Hot Revenge Box Set 4

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

jeans and boots he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit sweater… “…I’m going to take Oliver

is indeed a lovely day, with a crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine is that brilliant clear white you only get in

could use the exercise. Um…” I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying, with unformed

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

me five minutes, just while Cara

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

*****

ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over me with

tug down the neck of my roll-top pullover. “Two woollens, a

lips twitch, then he stoops by Charlie, locking his hands into a cup. “C’mon, I’ll give

neck. “Shhhh… Calm down.

the yard, he says, “I thought we might take the path through the top field then loop

“Great idea.”

*****

my wonderful Master, riding together as though there were no-one else 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, everything about

run,” says my Master, then eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring under me. “They both do. They’ll settle after they’ve burned off

the

fence. No jumping. That gate

his final words are lost to the wind as I kick heels at Charlie, and she moves from trot to canter to gallop in

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

to a standstill and I do the same. I’m grinning like a maniac, panting, my blood racing. My

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

reaches out, lifting the long arm of the gate latch to let me through,

follow the bridle path that will take

there’s something I want to