The Start of a Mysterious Mystery: (Signed with a Kiss, Book 2)

by Sorensen, Jessica

  Loki must’ve towed my car home this morning since it’s now in the driveway. I find it weird he didn’t tell me, but I guess that just shows how upset he still is with me.

  Alexis Baker broke Loki.

  I am an awful person behind this mask.

  Swallowing hard, I force those thoughts out of my mind and focus on something, anything else.

  It’s a nice day, sunny and warm, sunshine splattered across everything and making the illusion that this town is more cheerful than it probably is.

  If I were the old Alexis, I'd run back in to grab my sketchbook. Then I would spend hours trying to capture the essence of this day. But this new Alexis just sits on the steps in silence, trying not to think about anything other than how creepy my next-door neighbor looks doing yoga in his front yard. I should probably mention that he's like seventy and is wearing tight bootie shorts and a bro tank. But, as gross as it is, it distracts me from my worries. The moment he starts doing squats, though, I’m out, focusing instead on the dogs barking in the distance, at the argument my other next-door neighbors are having over what kind of barbeque sauce to use in their chili recipe—oh, the dilemma. All of this offers a nice distraction from what just happened in my house.

  Someone was in my parents’ bedroom.

  I was in there.

  I was surrounded by all their stuff.

  Dammit, I don’t want to think about this.

  Deciding I need a better distraction, I dig my phone out and text Loki.

  Me: Thanks for getting my car home.

  Loki: You’re welcome. It’s fixed too.

  Me: What? Really?

  Loki: Yeah. It was just needed a new battery. The battery cable broke in half. I’m not sure how, other than maybe it was just old and wore all the way through.

  I pause. The battery cable was broke in half? So I was right about what was wrong with my car. Only I’d first assumed it had been cut, but dismissed the idea because it seemed bizarre. I don’t know, though, with this whole blackmailer thing going on…

  Maybe they cut it.

  But why?

  Me: Oh. Okay, well thanks again. I owe you one.

  Loki: You can pay me back by staying out of trouble.

  My fingers hover over the buttons. I should type okay. It should be easy. But it’s not.

  Me: Okay.

  Part of me wonders if my fingers have become liars—

  The sound of a grumbling engine cuts through my thoughts.

  I blink then spot West’s GTO rolling up to the curb in front of my house.

  “Thank God,” I breathe out, never thinking I’d ever be this happy to see West. But I’ll admit that I am. I’m blaming that on him being a distraction, though.

  Pushing to my feet, I start across the front lawn and toward his car. Halfway there, I see him climb out, and then he rounds the front of the car.

  He’s dressed in black jeans, a grey T-shirt and, as always, leather bands ornament his wrists. Wisps of his blond hair hangs in his eyes that are glancing at my car in the driveway.

  Then he glances at me. “Loki got your car home I’m guessing?”

  I nod. “Yeah. He towed it while I still was in bed.”

  “That was nice of him.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “So did you decide if you needed my help fixing it?”

  I shake my head. “He actually fixed it already.”

  “Oh.” He looks like he wants to frown, which literally makes no sense.

  He’s upset my car is fixed?

  “It was just a broken battery cable,” I add, confused what he wants from me.

  His brows knit. “Really?”

  I nod. “Yeah, and I don’t want to be paranoid or anything, but with the blackmailer popping up around the same time the battery broke or whatever, I feel a little, I don’t know, like maybe it didn’t break, but was cut. Although, I don’t know what the point of cutting my battery cable would be.”

  “Me either.” He frowns. “If they did cut your battery cable, it not only means they’re watching you, but they’re also toying with you.”

  A shiver rolls through my body even though it’s hot as hell out here. “That’s creepy. But honestly, the whole thing is.”

  He nods in agreement. “You should be extra careful, Lex. No wandering off alone or anything like that.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” I inform him. “Since right now, I’m currently friendless and am kind of a loner.”

