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

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

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

tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in the cot,

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

give me five minutes, just while Cara drops

cheek. His face might seem impassive to any that didn’t know him,

*****

girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up,

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

his hands into a cup. “C’mon, I’ll give

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 Master to

we might take the path through the top field then loop back for the trail

“Great idea.”

*****

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

performing, jarring

the end of

fence.

heels at Charlie, and

as her son

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 good to see you smiling properly at

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

long arm of the gate latch to let me through,

the bridle path that will take us to the trail through the

I

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