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

*****

 

Charlotte

nursery door, wearing the jeans and boots he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit

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

at the mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying, with unformed muscles, to reach for a glitter-pink

an eye on Cara.” My Mom smiles from her rocking chair

me five minutes, just while

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 with

*****

ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over me with his eyes. “You’re wearing plenty of layers? It’s

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

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

slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm

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

eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring under me. “They both

the end

to the fence. No jumping. That gate is too

Charlie, and she moves from trot to

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

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

bottom, the air frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue

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

take us

something I want to ask

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