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…

I order

*****

 

Charlotte

jeans and boots he uses

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

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

Cara.” My Mom smiles from her

minutes, just

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

*****

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

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

stoops by Charlie, locking his hands into a cup. “C’mon,

shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s ears flick forward, but

we might take the path through the top field then loop back for the trail

“Great idea.”

*****

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

Master, then eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring under me. “They both do. They’ll settle

the end

to the fence. No jumping. That gate

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

do I 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

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

at the bottom, the air frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue from their nostrils. “It’s so

latch to let me through, clucks Oliver along behind me, and lets the

take

there’s something I

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