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.

on, cross the street to merge with the hubbub of people, then double-back on myself to wait, watching the store entrance as he enters, strolling in as though he owns

the people…

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

taller than the girl he’s intimidating. An arm to either side of her, smirking, he has her trapped, enclosed between his chest and arms, and the wall. Even from here, I can see the

seen James stand over Jenny with that same gesture; using 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

…and accept…

… the rules.

is the

If that were Jenny…

My gut tightens…

Then, inwardly, I chuckle.

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,

counter, Stabbing at the till, she snatches cash from the drawer and, face contorted, thrusts it at him, yelling

love to

to intimidate someone who knows how to

that smirk from your

…

It’s not the time…

it away for future reference, adding it to my

he re-emerges, again stuffing

Always the pocket…

the

stop: a tobacconist

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

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

the pack, when I realise there’s a beggar, rheumy-eyed, standing beside me, holding his hand out, looking at the

beggar inhales deeply, smoke drifting from

forehead… “My pleasure...” … then turn

Shit!

Where is he?

Boy’s nowhere in sight,

Have I lost him?