Revived (Revved Series Book 2)(79)

MY PLANE FINALLY LANDED after a three-hour delay, being stuck in the goddamn airport in Belgium. It’s nearing midnight, and I am finally in the car, leaving the airport and heading to India’s house.

I’d texted her when I was still stuck in Belgium to tell her my plane was delayed, and as soon as I landed, I was coming straight to her place, but she didn’t respond. When I was going through security at the airport, I decided to text her again, letting her know I had landed and I was on my way.

Still no response.

It’s bugging the fuck out of me that she hasn’t responded. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m just about to call her when I receive a text from her.

I’m at your place. See you when you get here.

It’s not the usual happy text I get from her and no kiss at the end, which she always does, but I’m still really fucking happy to know she’s waiting at my house for me. Hopefully, in my bed, naked.

My cock stiffens at the thought.

God, I can’t wait to get home and bury myself deep inside her. I’m going to fuck her all night, all over my house. There’ll be no surface we won’t have christened by the time I am finished with her.

“Change of plans.” I lean forward, toward my driver. “I’m going straight home.” Then, I rest back on the seat and close my eyes.

“You’re home, Mr. Silva.”

I feel the night air on my face and blink open my eyes to see the car door open and the driver’s face.

“Shit. I must have fallen asleep.” I rub my eyes.

“I’ll get your case for you.”

I climb out of the car. My driver hands me my case.

“Thanks,” I say to him. Getting my wallet, I pull out a few fifties. “For coming out so late to pick me up.”

“Thank you, but I can’t accept it. Company policy, Mr. Silva. It’s not worth my job.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. But thank you.”

I shove the notes in my pocket with my wallet, and drag my suitcase to my front door. Key in the lock, I open it and dump my suitcase in the hallway.

“Honey, I’m home!” I call out, a smile on my face. I close and lock the door behind me.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

Well, that is not the greeting I was hoping for. And her voice sounds monotone. It leaves an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

With a sense of foreboding, I remove my shoes and head to the kitchen.

India is seated at the breakfast island. She’s staring into a glass of red wine in front of her.

“India?”

She lifts her head to look at me. Her eyes are red and puffy. She looks like she’s been crying. “I came here because I need to talk to you, and I didn’t want Jett overhearing what I have to tell you.”

My mouth dries, my chest tightening. “And what do you have to tell me?”

“Paul…he rang me this morning.”

“What?” I exclaim, stepping into the kitchen.

She turns on her stool to face me. Briefly closing her eyes, she blows out a breath, her hands curling on her lap. “He did the break-in at my office. Well, he had someone do it for him, one of his prison buddies I’m guessing. He has my laptop. Somehow, he got through the passwords and into my patients’ files. He knows you were my patient, Leandro. He’s blackmailing me. He wants me to give him five hundred thousand pounds, or he’ll send your patient records and pictures of us together to the HCPC.”

“Jesus.” I rub my forehead with my fingers. Moving toward her, I sit on the stool beside her. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

She lets out a humorless laugh as she brushes a tear from her cheek. It kills me to see her crying.

I am going to beat that life out of that fucker when I get my hands on him.

“I wish I were.” She rubs her cheek with her wrist. “There’s something else…” She worries her lower lip with her teeth before meeting my eyes. “He’s threatening to sell the details of your PTSD to the press if I don’t comply.”

I let out a derisive snort. “And I would have my lawyer shove an injunction so far up their asses that it would be bleeding out of their noses. There is no way they would be able to print that shit because it would be coming from an illegal source. Don’t fucking worry about that, babe.”

“But I have to worry about Jett.” She sniffs again. “Paul wants me to take the money to him in Manchester…and take Jett along with me, so he can meet him.” Her jaw clenches in anger. “That’s never going to happen. So, I’m sitting here, drinking your wine and mourning the loss of my career. Even if I had the money to pay him off, he’s not getting anywhere near Jett.”