Sitting on the table is the purple music box with the little Black ballerina.
My heart smiles as I twist the spring. My eyes mist over as the sounds of classical music fill the air and the ballerina starts dancing.
“When did he have time to buy this?” I whisper.
CHAPTER 26
Travis
“You should come out with us tonight,” Skyland insists as we get onto the elevator of our hotel. We’re in Montreal, having completed the race earlier today and will be flying home in the morning.
“Not tonight.” I shake my head, anxious to get back to my room.
Skyland’s agent, Gus, snorts and pats Skyland’s chest. “This guy wins it all this weekend and can’t even go out for a little celebration.”
The reminder that I came in P1 here in Montreal is welcomed but not enough to convince me to go out to whatever bar they’re planning to hit up for the night.
After racing we’ve spent hours doing post-race interviews and going over issues with our engineering team. All I want now is to get back to my room and call Alyssia.
“I suppose becoming a father is really changing this guy,” Skyland comments.
I lift an eyebrow in his direction.
Though Skyland and I aren’t particularly close, we’ve definitely hung out after races together and with other racers.
He’s a decent number two driver for the Amato team.
Skyland grins. “I’m just saying, you’ve never hesitated going out with us after a race until this season.”
“Yeah, well, things change,” is all I say as the elevator stops on his floor. My room is a few floors up.
“I’ll text you the place we decide to go to in case you change your mind.”
“Do that,” I say although I won’t be leaving my room tonight.
As soon as I step inside of my room, my foot lands on a folded piece of paper that’s been slipped underneath the door. A chill runs through me as I know this isn’t anything the hotel staff would do.
Before the door closes, I take a second look into the hallway. It’s empty.
When I unfold the paper, something slips out, hitting the floor. It falls face down. I pick it up and the second I see it’s a picture, everything inside of me goes cold.
It’s a photo of me and Alyssia casually strolling through the market we went to the other week.
In it, Alyssia’s looking up at me, lips parted in a smile that makes my heart warm. One of her hands rests in mine while the other sits on her belly, protectively. My face is partially obscured since I’m turned away from the camera looking down at her.
Whoever took this fucking photo was close.
Too close.
I look back at the paper the photo came in.
Do you think you’re untouchable?
That’s it.
No new number to call, no demands to throw a race like before. But this threat is the worst one thus far. It’s a clear message that whoever is behind these threats aren’t meant to be taken as bullshit.
A red-hot haze covers my gaze as I crush the paper in my fist. I’m so fucking pissed off that I can barely press the buttons on my phone to make a much-needed call.
