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

Master stands by the nursery door, wearing the jeans and boots he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit sweater… “…I’m going

to the air. And the sunshine

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

keep an eye on Cara.” My Mom smiles from

me five minutes,

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 need,” he says. “I’ll

*****

for you.” Straightening up, he runs over me

a

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

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

might take the path through the top field

“Great idea.”

*****

is firm with the cold and Oliver is trying to take the bit. Head tossing, his

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

the end of the

to the fence. No

and she moves from trot to canter

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 neck

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

was great.” I scan the field, 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

the long arm of the gate latch to let me through, clucks Oliver along behind me,

take us

there’s something I

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