Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 21

Antonio's concern for me is touching but it’s cost me long seconds. As I emerge, blinking against the sunlight, Wonder Boy has vanished.

Fuck!

Have I lost him?

I spin, scanning all around, seeking my quarry, ignoring the curious stares of passers-by…

… The line of parked cars…

Doorways…

… along the block…

… the other side of the street…

Zip. Nada…

Then, sprinting across the street, dodging the traffic, I make it to the corner: the clothes store I used as my lurking spot when I first came here.

How long did he hold me up?

Twenty seconds?

Thirty?

How far can the bastard have gone?

Then, I see him again, tall against the crowd.

He emerges from the next door along from Antonio’s, a small hair-salon-cum-barber-shop. Shoving something into his pocket, he turns my way…

The clothing store?

It appears Santa Claus is doing his rounds, collecting his gifts from all the little boys and girls on his list, regardless of whether they’re naughty or nice.

on myself

the people…

through the plate glass windows, I see him inside, looming over

her trapped, enclosed between his chest and arms,

his height, looking down on her, moving in on her space as he cages her with his body. But it’s different between them; easily seen for the game it really

…and accept…

… the rules.

is the

If that were Jenny…

My gut tightens…

Then, inwardly, I chuckle.

have a knee in his groin and a knife/broken-bottle/metal-comb at his throat. The only time anyone ever took my daughter down, she was nine months pregnant. Even then, it took two strong men and a hypo of tranquilizer to

I watch, the girl ducks, then slides away from Wonder Boy, making for the counter, Stabbing at the till, she snatches cash from the drawer and,

love to take

to intimidate someone who

wipe that smirk

…

It’s not the time…

away for future reference, adding it to my list of To-Dos:

re-emerges, again

Always the pocket…

Never the attache

next stop: a tobacconist a couple of doors

but both he and the girl serving fall silent as I point to the first brand I recognise… “Vinte, por favor. E um isqueiro…” … push the coins at her, then, pocketing a packet of twenty and the lighter,

one out then, as I’m about to light up,

I slip the cigarette back into the pack, when I realise there’s a beggar, rheumy-eyed, standing beside me, holding his

flame flickering in the breeze. The beggar inhales deeply, smoke drifting from his nostrils, then gives me a small

my forehead… “My pleasure...” …

Shit!

Where is he?

nowhere in sight,

Have I lost him?

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