Hot Revenge Box Set 4

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 to wait, watching the store

people… Own the

the plate glass windows, I see him inside, looming over a shop-assistant, not much

his chest and arms, and the wall.

stand over Jenny with that same gesture; using his height, looking down on her, moving in on her space as he cages her with

…and accept…

… the rules.

the real

If that were Jenny…

My gut tightens…

Then, inwardly, I chuckle.

that were Jenny, Wonder Boy would 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

away 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 take

to intimidate someone who knows how to

that smirk

…

It’s not the time…

to my

re-emerges,

Always the pocket…

the

to his next stop: a tobacconist a

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

out then, as I’m about to light up, Wonder Boy reappears. He doesn’t even look my way as,

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

it to him, then offer up the lighter, the yellow-tipped flame flickering in the breeze. The beggar inhales deeply, smoke drifting from his nostrils, then gives me a small

forehead… “My pleasure...” …

Shit!

Where is he?

sight, lost in the

Have I lost him?