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

myself upright. But a stab of pain at my ankle competes with the rebellion of my stomach. My guts heave and the

away with the back of my

Someone giggles.

fingertips too are sticky with something

?

makes sense. Every part of me screams protest as, stiff-muscled, my body torpid, I try

bite at 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,

I look up and around, take

a small area around me, three or four yards,

Jose stands beside her. Between them and me, trickled over

lips. “You won’t escape that padlock, Larry. I chose it especially

her fingers, glinting dully: a small brass key: She passes it to Jose,

Larry?” 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

smell says that. The walls and floor 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: some dry, some

Sewers?

sharp dark shadows. And set in the wall behind Juliana, towards the ceiling,

consistent, Juliana. I’ll say that for you. You imprisoned Jenny below ground in primitive conditions. Now

She squats down, noticeably well to her side of the painted line,

in the eye, “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…

face. “Oh, yes, you like cellars. I remember that about you. I remember those cellars so well. We all spent time there; with the rats for company and knowing the bodies of the

don’t move, try

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 closer, hissing

trying to inject some venom, but it’s false bravado and

Jose. “You still have

“Of course.”

“Give it to me.”

She turns it over in her hands, examining it, as though she has never seen such a thing before. Then,

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 always

to do with you? I haven't decided properly yet, you know.” She aims at my forehead. “I might just shoot

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 do you think, Larry? A foot maybe? Perhaps the

force myself to

In… Out… In… Out…

these games: making the victim collaborate in

nose of the barrel drifts between my feet. “Which will it be, Larry? Left or right? If you don't

Fuck this…

right, Larry? Time to

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

cold. “Leave me with gunshot wounds down here, Juliana, and they'll be infected

gives a quick, sharp

folded, legs akimbo; radiating machismo. “All

as long as Solana chooses to keep you that way. I don’t think you have more than a few days. And they’re

one in trouble, Jose? If your only use to Juliana was to make me her prisoner, your life expectancy

out late. “… Sola can do what she wants with you. No one else knows you’re

then around his neck, as though to kiss him. “As you say, Jose,

can he not see

around her, smiles in his belief that they are

Dumb bastard…

“Hey, look out. She's...”

wrapped

I’m

the Glock

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