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.

myself to wait, watching the store entrance

the people… Own

plate glass windows, I see him inside, looming over a shop-assistant,

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 way

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

…and accept…

… the rules.

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

slides 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,

love to take

just try to intimidate someone who

smirk

…

It’s not the time…

adding it to my list of To-Dos:

later, he re-emerges, again

Always the pocket…

the

his next stop: a tobacconist a couple

and the girl serving fall silent as I point to the first brand I recognise… “Vinte, por favor. E um isqueiro…” … push the coins

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

a little distance as I slip the cigarette back into the pack, when I realise there’s a beggar, rheumy-eyed, standing

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

my forehead… “My pleasure...”

Shit!

Where is he?

Boy’s nowhere in sight, lost in the milling

Have I lost him?

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