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

people… Own the

see him

he has her trapped, enclosed between 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.

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

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, face contorted, thrusts it at him,

to take

just try to intimidate someone who knows

wipe that smirk from your

…

It’s not the time…

adding it to my list of To-Dos: Teach Asshole a lesson he won’t

minute later, he re-emerges, again stuffing

Always the pocket…

the attache

to his next stop: a tobacconist a

I follow him inside. He’s already at the counter, exerting his charm, 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

wrap, taking one out then, as I’m about to light up, Wonder Boy reappears. He doesn’t even

distance as I slip the cigarette back into the pack, when

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

“My pleasure...” … then turn to

Shit!

Where is he?

sight, lost

Have I lost him?

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