A Truthful Kiss (Honeyton Alexis) (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 3) Read online

  About halfway up the pathway, the front door swings open and out walks someone with a hoodie pulled over their head. I slow down, unsure what the hell is going on, when I hear the person mutter, “Get in your car.”

  Blaine. But, why the hell is he dressed like someone who’s about to rob a place?

  “Dude, what’re you doing?” I ask as he strides toward me.

  “Just get in the car,” he mutters as he nears me. “Now, for fuck’s sake.”

  Awesome. He’s already pissing me off.

  “Whatever,” I mutter then turn around and get back in my car.

  He stops beside the passenger side of the door, peers around, then ducks in. Once he’s in the seat, he hunkers down. “Start driving,” he instructs.

  I roll my eyes but start up the car. “Where do you want me to go?”

  “Go up by the lake,” he mumbles as he tugs the hood of his jacket farther down his face.

  “Why?” I question, eyeing him over. “And what the hell’s your deal? Why’re you dressed like that?”

  He sneaks a peek out the window. “Because I might be being watched. And I’m not supposed to be talking to you. Well, not in private. So, drive up to the lake. Go to that spot where you, Lex, Masie, and I would go sometimes. You know, the one we found that one time where no one ever goes.”

  I’d think he lost his damn mind, except I can’t help thinking of all the weird stuff going on with Lex.

  “What if whoever’s following you follows us up there?” I point out, reaching for my shifter.

  “Make sure no one does,” he says, glancing at me. “Drive like that time we egged Mr. M.’s house and he nearly caught us.”

  “Okay,” I say, backing down the driveway. “But if I get pulled over, your dumbass is paying for the ticket.”

  Blaine and I hardly speak while we make the drive up to the lake. Not that I don’t try. Every time I attempt to get a conversation going, he shuts it down while giving paranoid glances over his shoulder at the road behind us like he’s looking for a car tailing us. I don’t see anyone behind us and, truthfully, by the time we arrive at our spot, I wonder if he’s on something.

  “I think we’re good,” he mutters as he straightens in the seat and looks around at the trees surrounding us.

  The dirt road we took up here is bumpy and dead ends where I parked so no one can come up here without us knowing.

  “Dude, what’s your problem?” I ask as I turn off the engine, watching him continue to look around the forest like he’s expecting a monster to jump out of the trees or something. “Are you on something?”

  “No. Although, I wish I was.” He bounces his knee up and down as he pulls out his phone. “Good. We have no signal up here.” He pockets his phone and lets out a relieved exhale, his head falling back against the headrest as he closes his eyes. “I am so fucked, man.”

  “Good for you,” I say in a cold tone. “But that’s not why I brought you up here.” I rotate in the seat to face him. “Why in the hell are you blackmailing Lex?”

  Shaking his head from side to side, he opens his eyes and looks at me. “I’m not.”

  “Then why is the unknown number that’s been sending her texts registered in your name?”

  He swallows hard, his haze straying to the window. “Because that’s what they wanted me to do.”

  “Who the hell are they?” I press.

  He shakes his head and shrugs. “I have no idea.”

  I open and flex my hands, struggling to stay calm. “Look, I’m trying not to get pissed until I have some answers, but this vague answer shit is really starting to piss me off.”

  “I’m not trying to be vague on purpose.” When he looks at me again, I see something that makes me pause. Fear. He’s fucking afraid of something. “I really don’t know who’s doing it. All I know is that whoever is blackmailing Lex is also blackmailing me, and one of the things they did was have me open up that unknown phone line. I didn’t send any of the texts, and I hate myself for being part of this, but what these people have on me …” He balls his hands into fists and lets out a shaky exhale. “If anyone finds out what they know about me, I’ll go to jail.”

  It takes me a moment to process everything he just said. And even then, I’m still not sure I’m following him.

