Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Next Race, Daytona Beach
The track had been set up on one corner of the field between the bleachers and the infield of Daytona International Speedway.
Trucks and RVs caravanned on the far side, behind where they’d set up the long line of pits along the track.
The Florida sun pounded down on them relentlessly, but Pilot didn't give a fuck about the heat. Bryce had come back to them and Tate was happy and they were going to make this three-way relationship work out. Pilot could almost be happy as well. Only one thing still stood in the way and that was whoever had attacked Tate. That mother-fucker had to go down. Until then, Pilot couldn’t relax and enjoy his life.
Pilot followed Tyler from their RV down to the Apex pit.
They were meeting with both the Apex and the MSR teams to talk about what had happened, what evidence there was, what little information Pilot had found on the internet, and what they could do about it.
Pilot didn't think they could do anything.
This threat had been plaguing them since that photo of Davey and Tyler had been leaked the previous season.
It had quieted down when that Shannon Parker dude wasn't racing, but he was back and so were the threats.
“It's getting worse.” Angel's voice traveled out from their area as they approached.
She sat in Stewart's lap. Davey leaned against the semi-truck beside the couple and he glanced at them as Tyler and Pilot walked up.
His whole face lit up like it was the first time he'd ever seen his husband.
Pilot smirked a little, but knew Tate's face did the same thing when either he or Bryce walked up.
Pilot dropped his own face into a scowl, realizing that his lovers were not present. “Where's Tate and Bryce and what's getting worse?” Pilot practically growled. He had enough of this one thing gunking up his works and he wanted the clog in the drain cleared—fast.
Angel stood up. “They'll be here in a minute. First, I’ll show you what's getting worse. Here.” She crossed over to the tool boxes and flipped her laptop around to show Pilot the emails she'd been getting.
He started glancing over them. “We also have real letters, mail. We turned them over to the police. The Supercross authorities are aware of this. They're not only threatening Davey and Tyler, but they’ve added Tate and Bryce to their list.”
“Think it's Parker again?” Pilot wanted that fucker dead. Threatening his family, that's what they were doing.
“Uh, maybe. He had help last time and we think he does this time too, if it’s him. He didn't attack Tate directly. We know that much.”
“How do we know that?”
“Because he has an iron clad alibi with time stamped video to prove he wasn't anywhere near the hotel when the attack went down.”
Davey leaned against the tool box. “That sounds a little contrived...too convenient, if you ask me.” He'd obviously paid someone or somehow convinced someone to do the deed while he was tucked away safe. “I agree. That doesn't mean he can't be taken down. If he hired someone...”
Angel answered that one. “If we get proof, we'll nail him.”
Broady finally spoke up from where he stood off in the far corner, scoping out the area. “That's the thing, isn't it? We aren't cops or detectives. We need to just let them do their job while we remain vigilant. Maybe Tate and Bryce need extra bodyguards for a while.”
“Good point, Broady.” He had to admit the truth of it, even if he didn't want to. He'd definitely talk to the guys about extra protection. He'd lose it if either of them were hurt again. It'd been too much already. He shut the laptop, unable to keep looking at the disgusting letters. He wanted nothing to do with that. “I’m wondering if Bryce’s stalker has anything to do with this. I’ve been looking for a connection, but honestly, I’ve got nothing.”
After a few minutes, Tate and Bryce showed up with Tate's manager Oz, his coach, Joey, and Bryce’s manager, who Pilot didn’t really know, except his name was George.
Everyone exchanged hello’s and small talk.
Then, Bryce said something that got Pilot's attention.
“So, maybe we should hire a private detective.”
“Yes. Angel? You hear this?”
“What?”
The idea excited Pilot. This could be the answer to bringing the mess to a quick end. “Bryce said we should hire a private detective. We're only security, but we can hire a detective.” He pointed to himself and Broady.
“Great idea. Yes.” She pulled a small cellphone out of the front of her shirt. Where had she hid the thing? In her bra? She moved out of range while she talked.
Oz came up and patted Pilot on the arm. “Maybe that will help, but I want Tate protected in the meantime. I can't have him missing any more races.”
“I can't have him hurt.”
“Same thing.” Oz nodded. Pilot understood better than the man probably realized. He knew what Oz meant, even if he couldn't say it.
“I don't want me hurt, either. Or Bryce.” Tate wrapped an arm around Bryce’s shoulder.
