“What? You don’t think it could be him? The policewoman said she thought it was just a smash-and-grab.”
“Since when do smash-and-grabbers spend time trashing the place? I’ll call, make sure he’s still there.” He pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and makes the call. “It’s Jonah. I need you to check an electronic tag for me. Paul Connelly. Manchester. Yeah. Call me back.” He slips his phone back in his pocket. “We’ll know in a few minutes if he’s still there.”
“Okay.” I start to nervously twist my fingers.
It seems like forever before Jonah’s phone rings.
“Yeah? He’s still there.” He meets my eye. “Good. Thanks.” He hangs up the phone. “He’s still in Manchester at home. This wasn’t him.”
“Thank God.” I sigh in relief.
“I’m gonna call Andre, let him know what’s happened. You might want to call Leandro. Andre will call him right after he speaks to me—he has to report everything to him—so you might want to beat Andre to it.”
“I’ll call him now.”
“I’M CATCHING THE FIRST FLIGHT BACK.” I climb out of bed and grab my jeans off the chair, pulling them on.
“No, stay where you are.” India’s stern voice comes down the line.
“You’ve been fucking robbed, India. I’m coming home.”
“My office was burgled. I wasn’t in any danger. I was at home when it happened.”
“Your office is broken into, and the fucking pedophile cunt who threatened you recently got out of prison. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I am coming home. And it’s nonnegotiable, India.”
“It is a coincidence. Jonah had Paul’s electronic tag checked. He’s still in Manchester in his house. Leandro”—she drops the tone in her voice to softer—“you need to stay in Belgium. You have a race to do.”
“I couldn’t give a fuck about my race right now,” I snap.
“You might not, but your team will. And the sponsors and all the fans who bought tickets to come watch the race—they all give a fuck. The burglary has nothing to do with Paul. The police think it was just a junkie looking for things to sell.”
“Fuck!” I drag my hand through my hair, rubbing at my scalp, feeling helpless and frustrated, and hating it. “Who the hell robs a therapist? It’s not like you have anything of value in your office.”
“The police think he might have seen the sign on my door, seen the word doctor, and probably thought that I had prescription drugs on site.”
“Fucking scum,” I growl. Taking a pause, I breathe deep, trying to calm down. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Are you okay?” I ask her.
“I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.”
“I am going to worry because I’m here while you are there, and I feel fucking helpless. I hate that I’m not there with you, to help you.”
“Just hearing your voice helps me. And I got your texts earlier. They came through at the same time as when the alarm company called, but I came straight to the office. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to reply.”
I cringe, remembering why I had text her. “Don’t worry about that. Where are you right now? Are you okay to talk? There is something you need to know. The reason I text earlier…God, it’s been a shit night all around.”
“I’m sitting in Jonah’s car. He’s in my building, on the phone with Andre. What’s wrong, Leandro?”
I can hear the worry in her voice loud and clear.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about…and I am really sorry to land this on you when you are already dealing with the burglary, but I don’t want to not tell you, and then the pictures appear in the news, and you see them.”
“Pictures?” Her voice goes cold. “What pictures?”
I let out a sigh. “I was in the hotel bar with Carrick earlier, having a beer. A woman came over, asked to have her picture taken with me. So, I said yes because I have to do shit like that, and to cut a long story short—and this is going to sound bad, India, so hear me out first—this woman propositioned me while her friend took pictures of us, and…she grabbed my crotch. As I tried to get her hand off of me, I turned my face in her direction in shock, and she…kissed me.” I wince at what I’m telling her. “Her friend caught the whole fucking debacle on camera…and I…kind of lost my temper. She was threatening to sell the photos to the press.” I’m quick to add, “So, I might have called her a soulless bitch and her friend a fucking cunt.”
When I finish, there’s just absolute silence on the end of the phone. I close my eyes against it, worried about what’s going through her mind.
“India…babe, are you still there?”
She exhales. “I’m here.”
Relief. “Are you…okay?”
“Just processing.”
“I am sorry.”
“It’s not your fault that some lunatic woman violated you. I’m actually pretty fucking angry. If a guy did that to a woman, he’d be arrested for assault.”
A smile pushes up my lips. “I fucking love you, a real lot, India Harris.”
“I love you a whole lot, too, Leandro Silva.”
“When my season is over, I’m taking you and Jett on a long vacation where there are no junkie burglars or psycho crotch-grabbing women.”
“Sounds like heaven.”