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

jeans and boots he uses for riding, and a thick

crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine is

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

on Cara.” My Mom smiles from her rocking chair next to mine. “She’ll probably

me five minutes, just while Cara

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

*****

you.” Straightening up, he runs over me with his

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

his hands into

snorting, eager to be off. My Master slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s ears flick forward, but he settles long enough for my Master

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

“Great idea.”

*****

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 a walk and a trot,

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

the end of the

finger. “Only to the fence. No jumping.

kick heels at Charlie, and she moves from trot to canter to gallop in fewer

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

pulls Oliver to a standstill 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 see you smiling

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,

reaches out, lifting the long arm of the gate latch to let me through, clucks Oliver along behind me, and

that will take

there’s something I