  “So, what you’re saying is there’s some sort of group that blackmailed you into opening a phone line that they could use to blackmail Alexis?” Saying it aloud sounds weird as fuck. “But you have no idea who this group is?”

  He gives a nod, glancing at me again. “A few months ago, I received this text from an unknown number. Attached to it was a video of me … Anyway, there was some stuff on that video that no one can find out I did. So I did what they asked me to do.”

  “And all they wanted you to do was open a phone line for them?”

  “No. They’ve had me do a lot of stuff; one being hook up with Masie.”

  My gut twists at that. He’s not really dating Masie? If this is true, then I have to tell Lex. And then what? Will she go back to liking him? I’m not sure.

  “Is Masie part of this?”

  “No. She has no idea.”

  “So you’re playing her?”

  “You say that like you care,” he bites out. “You don’t even like her.”

  “I know. I’m just wondering why this person blackmailing you had you hook up with her.”

  He lifts a shoulder with his jaw set tight. “I honestly have no idea what they’re trying to do. All I know is that I’m going to do what they ask because there’s no way I’m letting that video get out.”

  “Why?” I ask curiously. “What’s on it?”

  He glares at me. “Like I’d tell you. I know where we stand. The only reason I met up with you is because you found out about the number. Speaking of which, how did you figure out I opened the account?”

  “You have your secrets, and I have mine,” I reply vaguely. “Maybe if you share yours, I’ll share mine.”

  He quickly shakes his head. “I’m not telling you what’s on the video.”

  My mind fills up with all sorts of ideas of what he could’ve possibly done, ranging from cheating in school to robbing a store. I used to feel like I knew him, but now I feel like he’s a stranger. Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t work together to figure out who this fucker blackmailing everyone is.

  “I’m going to figure out who’s behind this,” I inform him. “You want to help?”

  He wavers. “I don’t know … If they find out I’m helping you, they could release that video.”

  “Then don’t let them find out. All you need to do is text me if you find out any information that could help figure out who they are.”

  He promptly shakes his head. “I can’t text about this. They sometimes hack into my phone, which is part of the reason why I had you drive us up here. No signal means they can’t track my phone or open my Facetime app without me knowing.”

  “So they’re good with tech stuff,” I state. “That’s a good starting point.”

  He folds his arms across his chest, looking vulnerable and weak. “Look, I want to figure out who they are, too, but I’m not going to, like, try to find them. But if I discover anything that could be helpful, I’ll let you know in a non-electronic way.” He pauses, glancing at me. “Why are you doing this, anyway? Are they blackmailing you, too?”

  I shake my head, brushing a couple strands of hair out of my eyes. “No.”

  He studies me for a second. “Then why are you doing it?”

  I shrug. “To help Lex.”

  A small smile touches his lips. “I knew it.”

  I glare at him. “Knew what?”

  “Knew that you fucking liked her. I’ve wondered for a while, but when you sucker-punched me, I figured I was right.”

  “Yeah, man, I do,” I admit.

  What I don’t say, though, is that it probably doesn’t matter anymore. That once I tell Lex what I found out, she may forgive Blaine. That she
may go back to loving him, and then I’ll be left with a broken heart. Not that it’ll be Lex’s fault. She thinks our relationship and my feelings for her aren’t real, because that’s what I told her. Because I was too afraid to tell the truth.

  Always covering up my feelings.

  Story of my life.

  I’m really starting to get tired of it.

  “We should probably get going,” Blaine tells me after a minute ticks by and no one says anything.

  I check the time on the clock on the dashboard and nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  We grow quiet as I start up the car and begin the drive back to his house.

  Blaine receives a text the moment we get a signal again, and whatever the message contains seems to cause anxiety to burst through him.

  “What’s up?” I ask after about the fifteenth time of him fidgeting with the hood of his jacket.

  “It’s nothing,” he mumbles, scratching his wrist.

  “You’re lying. We might not really be friends anymore, but we used to be, so I can tell when you’re nervous.”