Bryce’s manager didn’t say anything, but he nodded, looking worried, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Bryce had started physical therapy and was walking on his bad leg again, but he still wasn't ready to get back on a bike.
During the week, they'd made their way out to the track and Pilot had rode the bike a little and Tate showed off, but then Pilot sat with Bryce while Tate practiced with Joey.
It had been fun, but he could tell that not riding was killing Bryce.
Pilot put his arm around both of them. “I don't want either of you hurt.” He kissed the top of Bryce's head.
Angel came back over and looked at Oz. “We're getting a private investigator. Apex is fitting the bill, but if you want to hire someone too, we can get them working together.”
Oz held up his hands. “This is so outside of my circle. I'll let you handle it, but I'd like to be updated regularly.”
George added, “Me, too.”
“Deal.” Angel stuck her hand out and Oz shook it, then she shook with George.
Pilot pulled Bryce a little closer and put his hand on Tate’s shoulder, needing to touch both of them and reassure himself of their well-being. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”
Tyler bumped his shoulder into Davey then addressed the teams. “I think Shannon Parker is our number one suspect. Everything is just too coincidental with this guy. We should have the PI on him first.”
“Yeah,” Angel agreed. “That almost goes without saying. If that dickwad is behind all of this, I want the troll put down.”
Stewart wrapped his arms around her waist. “I love it when you’re so fierce.”
Everyone laughed, but Pilot understood how she felt. Maybe Tate understood how Stewart felt, too, because he looked up at Pilot with that same expression of awe and heat that did such strange and wonderful things to his insides.
Despite the distractions, Tate finished in second in the Main Event. He rode like he had something to prove and maybe he did, but Pilot really didn’t care, except that Tate was happy when they ended the day in the hotel room.
Bryce’s leg started bothering him and Tate made him get in bed, which was cute. He liked watching Tate boss Bryce around a little, especially when Bryce pouted. It made Pilot want to bite his bottom lip. Before he could crawl across the bed to indulge himself, his cellphone rang.
Pilot would have ignored it, but it was Johnny and he’d been ignoring him for too long. He tapped the screen. “What’s up, J-man!”
“Hey! I watched the race. Give Tate my condolences on second, man.”
“Har-har. Second is great any day, but even better after his injuries.” Pilot sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on Bryce’s leg.
“I know. I’m just giving you shit, man. So, when are you coming home? Uncle Gary and I want to do dinner with you and your guys.” It was a major capitulation and the change relieved him, which made him feel bad about his plans.
“I’m, uh, not. Not any time soon.”
“Uh, aren’t you on break? Aren’t you off a week?”
Pilot rubbed his forehead. “Yes, but we need to spend time together and Bryce needs to get back on a bike, so I need to be there for him.”
Bryce leaned forward. “No, we don’t.”
Pilot shushed him.
“Listen, Sean. I get these guys mean a lot to you, but come on. We’re family. And I’m trying to include them. Both of them...”
“Yeah, so you should understand. Or at least try to. When the season is over, you’re gonna get sick of us being in your face.”
Tate stepped out of the shower, pulling on a pair of sweat pants. “Hey invite them to the end of season party.”
“What’s that?” Johnny asked.
“Right. Good idea. So, Davey and Tyler are having a big end of season party and they said bring who we want. It’ll be fun, so you and Uncle can come. There’s a pool and a dirt bike track and shit.” He looked up to get Tate’s confirming nod. He hadn’t been there himself, but Tate had.
“Okay. I’ll ask Uncle.” Johnny didn’t sound thrilled, but he’d get over it. “I’ll try to come out to another race or two, okay? Is that okay?”
“Of course, man.”
After they shared small talk and hung up, Tate slid in behind him, rubbing his shoulders. “I like Johnny. He’s just concerned about you.”
“I know.”
His shoulder rub included neck kisses and then a hand slid down and snuck under his shirt.
Pilot twisted around to look at Tate. He still loved his sea green eyes and luscious mouth and he had to kiss Tate right then.
He reached around and pulled Tate in, kissing him and wanting to get as close as he could.
In a heartbeat, Tate had scooted around and let Pilot pull him into his lap.
“Hey!” Bryce gripped Pilot’s waistband with his toes, making him laugh.
Pilot leaned back on the bed with Tate stretched out on top of him. “Come here, Bryce.”