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

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

crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine

Um…” I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the mobile rotating above her

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

me five minutes,

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 see the hidden smile behind his eyes. Our daughter burbles a bit but doesn’t seem

*****

girth. “All ready for you.” Straightening up, he runs over

“Two woollens, a cotton top and a thermal

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

and snorting, eager to be off. My Master slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm

he says, “I thought we might take

“Great idea.”

*****

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

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

to the

to the fence.

the wind as I kick heels at Charlie, and she moves from

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 we reach the end of the field, Charlie and Oliver, mother and son, my Master

I’m grinning like a maniac, panting, my blood racing. My Master’s

mountain, the lake glittering at the bottom, the air frigid and fresh. Oliver and

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

bridle path that will take us to the

I want to

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