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

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

lovely day, with a crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine is

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

an eye on Cara.” My Mom smiles from her rocking chair

you give me five minutes, just while

know him, but I see the hidden smile

*****

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 layers? It’s cold

tug down the neck of my roll-top pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton top and a

Charlie, locking his hands into a cup. “C’mon, I’ll give you

his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s ears flick forward, but he settles long enough for my Master

we might take the path through the top field

“Great idea.”

*****

simply magical: just 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 gait dancing between a walk and a trot, everything about him says

eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring under me. “They both

you to the

fence. No

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

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

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

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

the long arm of the gate latch to let me through,

path that will take us to the trail

something I want to ask

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