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

he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit sweater… “…I’m

air. And the sunshine is that brilliant clear white

exercise. Um…” I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating

on Cara.” My Mom smiles from her rocking chair next

minutes, just

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

*****

stable, my Master glances up from where he is checking Charlie’s girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over me with his eyes. “You’re wearing plenty of

“Two woollens, a cotton

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

My Master slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going

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

“Great idea.”

*****

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

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

you to the end of the

fence. No jumping. That

are lost to the wind as I kick heels at Charlie, and she moves from trot to canter to gallop in

as he pulls ahead. But as her son begins to draw

I do the same. I’m grinning like a maniac, panting,

the lake glittering at the bottom, the air frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie

gate latch to let me through,

bridle path that will take us to the trail through the

there’s something I want to

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