Page 59 of Passenger Princess

A beat passes before I speak. "A letter?"

"A letter. Yeah. A physical letter was sent to the Miss Americana offices. My name must be on a contact form somewhere because some kid from the Miss Americana Organization called me to let me know."

"And?"

"And he told me he works in the mailroom; Ava got a threatening letter. His boss told him to call the security company. I told them to contact Regina and have her report it to Five Star. Not going to step into Greg's business."

"What kind of letter?"

"It could be nothing," he says, not answering the question.

"What kind of letter?" I repeat through gritted teeth, my hand tightening on the railing.

There's a deep sigh before my mentor speaks. "It's probably not anything to worry about."

"But?" I ask, hearing the words he didn't say.

"It's a letter telling Ava to step down or something bad will happen. It has her name on it, addressed to her, sent to the offices, but it mentions a lot of personal details. Where she's been, where she's worked, her friends..." I'm silent through the line, trying to assemble pieces before he speaks again. "Look, Jaime, it's probably nothing to worry about. I just wanted you to know."

"Nothing to worry about? She might have a much too invested fan, best-case scenario, and worst-case, a stalker. And why is no one telling me about this?" My mind is swirling through all the options and worse-case scenarios.

"Look, all we can do is make sure she's safe, right? Things aren't adding up, and we can see that, but there's only so much we can do. You keep that girl safe; I'll do what I can. Unfortunately, your hands are tied, son."

"I think she's waking up," I say, hearing the bathroom click shut. "We gotta get on the road, so I should start packing up for the road."

"All right, son. You take care of that girl, yeah? I'll see if I can dig anything up; call a few friends."

I sigh in relief. "I owe you, Hank," I say, relieved that I havesomeoneon my side right now.

"When you're in California, bring her to me. I want to meet this beauty queen who has you so flustered."

"She doesn't have me?—"

But then I realize the line has gone silent, Hank having hung up before I can argue.

Theass.

Walking back into the hotel suite, Ava walks out of the bathroom, her hair a mess, a crease in the side of her face, her pajamas one giant oversized men's T-shirt that spawns some kind of jealousy I refuse to put a voice to, thinking of her getting it from some random asshole.

"Mornin'," she says, squinting and staring at me. She's like this in the morning, I've learned. It's not that she's not a morning person—not like she's grumpy or irritated when she wakes—just that she's not all there like part of her is still curled up in her bed.

Stop thinking about her curled in bed,I tell myself when my mind wanders to what she'd look like, blonde hair spread over a pillow, curled up on herself, that tee riding up.

"Iced coffee's in the fridge," I say, tipping my chin toward the hotel's little kitchenette.

"You're a lifesaver," she groans, then scuffles there, pulling the cup I grabbed earlier this morning and taking a long sip before she leans back to the counter.

I watch her, my arms on my chest, before speaking. "Do you know self-defense?" I ask.

"What?" Her voice is less scratchy as if she's slowly coming back to the land of the living, and I fight the smile.

"Self-defense. Do you know it?"

Her head lifts, and a small, sleepy smile curves on her lips. "No, why would I need to?"

"You're a public figure, Ava. You're a gorgeous woman. You're alive. You were just attacked yesterday. How many reasons do you need to want to know how to protect yourself?"

She shrugs. "Don't know. Never really thought about it. But…”

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