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

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

with a crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine is that brilliant clear white you only get in cold

to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying, with unformed muscles,

Cara.” My Mom smiles from her

minutes, just while Cara

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

*****

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

of my roll-top pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton top and a thermal vest Mom insisted I

lips twitch, then he stoops by Charlie, locking his hands into a cup.

to be off. My Master slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck.

might take

“Great idea.”

*****

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.

jarring under me.

to the

a finger. “Only to the fence. No jumping. That gate is

the wind as I kick heels at Charlie, and she moves from trot to canter to gallop in fewer hoofbeats than I

steam as he pulls ahead. But as her son begins to draw away, Charlie jolts under me with another burst of

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

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 able to move again properly. Sometimes, it’s just good to be alive,

it is.” He reaches out, lifting the long arm of the gate latch to

the bridle path that will take us to

there’s something I want to ask

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