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.

Larry. Good to see you awake again. How it’s going?” The female voice

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 of

mouth and spatters my chin. Wiping it away with the back of my hand succeeds only in smearing foul muck over my

Someone giggles.

are sticky with something

?

part of me screams protest as, stiff-muscled, my body torpid, I try again to

That bite at my ankle again, something clinking

I 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 sluggishly: it’s good quality, the steel polished and new. My feet are bare; there’s no sign

gasps, finally I look up and around, take in

a small area around me,

fold-up wooden chair. Jose stands beside her. Between them and me, trickled over muck and slime, a thick white line is

“You won’t

she holds something 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 the concrete

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 accommodation I’ve chosen for you.” She pauses, I assume for effect, letting

says that. The walls and floor are concrete. Beside me, the floor drops away to a channel containing an uncertain depth of oozing

Sewers?

overhead bulb, marks out the confined space with sharp dark shadows. And set in the wall behind Juliana, towards the ceiling, a camera eye aims

my cheeks before I speak, “You’re consistent, Juliana. I’ll say that for you. You imprisoned Jenny below ground in primitive conditions. Now you plan to do the

displays teeth. “There’s no plan about it, Larry. I’ve done it.” She squats down,

“And where d’you think I learned it, Larry? Locked up in your cellars at Blessingmoors, whenever you or that bastard Jenkins…” Her lips curls…”That fucking perv you put in charge… Whenever either of

well. We all spent time there;

pauses. I don’t comment, don’t move, try

chin, eyes slanting down to me, then continues…”That’s good. I can see 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

to inject some venom, but it’s false bravado

still have his

“Of course.”

“Give it to me.”

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

She won’t shoot…

She’s a gloater…

doesn’t want

Not yet….

But my breath holds…

one way,

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. “But that wouldn’t be so much fun,

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

take you a piece at a time.” She stares upward, as though addressing the ceiling. “What do you think, Larry?

force myself

In… Out… In… Out…

these games: making the victim collaborate in

feet. “Which will it be, Larry? Left or

Fuck this…

or right, Larry?

Keep calm…

Don't panic…

Baxter…

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

they'll be infected within hours. I'd be dead of sepsis or gangrene within

right, Larry.” She gives a quick,

machismo. “All

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

If your only use to Juliana was to make me her prisoner, your

“… Sola can do what she wants with you. No one else knows

cheek, then around his neck, as

he

smiles in his belief that they

Dumb bastard…

“Hey, look out. She's...”

too wrapped up in his

I’m too

the Glock

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