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

he uses for riding, and a

is indeed a lovely day, with a crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine is that brilliant

I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating

Cara.” My Mom smiles from her rocking chair next to mine. “She’ll probably sleep

minutes, just

Cara’s cheek. His face might seem impassive to any that didn’t know him, but I see the

*****

the stable, my Master glances up from where he is checking Charlie’s girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up,

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

lips twitch, then he stoops by Charlie, locking his hands

off. My Master slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s ears flick forward, but he settles long enough for my

thought we might take the path through the top field then loop

“Great idea.”

*****

world. The ground is firm with the cold

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

you to the

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

Charlie, and she moves from trot to canter to gallop in

closing behind me, 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 end of the field, Charlie and Oliver, mother and son, my Master and I, are

grinning like a maniac, panting, my blood racing. My Master’s eyes

the bottom, the air frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue from their nostrils. “It’s so good to be able

He reaches out, lifting the long arm of the gate latch to let me through, clucks Oliver along behind me, and lets the gate

the bridle path that will take us to

something I want

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