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 another

*****

Charlotte

door, wearing the jeans and boots he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit sweater… “…I’m going to take

a crisp snap to the air. And

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 glitter-pink

smiles from her rocking chair next to

minutes, just while Cara drops

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 need,” he says. “I’ll be

*****

where he is checking Charlie’s girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs

the neck of my roll-top pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton top and

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

runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down.

yard, he says, “I thought we might take the path

“Great idea.”

*****

ground is firm with the cold and Oliver is trying to take the

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

the

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

and she moves from trot to canter to gallop in fewer

for seconds do I have the lead. Oliver is larger and heavier, more powerful, than Charlie and almost immediately, he thunders up, 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,

and I do the same. I’m grinning like a maniac, panting, my blood racing.

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

it is.” He reaches out, lifting the long arm of the gate latch to let me through, clucks Oliver along

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

there’s something I want to ask