  “I said I’m fine,” he bites out, crossing his arms.

  “Whatever,” I give in, deciding I’m tired of his shit.

  Silence stretches between us for another minute or two, and then he heaves out a loud exhale.

  “I just received a text from them,” he suddenly grumbles. “They know you’re with me, and they … they want me to pick a fight with you.”

  My brows knit. “Why?”

  He gives a stiff half-shrug. “I already told you that I have no idea why they do the things they do. But what I do know is that, if I don’t beat your ass up by the time we get to my house, I’m screwed. And I don’t want to, I really don’t, but I also can’t … No one can see that video.”

  Again, I want to know what’s on the video they have of him.

  I thrum my fingers on top of the shifter as I make the last turn into the neighborhood where his house is located, trying to figure out what to do. If he tries to beat me up, I’m going to fight back, and that’ll probably lead to both of us getting arrested, though I’ll be the one ending up in more trouble. But I’m not just going to stand there and let him kick my ass either.

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” I tell him as I slow down at the edge of his driveway. “We’re gonna get out of the car. I’ll let you get a few swings in, and I’ll take one at you. Then you’ll hit me one final time, and I’ll pretend to fall to the ground hard. Hopefully, that’ll satisfy them.”

  “Okay.” He gives an uneven nod. “That might work.”

  “Just don’t hit me in, like, the ribs or places where I’ll break bones.”

  “All right.” He’s busting with nerves as I park the car at the end of the driveway. “Why’re you doing this? We’re not really friends anymore.”

  I shrug as I shift the car into park. “We were once.” Besides, I can handle a little pain. I’ve had to for my entire life.

  “Just remember that you owe me now,” I add. “So if you find out anything about these blackmailers, you have to tell me.”

  He nods, and then we both get out of the car to kick each other’s ass. Again.

  I just hope it’ll be worth it. That getting punched around a bit will help us get to whoever the hell is blackmailing both him and Lex.

  7

  Alexis

  The store owner isn’t a big douchebag like I expected him to be. He’s in his late-fifties probably, but looks more like a hippy old dude than just an uptight old dude. Honestly, he kind of reminds me of my dad with how laidback he’s being about all this.

  “As beautiful as the poem was,” he tells me as he hands me a bucket of paint, a paintbrush, and a drop to put under me so I don’t get paint all over the concrete, “it just can’t be on the side of my store. You should consider writing a book of poetry. My niece does that sort of stuff and sells them online.”

  “Um … yeah, maybe I’ll look into it,” I tell him but don’t really have any plans of doing so. Not right now anyway.

  No, right now, I have way too much other stuff going on to worry about things like that. Although, maybe when this is all over, I should sit down and start figuring out future stuff. After all, I’m going to be graduating soon. I’m going to need some sort of plan other than hanging around in Honeyton and making bad choices that lead to me getting stuck painting the sides of buildings and getting blackmailed by some asshole.

  Blowing out a breath, I leave the inside of the store and go out into the alleyway to paint over the words I stained on the wall. When I did it, I had just found out about Masie and Blaine. It was just a few days ago, but so much has happened since then that it feels like a different time. I got hauled to the police station, Loki basically begged me to clean up my act, Zhara started talking to me again, West and I kissed—a lot—and he found out what happened between Jay and me. I almost feel like my soul was split open and is now trying to heal.

  What changed, though? Sure, all of that stuff happened, but the catalyst, the moment everything shifted in my life, seems to lead back to that day I found Masie and Blaine making out in that pool. Why? Was it just because the last piece of my past shattered?

  Who the crap knows? Truthfully, I probably should be worry about other stuff, like getting answers to the questions on my list in my notebook. What I wouldn’t give to be like a PI or something. Then I’d know what to do. Unfortunately, I’m just Alexis Baker, troublemaker extraordinaire.

