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…

I order

*****

Charlotte

he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit

with a crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine is that brilliant clear white you only

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

on Cara.” My Mom smiles from

five minutes, just while Cara

can.” 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 see the hidden smile behind his eyes. Our daughter burbles a bit but doesn’t seem to mind. “Take all the time you

*****

girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over me with his

a cotton top

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

stamping and snorting, eager to be off. My Master slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh…

we might take the

“Great idea.”

*****

simply magical: just me and 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,

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

you to the

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

Charlie, and she moves from trot to canter to gallop in fewer hoofbeats than

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,

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

stretching down the 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 to move again properly. Sometimes, it’s just good to be alive, isn’t

the long arm of the gate latch to

that will take us to the trail through

there’s something I