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?”

ankle competes with the rebellion of my stomach. My guts heave and the sad remains of my last meal spill over

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

Someone giggles.

my face, I realise my fingertips too are sticky with something besides the filth: white,

?

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

ankle again,

as my vision clears, I see a padlock. With leaden fingers, I feel at the metal, probing sluggishly: it’s good quality,

breath coming in short gasps, finally I look up and around,

bright, harsh and white, But it quickly fades, illuminating only a small area around me, three or four yards, before fading

and me, trickled over muck and slime, a thick white line is painted on the concrete

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

fingers, glinting dully: a small brass key: She passes it to Jose, who hangs it on a nail banged into the concrete wall,

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,

the floor drops away to a channel containing an uncertain depth of oozing

Sewers?

confined space with sharp dark shadows. And set in

I speak, “You’re consistent, Juliana. I’ll say that for you.

it, Larry. I’ve done it.” She squats down, noticeably well to her side of the painted

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

washing from her face. “Oh, yes, you like cellars. I remember that about you. I remember those cellars so well. We all spent time there; with the

I don’t comment, don’t

tunnels and dark places, this is your life now… for as much of

I spit the words at her, trying to inject

Jose. “You still

“Of course.”

“Give it to me.”

she has never

She won’t shoot…

She’s a gloater…

she doesn’t want

Not yet….

But my breath holds…

way, then the

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

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

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

force myself

In… Out… In… Out…

these games: making the victim collaborate in

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

Fuck this…

or right, Larry?

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

already chilled skin streams cold. “Leave me 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

“Quite right, Larry.” She gives a quick, sharp nod. “It's good we

machismo. “All your

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

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

do what she wants with you. No one else knows you’re here. She has her revenge. And

lips curve, but Jose doesn't see the knife in the smile. She moves closer to him, slides one hand over his cheek, then

he

in his belief that they

Dumb bastard…

“Hey, look out. She's...”

he’s too wrapped

I’m

of the Glock pressed into his

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