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.

How it’s

of pain at my ankle competes with the rebellion of my stomach. My guts heave and the sad remains

sours my mouth and spatters my chin. Wiping it away with the

Someone giggles.

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

?

is cloudy, achy. My thoughts too. Nothing makes sense. Every part of me screams protest as, stiff-muscled, my

That bite at my ankle

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

I look up and

a small area

there, waiting, sitting on a fold-up wooden chair. Jose stands beside her. Between them and

watches me, a slight smile playing over her lips. “You won’t

it in her fingers, glinting dully: a small brass key: She passes it to Jose, who hangs it on

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.

drops away to a channel containing an uncertain depth of oozing water. Rusted metal grates obstruct narrow black unknowns: some dry,

Sewers?

dark shadows. And set in the wall behind Juliana, towards the ceiling, a camera eye aims at me,

for you. You imprisoned Jenny below ground in primitive conditions. Now you plan to do the same with

no plan about it, Larry. I’ve done it.” She squats down,

your cellars at Blessingmoors, whenever you or that bastard Jenkins…” Her lips curls…”That fucking perv you put in charge… Whenever either of you felt like handing it out to a lot of

that about you. I remember those cellars so well. We

don’t comment, don’t move, try not

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 closer, hissing the words. “What goes around,

inject some venom, but it’s false

“You still have

“Of course.”

“Give it to me.”

it from his pocket, passing it across grip first. She turns it 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,

She won’t shoot…

She’s a gloater…

she doesn’t want

Not yet….

But my breath holds…

barrel swings, apparently randomly, first one way, then the other, but

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. “But that wouldn’t be

at me, as though it were a genuine question, as though, waiting for an answer. She

muses… “… I could take you a piece at a time.” She stares upward, as though addressing the ceiling. “What

force myself to

In… Out… In… Out…

know all about these games: making the victim collaborate in their own

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

Fuck this…

right, Larry? Time to

Keep calm…

Don't panic…

Baxter…

the right one, I think…” Her 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.

skin streams cold. “Leave me with gunshot wounds down here, Juliana, and they'll be infected within hours. I'd be dead of

She gives a quick, sharp nod. “It's good we understand each

machismo. “All your enemies are

jerks his chin toward me… “You’re only alive as long as Solana chooses to keep you that way. I don’t think you have

I’m the one in trouble, Jose? If your only use to Juliana was to make me her prisoner, your life expectancy is down to

his eyes like some teenager told he can’t stay out late. “… Sola can do what she wants with you. No one else knows you’re here. She

am.” Juliana‘s lips curve, but Jose doesn't see the knife in the smile. She moves closer to him, slides one hand over his cheek, then around his neck, as though to kiss him. “As you say, Jose, only we know he’s here.” He doesn’t

he

slips arms around her, smiles in his belief that they are

Dumb bastard…

“Hey, look out. She's...”

too wrapped up in

and I’m

of the Glock pressed

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