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…

I order

*****

 

Charlotte

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

air. And the

daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in

Cara.” My Mom smiles from her rocking chair next to mine.

you give me five minutes,

with a long finger, stroking Cara’s cheek. His face might seem impassive to any that didn’t know him, but I see the hidden smile behind his eyes.

*****

“All ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over me with his eyes. “You’re wearing plenty

“Two woollens, a cotton top and a thermal vest Mom insisted I

twitch, then he stoops by Charlie, locking his hands

stamping and snorting, eager to be 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

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

“Great idea.”

*****

The ground is firm with the cold and Oliver

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

the

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

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

as he pulls ahead. But as her son begins to draw away, Charlie jolts under me with another

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

the bottom, the air frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue from their nostrils. “It’s

to let me through, clucks Oliver

take us to the

something I want

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