  He smiles genuinely. “You’re not friendless. You have me. And we’re supposed to be fake dating, so that means spending time together.”

  “I guess so.” Still, I feel unsettled over not knowing anything about this blackmailer, including what they want from me.

  I guess for now I can no longer be Loner Alexis, and while I’ll never admit it aloud, a sliver of a piece of me is okay with that, even right now when I’m about to go spend time with West.

  At least, that’s what he said, but then he got out of his car…

  “I thought we were going somewhere?” I ask confusedly.

  “Oh, yeah, we are.” He blinks out of his daze, smiles at me, and moves back toward his car. Then he reaches for the door handle of the passenger door and opens it. “I’m just trying to be a good fake boyfriend.” He winks then holds the door open for me.

  I raise a brow at him. “For reals?”

  “What?” he asks innocently. “Good fake boyfriends hold doors open for their fake girlfriends.” His blue-eyed, amused gaze scrolls up and down me. “A fake girlfriend who looks hot, by the way.”

  I cross my arms and arch a brow. “Good fake boyfriends don’t lie to their fake girlfriends.”

  “What did I lie about?” he asks in confusion.

  “Me looking hot.”

  “But you do look hot.”

  I gesture at my grungy outfit and tangled mess of hair. “I look like a mess.”

  “A hot mess,” he clarifies with a cheeky grin. “I like your wild look, especially when your hair’s all crazy like that.” He pauses, considering, and then a slow grin spreads across his lips, letting me know that whatever he’s about to say is probably going to piss me off. “It makes me want to comb my fingers through it and tug on the strands while I kiss the hell out of you.”

  I make a big show of rolling my eyes. “It so does not.”

  “Does to,” he quips.

  I roll my eyes again, part of me wanting to kick his ass for saying all that, but the other part of me decides to play along because, frankly, I’m too damn stressed out to get all worked up. “Well, even if you tried to do that, your fingers would just get tangled in the strands. So tangled, in fact, we’d probably have to cut them off to free them.”

  “Your hair or my fingers?”

  “Your fingers. I like my long hair.”

  “Yeah, me, too …” He sucks on his lip ring while deliberating. “I guess it’d probably be better to cut off my fingers. That way, I could continue combing my fingers through your hair while I kissed the hell out of you.” He grins. “With my good hand, of course.”

  “Of course.” I roll my eyes. “Dude, what’s with you? I mean, you seemed all bummed out on the phone, and now you’re all jokes and smiles.”

  His grin glitters with amusement. “It’s called flirting.” He reaches out and grazes his knuckles along my jawline. “Is there something wrong with me wanting to flirt with my fake girlfriend?”

  His move startles the living gremlins out of me, and I almost tumble off the curb but hastily collect myself and stare him down.

  “Yeah, there’s something wrong with that. We’re only pretending to date so I can save face in front of Masie and Blaine, but neither one of them is around”—I wave my hand around, gesturing at the neighborhood—“so there’s really no point in flirting right now.”

  He shakes his head as he steps toward me. “I completely disagree with you. And you want to know why?”

  “Not really,” I mumble, “but I have a feeling you�
��re going to tell me anyway, so go ahead.”

  His lips kick up into a grin. "Because practice makes perfect. Like our kiss last night, we have to practice flirting, too.”

  His reminder of the kiss makes my stomach do weird things, and I don’t like it. At all.

  “Why? You’re already a pro at it,” I quip with a grin, trying to play it cool.

  “Touché, baby,” he says, eliciting a dirty look from me, but he doesn’t seem to give a crap. “But I’m not a pro at it with you.”

  I roll my eyes, wanting to argue but deciding to let it go for now. “Whatever.” Then I climb into the car. The leather seats are cool against the backs of my legs due to him having the air conditioning blasting.

  He moves to shut the door. “We should also practice kissing some more.”

  I whip my head in his direction. “Um, no—”

  He shuts the door before I can finish, a move I’m sure he does on purpose. I’m kind of glad he does, because talking about that kiss makes my skin feel a bit warm.

