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.

cross the street to merge with the hubbub of people, then double-back on myself

the people… Own

bit, looking through the plate glass windows, I see him inside, looming

side of her, smirking, he has her trapped, enclosed between his chest and arms, and the wall. Even from here, I

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

…and accept…

… the rules.

is the real

If that were Jenny…

My gut tightens…

Then, inwardly, I chuckle.

The only time anyone ever took my daughter down, she was nine

from Wonder Boy, making for the counter, Stabbing at the till, she snatches cash from the drawer and, face contorted, thrusts it at him, yelling something I

love to

to intimidate someone who knows

that smirk from your

…

It’s not the time…

away for future reference, adding it to

later, he re-emerges, again stuffing his

Always the pocket…

Never the

his next stop: a

fall silent as I point to the first

view, making a show of opening the packet, unravelling the plastic wrap, taking one out then, as I’m about to light up,

seconds, letting him get a little distance as I slip the cigarette back into the pack, when I realise there’s

him, then offer up the lighter, the yellow-tipped flame flickering in the breeze. The beggar

forehead… “My pleasure...” …

Shit!

Where is he?

sight, lost in the milling

Have I lost him?

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