  Sighing at that thought, I get busy with painting the side of the building. Luckily, the paint color is an exact match, so I shouldn’t have to go over the entire wall. I think it’s still going to need a couple of coats since the color I used is dark blue, nearly black, and the wall is a light cream.

  As I lift the paintbrush up and down, I read over the words I wrote:

  Today, she learned the definition of betrayal.

  A thorn got lodged in her heart,

  But her heart was already woven with thorns,

  So really, did the betrayal matter?

  Maybe one day she’ll find out.

  But maybe she won’t.

  Not everything has an answer.

  — Signed with a Kiss

  I pause then lower the paintbrush, set it down, and take out my phone to take a quick picture of the poem. While I in no way, shape, or form want to relive what I was feeling in that moment, I do want the reminder of where I went and how I got out of there. And, even though the words are sort of haunting, they’re my words. They belong to me. They are part of me, like the scars on my body. These scars, though, are pink and not quite healed, but are working on it.

  Once I get my photo, I put my phone away then spend the next fifteen minutes covering up my poem. Then I balance the paintbrush on top of the bucket and decide to head into the store to buy a drink while I wait for it to dry so I can add a second coat.

  Mid-turn, a loud bang echoes through the alleyway. I stiffen, my gaze sweeping across the trashcans and crates covering the narrow area. While nighttime hasn’t settled yet, the sun has started to set and has taken some of the light with it, so everything is shadowed.

  Uneasiness stirs inside me.

  Maybe it’s just a cat?

  Convincing myself to chill the heck out, I hurry toward the door. I’m a handful of steps away when a figure appears at the end of the alleyway. They’re wearing a hoodie pulled over their head and are dressed in all black with a pair of gloves covering their hands. Warning flags immediately start popping up everywhere.

  My gaze strays to the door. It’s about halfway between us. If I run for it, are they going to run? Will I make it before they do? And who are they? Do I even need to be worried? Or is this whole blackmailer thing just making me extremely paranoid?

  I’m not sure.

  What I do know is that running for the door is definitely the best option, because I’m not about to stick around and find out if this is part of the blackmailer’s game.


  So, I take off in a mad sprint toward the door.

  So do they.

  And in that moment, I feel a sort of fear I’ve never experienced before.

  Pure and undiluted terror.

  Even worse, the person is fast. Faster than me. And halfway to the door, I become painfully aware that I’m not going to make it. So, in a desperate, possibly brilliant or possibly stupid move, I spin around and run back the other way. Then I dig out my phone and start to dial the police, yelling over my shoulder, “I’m calling the police. And I’m taping this shit.” The last part is a lie, but I don’t know what else to do as I reach the end of the alleyway, which is a brick wall. It’s about eight feet high, and a stack of crates are in front of it. I’m not sure if I can climb over in time, but I have to try, especially because I apparently have no signal back here.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I pocket my phone, not slowing down, and leap onto the crates. I can hear heavy footsteps pounding after me as I jump up and launch myself toward the top of the wall. I manage to grab onto it and start to hoist myself over it when I feel fingers wrap around my ankle.

  Panic seizes ahold of me as the person starts to drag me back down, and I use my other foot to kick at them. I can’t see what I’m doing, but I feel the heel of my thick boot smack against something, their face, I’m assuming by the way they cry out in pain. It does the trick, too, and they release their hold on me.

  I move quickly, not glancing back as I haul my ass onto the wall. Then I jump down the other side, wincing as I twist my ankle. But I don’t let it affect me. I run toward the front doors of the store. But right before I run inside, I glance over my shoulder at the wall.

  No one is there.

  that still doesn’t bring me any sense of comfort. For all I know, they could be running around to the front of the store after me.

  I go inside and duck down the nearest aisle. Then I lean against the shelf and struggle to catch my breath.

  Crap. Crap. Crap. What the heck just happened? Better yet, what was that person planning on doing if they caught me? Was it just to scare me? Or was there a more sinister reason behind it? And does the blackmailer have anything to do with it?