  I check my reflection in the mirror on the visor and realize I feel warm because a flush has spread across my cheeks.

  Awesome. I’m turning into Zhara.

  Shaking my head at myself, I flip the visor up right as West opens the driver’s door.

  After he climbs in, he looks at me, his gaze skimming across my face. “You look hot,” he states. “I have the air conditioner cranked high, but I can turn it all the way up if you want me to.” He reaches for the knob.

  I mentally roll my eyes at myself. “I’m fine. Just drive.”

  He pauses. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. It’s probably just from me sitting outside.” I’m such a dirty liar.

  He withdraws his hand from the knob and rests it on the steering wheel. “Why were you sitting outside anyway? It’s hot as hell right now.”

  Oh yeah. With the whole car thing, I’d almost forgotten about the other unsettling thing that happened. “I had this weird feeling someone was in the house so I went out side because I got creeped out.”

  He’s just twisted the key to start up the engine but freezes, his gaze snapping to me. “What?”

  “Yeah, I heard this bang and then I tracked the noise to my parents’ bedroom. The window was open, which is super weird because, as far as I know, no one goes in there. But, apparently, someone did because there’s something missing from my mom’s vanity.”

  His brows knit. “What?”

  I lift a shoulder. “I have no idea.”

  “Then, how do you know something’s missing?”

  “Because of the dust. The room is so dusty, but there was a spot on the vanity that wasn’t, so something had recently been there.”

  He reclines back in the seat, twisting to face me, the engine idling. “You think it was one of your brothers or sisters?”

  “It could’ve been.” But with everything else happening, I’m worried it might not be.

  But would the blackmailer take things as far as breaking into my house. If yes, then again, why? What’s the point of all of this?

  “And yet you seem worried about it,” West says, searching my eyes.

  I don’t want him to see whatever he’s searching for, so I do what I do best. I lie.

  “No, I don’t,” I say.

  He lifts a brow. “Lex, if you weren’t worried about it, you wouldn’t have told me about it. I know you, and you don’t just give out information about yourself unless you feel like it’s necessary.”

  “You act like I’m this totally closed off person.”

  “Not closed off. Just cautious.”

  He’s right. I am cautious now. I wonder if this cautiousness is who I am or if it was built inside me as a defense mechanism to hold me together and make me unbreakable. Or, at least pretend to be unbreakable.

  “Thanks for trusting me, though,” he tells me, wrapping his fingers around the steering wheel.

  “I’m not trusting you. I’m just …” I glare at him when he smiles at me.

  “It’s okay to trust me.” He grabs the shifter with his free hand and shifts, then steers out onto the road.

  “That’s not what I was doing,” I insist, though I question if maybe I am.

  Not wanting to delve too deeply into that tangled mess, I jump around it. “So, where are we going anyway? I know you said you wanted me to help you get a job, but you never specified how we are gonna do that. You know I can’t go to interviews with you, right?” My brow teases upward.

  He flashes me a smirk. “Hardy, har, har. You’re a riot.” He rolls his eyes. “No, even I’m not that stupid. I know you can’t go with me. I just thought we’d maybe go to the diner, look through the help wanted ads, figure out which ones I want to apply for, and then you can help me fill out applications.”

  “That sounds doable.” I buckle my seatbelt then slant back in the seat. “I just don’t want you to set your expectations too high. Yeah, I’ve had jobs before, but I’m not even sure why anyone hired me.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says as he slows the car down for a stop sign. “You can be charming when you want to be.”

  “If that’s true, it’s like one percent of the time.”

  “Still, that point-one percent”—he holds up his hand with his finger and thumb a sliver of an inch apart—“you’re pretty damn charming.”

  “And let me guess; that’s what won you over in this fake relationship.”

  “Nah, I like the complicated Lex, too.”

  I start to laugh, thinking he’s joking, but he just smiles at me.

  “You’re so weird,” I inform him, propping my feet up on the dash.

