Hot Revenge Box Set 4
Chapter 31
A cheap hotel room, a miserable night, and the first poor cup of coffee I’ve had in this São Paulo:
A face stares out at me from the morning newspaper: a smiling boy, perhaps a school photograph, posted under a grim headline
Casualties are mounting in the aftermath of the explosion…
My eyes follow the text, but as I reach the end of the column, I realise I don’t know what it said…
Rodrigo… The hotel boy who served my breakfast each morning. So helpful to the nice cavalheiro inglês who sometimes tipped him, as much for the smile as for good service. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen.
And now dead because some vengeful little bitch missed her target.
I had to grow up quick at that age…
He never will…
Did she miss her target?
Or was it all part of some plan to implicate me?
Lawrence Klempner… Trafficker, murderer, and guilty of a thousand sins, now wanted for terrorism…
?
Who knows? I’m getting beyond guessing how much mayhem Juliana is willing to unleash in her crusade against me.
How did she find me?
She knows I’m here…
She knew where I was…
So… why take so long about showing her hand?
How did she find me?
And when?
As I entered the country?
Three weeks ago…
our Juliana
sense of power
cat and
officer maybe? Who recognised
It’s possible.
If my face had flagged up any warning signals,
perhaps they did simply spot me at Antonio’s? Or trace me back to the bar after I took out their heavy. And he knew who I was when
Maybe they all do.
put the word out
That seems more likely.
a habit of going to the restaurant… hoping to spot my quarry… Instead, they spotted me. She knew I’d turn up at some point, so of course, her thugs would know what
all makes much more
I think…
surface, I’m picking
Does it add up?
Really?
What’s missing?
fit into a gang of that
Brazil…
‘Traditional’ values…
to
do you ever find
top and get control of him. That would tie in with what
Femme fatale…
Wonder who he is?
Poor bastard…
life-expectancy down the
am… If Juliana has them
mental replay of my visit to Juliana’s apartment. The coffee’s dreadful stuff, but at least the caffeine hit does its work. My
How many were there?
dozen certainly. And an uncertain
one side. But smiling, accusing eyes still stare out at me. After a moment, I turn the paper over, photo
What now?
Fade into the background?
Disappear?
How?
get him
fucking phone
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