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…

order another

*****

Charlotte

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

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

to. And Charlie could use the exercise. Um…” I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying, with unformed

Mom smiles from her rocking chair next to mine. “She’ll

five minutes,

course I 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, 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

*****

my Master glances up from where he is checking Charlie’s girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over me

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

locking his hands into

hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down.

through the yard, he says, “I thought we might take the path through the top field then loop back for the trail

“Great idea.”

*****

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

says my Master, then eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring under

you to the end

fence.

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

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

He pulls Oliver to a standstill and I do the same. I’m grinning like a maniac, panting, my blood racing. My Master’s eyes

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

lifting the long arm of the gate latch to

the bridle path that will take us to the

there’s something I want