  “I’m weird?” he questions as he drives through the intersection. “You’re the one who thinks Wonderland could be a real place.”

  “Hey, it totally could.”

  He smiles. “If you say so.”

  “Oh, I do.”

  He keeps on smiling as he makes a turn onto the highway.

  “Smile all you want,” I tell him, “but I’m right on this one.”

  Grinning slyly, his lips part, but I never do get to hear his comeback because my phone buzzes from inside my pocket, interrupting the moment.

  Unknown: Since threatening you doesn’t seem to be working, we’re going to play a little game. I took something that belongs to you. If you figure out what it is, you can have it back. If you don’t, I’ll not only keep it but send this little video I took of you spray-painting buildings with your shitty poetry. Be warned: the journey to finding it will slowly rip your heart out. But maybe you won’t feel it. I mean, that little poem you wrote on the side of the bank did state that your heart was already shattered, right?

  I swallow hard as I recall the line they’re referring to:

  Like this cracked brick the paint stains,

  My heart connects to the words,

  The surface, cracked and shattered,

  But still existing,

  Like the paint,

  But hidden underneath my ribs for no one to see.

  They’ll see this paint, though.

  See the stains and the cracks in the bricks.

  See the decay the paint tries to cover up.

  That one hadn’t remained up for too long, since it rained right after and before the paint could even dry. Apparently, someone did see it, though, before the rain washed it all away.

  Me: What did you take from me?

  Unknown: I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet. You were right there, looking at it.

  Me: Stop talking in riddles and just tell me.

  Unknown: The dust hasn’t settled yet. That’s your first clue.

  “What’s wrong?” West asks, glancing at me worriedly.

  I hold up a finger, my heart hammering in my chest as I type back a reply.

  Me: Were you in my parents' bedroom? If so, I’m going to turn you into the police, you asshole.

  Unknown: Go ahead. While you’re at it, you might
as well confess to all your crimes.

  Every muscle in my body throbs with anger.

  “Seriously, what the heck is going in?” West’s voice turns demanding.

  When I don’t answer right away, mostly because it makes me feel uneasy talking about my criminal activities aloud, he grumbles incoherently under his breath then pulls the car over to the side of the road.

  “What’re you doing?” I peer around at the houses lining both sides of the street.

  He doesn’t answer, reaching over and stealing the phone out of my hand.

  “Hey, what the heck?” I reach to steal it back, but he holds it away from me.

  “Look, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” He gives me a pressing look. “And I told you last night that I would.”

  “I know, but …” I chew on my bottom lip. “It’s just weird talking about this.”

  He angles his head to the side. “Talking about the person blackmailing you?”

  “No. Talking about the stuff he’s trying to blackmail me with.”

  He glances down at the phone in his hand then locks gazes with me. “You mean, with the whole graffiti thing?”

  I give an uneasy nod. “I know I kind of told you about it last night, but it’s still weird just talking about it.” Not just because what I did was illegal, but because those words I painted were part of my heart pouring out of me. And I hate that he may have seen it, seen the words and feelings that I pretend I don’t have.

  Pretend.

  When did it get so hard not to pretend?

  It’s like the closer I get to him, the more I start to fall apart from the inside out. Why, though? It’s not like I haven’t had any damn friends before. But pretending around Masie was easy. It even was mostly with Blaine.

  He assesses me way too closely for my liking. “I get that but, if you want me to help you, you’ve got to trust me.”

  Trust. Do I even know what the word means anymore?

  Who the hell knows?

  “Fine.” I take the phone back from him but only so I can unlock the screen. Then I give it back. “The blackmailer just sent me a ton of messages. You can read them if you want.”

  Worry flickers in his eyes as he fixes his gaze on the screen.

  While he reads, I stare out the window, pretending like I’m perfectly okay. Pretending like the messages aren’t bothering me. But they are. Every word the texter sent is crawling underneath my flesh, especially the part about how they stole something from my parents’ room.