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 another

*****

 

Charlotte

and boots he uses for riding, and

day, with a crisp snap to the air. And

blinking at the mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying, with unformed muscles, to reach for

smiles from her rocking chair

me five minutes, just while Cara drops

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,

*****

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

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

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

him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s

take the path

“Great idea.”

*****

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,

my Master, then eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring under me. “They both do. They’ll settle

the

to the fence.

the wind as I kick heels at Charlie, and

first closing behind me, then alongside, 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

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 good to see

and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue from their nostrils. “It’s

long arm of the gate latch to

bridle path that will take us to the trail

I want to ask

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