That call from yesterday stuck with me longer than I would’ve wanted it to. Throughout the day, I racked my brain, trying to figure out who was behind it. The truth is, there’re too many people to narrow it down.
I wouldn’t put it past any one of the other teams to use someone to get the upper hand or to try to throw me off of my game. But there’s the possibility of someone from my team beinga part of this as well. I don’t allow myself to entertain that idea for long.
I’ve been a part of Amato Racing for years now. I’ve grown close to many of our staff from the engineering staff to my teammate, Skyland. We all work our asses off to win fairly. This has to be from someone outside of my team.
“We traced the number to a burner phone,” Uncle Brutus states.
“That won’t get us anywhere.” Sighing, I run a hand through my hair.
“Not yet,” he counters. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours. My team is still working on it.”
“How long until you can know more?”
His deep, reverberating chuckle passes through my laptop’s speakers, sparking my anger.
“Look, Trav,” he begins, using the nickname only members of my family are allowed to use.
“I won’t be foolish enough to tell you to maintain your patience, but remember we just got this additional piece of the puzzle,” he tells me in reference to the note I received after my first race of the season.
“Who do you think is behind this?” I ask.
“It’s still early. I’m going to have my top guy look into Amato Racing first. Often, the people closest to you are the ones who can do the most harm.”
A chill runs down my spine, anger igniting in my belly. The thought of one of my own team members being behind these potential threats has me seeing red. I spend too many hours with my team to get our car and myself in peak performance to win.
“It’s not someone from my team,” I say.
“We’ll see,” he retorts. “In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open.”
“What do you suggest for next week’s race?”
“This call is on you, but I would say, call the motherfucker’s bluff. It’s early in the season and I’m taking a guess, but I think this guy might be trying to rattle you.”
“What about Ferreira?” I ask.
Max might’ve denied anything to do with that note to my face, but I trust that cocky motherfucker less than a pair of ice-cold tires.
“Do you really believe he would stoop this low?”
I scoff at my uncle’s question. “I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“We did a perfunctory look into his affairs,” Uncle Brutus tells me. “and everything seems on the up and up.” He tuts. “He doesn’t hang or do business with the most savory people.”
“See?” I point out. “Exactly. I fucking knew it.”
“No, I meant for his career. He could do better with his inner circle, but aside from loving being in the spotlight and a little too much partying, I doubt any of them have the balls to try to blackmail or get you to throw a race.”
“Check him out anyway,” I tell him.
He gives me a doubtful look. “Are you worried about this or something else?”
“Such as?”
His look turns serious. “You know what. You’re going to be a father soon. Are you afraid whoever is behind that call and note could somehow pose a threat to your baby and Alyssia?”
A muscle in my jaw ticks.
“I’ve considered it,” I admit.
