Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 9

The coffee strong and fragrant, washes away my doubts and clears my thinking, although granted, it leaves me with my problem.

How to find Juliana?

And what is the significance of the invoice addresses?

I let my mind freewheel, caffeine lubricating the gears.

What's the connection?

?

?

Back to basics...

Finchby’s invoices...

Taken from his own files…

Supply addresses from legitimate businesses…

… Listing women, children… Human cargo.

???

That can't possibly be what went through the customs checks...

Duplicate documents then?

Same references. Same monetary values. Different cargo.

That would seem logical: A parallel accounting system: one for the outside world, one for private records.

Yes, that works. Any competent criminal could make that work. And doubtless, with the money involved, they’d have accountants and bookkeepers… Perhaps even customs officers and tax inspectors on the payroll.

But none of that gives me the connection to Antonio’s bar or any of the others.

Why here?

Frustrated, mind spiralling inward…

Damn the coffee…

order another

*****

 

Charlotte

the nursery door, wearing the jeans and boots he uses for riding,

snap to the air. And the sunshine

exercise. Um…” I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in

My Mom smiles from her rocking chair

you give me five minutes, just while

My Master takes the few steps to bring him close to me, then reaches down with a long finger, stroking Cara’s cheek. His face might seem impassive to any that didn’t know him, but I

*****

girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening

roll-top pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton top and a

stoops by Charlie, locking his hands into a cup. “C’mon, I’ll

up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s ears flick forward, but he settles long

we might take the path

“Great idea.”

*****

in the world. The ground is firm with the cold and Oliver is trying to take the bit. Head tossing, his gait dancing between a walk and a trot,

run,” says my Master, then eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring under me. “They both do. They’ll

the end of the

raises a finger. “Only to the fence. No jumping. That gate is too

Charlie, and she moves from

then alongside, snorting steam as he pulls ahead. But as her son begins to draw away, Charlie jolts under me with another burst of speed and as we reach the

the same. I’m grinning like a maniac, panting, my blood racing. My Master’s eyes are soft. “It’s

great.” I scan the field, stretching down the mountain, the lake glittering at the bottom, the air frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue

of the gate latch to let me through, clucks Oliver along behind me, and

follow the bridle path that will take us to the

I want to ask

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