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 another

*****

 

Charlotte

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

the air. And the sunshine is that brilliant

exercise. Um…” I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying, with unformed muscles, to reach for a

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

five minutes, just

stroking Cara’s cheek. His face might seem impassive to any that didn’t know him, but I see the hidden smile behind his

*****

he is checking Charlie’s girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over

pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton top and a

Charlie, locking his hands into a

and 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

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

“Great idea.”

*****

with the cold and Oliver is trying

needs to run,” says my Master, then eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring

you to the end

fence. No jumping. That gate is too

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

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

like a maniac, panting, my blood racing. My Master’s eyes are soft. “It’s good to see

frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue from their nostrils. “It’s so good to be able to move

gate latch to let me through, clucks Oliver along behind

that will take

there’s something I want to

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