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 another

*****

 

Charlotte

by the nursery door, wearing the jeans and boots he uses for riding, and a

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

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

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

give me five minutes,

seem impassive to any that didn’t know him,

*****

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

pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton top and a thermal vest Mom

then he stoops by Charlie, locking his hands

the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s

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

“Great idea.”

*****

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

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

to the

the fence. No jumping. That gate is too

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

up, first closing behind me, then alongside, snorting steam as he pulls ahead. But as her son begins

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

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

latch to let me through, clucks Oliver

path that will take us

I

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