass… Or…” She sweeps an arm around… “Or maybe it won’t. I’d like to think you get the benefit of the

are concrete. Beside me, the floor drops away to a channel containing an uncertain depth of oozing water. Rusted metal grates obstruct narrow black unknowns:

Sewers?

bulb, marks out the confined space with sharp dark shadows. And set in the wall behind Juliana, towards

you. You imprisoned Jenny below ground in primitive conditions. Now

teeth. “There’s no plan about it, Larry. I’ve done it.” She squats down, noticeably well to her side of the painted

that bastard Jenkins…” Her lips curls…”That fucking perv you put in charge… Whenever either of you felt like handing it out

yes, you like cellars. I remember that about you. I remember those cellars so well. We all spent time

don’t comment, don’t move, try

you do remember. Since you’re so fond of tunnels and dark places, this is your life now… for as much of it as you have left.” She leans

the words at her, trying to inject some venom, but it’s false bravado and we

to Jose. “You still have

“Of course.”

“Give it to me.”

over in her hands, examining it, as though she has never seen such a thing before. Then, holding it loosely, almost negligently, she waves it through the air, the muzzle almost-but-not-quite aimed at

She won’t shoot…

She’s a gloater…

doesn’t want me

Not yet….

But my breath holds…

apparently randomly, first one way, then the other,

What am I going to do with you? I haven't decided properly yet, you know.” She aims at my forehead. “I might just shoot you dead. Bang! Bang!…” She mimes firing… Fake recoil with each Bang… “…Just like that…” Then she sniffs.

me, as though it were a genuine question, as though, waiting

the other hand…” she muses… “… I could take you a piece at a time.” She stares upward, as though addressing the ceiling. “What do you think, Larry? A

force myself to

In… Out… In… Out…

about these games: making the victim collaborate in their

Larry? Left or right? If you don't choose, of course,

Fuck this…

or right, Larry?

Keep calm…

Don't panic…

Baxter…

face splits into a pumpkin smile and she widens her eyes at me… “… It's not as though you’re going to need it again. I'll leave you the other one for a bit. You’ll want to stand

with gunshot wounds down here, Juliana, and they'll be infected within hours. I'd be dead of sepsis or gangrene within days. I'm guessing that

lowering the muzzle of the Glock. “Quite right, Larry.” She gives a quick, sharp nod. “It's good we understand each other...” She looks toward

arms folded, legs akimbo; radiating machismo. “All your enemies

you that way. I don’t think you have more than a few days. And they’re

think I’m the one in trouble, Jose? If your only use to Juliana was to make me

he can’t stay out late. “… Sola can do what she wants with you. No one else knows you’re here.

one hand over his cheek, then around his neck, as

he not see

slips arms around her, smiles in his

Dumb bastard…

“Hey, look out. She's...”

wrapped up

I’m too

of the Glock pressed

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