Discovering Alexis: The Wildly Crazy Day
(Bad Boy Rebels, #5)
Jessica Sorensen
Contents
Benton
Betrayal
Benton
A Note and a Missing Car
Love Square
Being Followed?
Well, that can never happen again
Too Distracted
Zhara
Coming Soon!
About the Author
Also by Jessica Sorensen
Discovering Alexis: The Wildly Crazy Day
Jessica Sorensen
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Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen
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Benton
“We have a problem.” I sit down in the sofa across from Jett. The rest of the guys are gone on a mission and Zhara is sleeping in my bedroom. It’s only been hours since the Rogue got inside my house, and I already have another problem to deal with. I’m used to it, though—the craziness, the late hours, the little sleep, the constant stress. “And it has to do with Zhara.”
“Again.” He groans. “God, I don’t think I can take much more of this. No, scratch that. Fuck what I can’t take. I’m just worried Zhara won’t be able to deal with another problem. And we haven’t even told her about your theory that she might have been a test subject.”
I completely agree with him that Zhara has dealt with too much shit, which is why I’ve been procrastinating telling her about my test subject experiment theory. I only hope she isn’t pissed off when I do tell her.
“Actually, it’s not about Zhara—it just concerns her.” I sigh heavily. “It has to do with her sister.”
Worry flashes in Jett’s eyes. “Which one?”
“Alexis,” I say and Jett squirms. “What’s up? Do you not like Alexis or something?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it? Because you look like something’s bugging you.”
“It’s nothing.” He waves me off. “So what’s the problem?”
I can tell he’s lying, but I don’t have time to press. “You know Hacker Hearts Anonymous?”
He nods. “Of course I do. They’re one of the most infamous hacker groups.”
“Well, I got a lead that they might be getting ready to target Alexis.”
He looks taken aback. “You mean, they’re going to hack her?”
“I don’t know the exact details yet,” I say. “But I don’t think they’re planning on hacking her… They’re up to something else.”
He swallows hard. “We need to warn her.”
I completely agree with him. I may not know Alexis, but she’s Zhara’s twin sister. If anything happened to her, it’d crush Zhara. And I’m not sure if Zhara can endure anymore crushing. Sure, she’s strong, but the girl has dealt with too much shit the last few days.
“I think we should assign her some bodyguards,” I say. “Until we can figure out what Hacker Hearts Anonymous is up to.”
“But we’re already short on people,” Jett reminds me, giving a pressing glance around the nearly empty room.
“I’m not talking about one of us.”
“Then who are you thinking?”
I hesitate, unsure how he’s going to take what I’m about to say. “I think maybe we should call up our old team members.”
Jett’s brows raise. “You want to call West, Steel, and Ellis? Seriously?”
Letting out a deafening breath, I recline back in the sofa. “Look, I know we had a falling out due to a matter of different opinions, but they’re one of the best teams out there. And they’re trustworthy. Besides, if I’m remembering correctly, Alexis is friends with West, which might make it easier for her to get over the shock that undercover detective organizations exist.”
Jett appears reluctant, probably over his anger he’s been holding onto over West, Steel, and Ellis forming another team. But then his gaze wanders to my bedroom door and he sighs. “Fine, give them a call.”
Nodding, I get to my feet and dial West’s number, but his phone has been disconnected. Great. Tracking down a phone number for a member of the organization can be a pain in the ass and can take up to days. I don’t have days. I need the phone number ASAP.
So, I dial Ridge’s number, crossing my fingers he’ll be able to hack into the organization’s phone number files before the Hacker Hearts Anonymous finds Alexis.
Betrayal
Alexis
For the past seven years, I’ve been in love with my best friend Blaine. I know, I know. I’m a complete walking cliché. But I can’t help it. If I could change my feelings for him, I totally would. But ever since my fourteenth birthday, I get butterflies in my stomach every time he looks at or touches me—in a completely friendly way, of course; otherwise, I wouldn’t be babbling about my one-sided crush right now.
And no, I’m not silly enough to believe that getting butterflies means I’m in love with him. I know I’m in love with him for several different reasons. One, I’d do practically anything for him, even questionable things I normally wouldn’t do. Like, for instances, when we were in high school, I lied to his mom about where he was so he wouldn’t get in trouble for going to a party. I didn’t lie because he asked me to—Blaine would never do that—but because I have this uncontrollable urge to protect him.
The second reason is because I can’t stand any of his girlfriends. Sure, I pretend to like them, but that doesn’t mean I actually do. And half the time, I don’t even have a good reason for disliking them.
And the third is pretty simple. When I think of my future and who I want to spend the rest of my life with, I see Blaine. That’s it. There’s no one else for me.
Coming to this conclusion when I was fourteen was very unfortunate and has made first dates and first kisses seem pointless. Which is probably why, at eighteen years old, I’ve had a total of two boyfriends, kissed three guys, and … Well, that’s about it for me when it comes to the boyfriend department.
Life would be so much easier if I could just have Blaine.
“Oh, God, here we go again,” my friend Masie says from the lounge chair across from mine. “Seriously, Alexis, you need to just tell him how you feel.”
Shit. Did I just say that aloud?
“No way,” I say, readjusting my sunglasses.
The sun is hot against my pale skin, and I wonder if I should put on more sunscreen. I’ve never actually worn a bikini, since I burn simply thinking about the sun. Plus, I’m not a bikini girl—never have been. Masie’s theory is that I act this way because I suffer from low self-esteem, caused by being teased during my earlier years of high school. Which, yes, I know happens to a lot of people. And these people, I’m sure, can wear bikinis later on in life, if they choose to. But not all of them do, so I’m not an anomaly. When I tried to explain all this to her, she just shook her head.
?
??Oh, Alexis, when will you start seeing things for what they really are?” she asked. We were about sixteen at the time, and I’ll admit I was a bit more naive than I am now. “I blame books. You read too much, and it messes with your sense of reality.”
“My sense of reality is fine,” I replied. Seriously, did she just say I read too much? Jesus, Masie. I mean, she’s cool and everything, but the girl can be a damn ditz sometimes. “And what does that even have to do with wanting to wear a bikini? Maybe it’s just not my thing. Not every girl wants to wear one.”
“It’s not just the bikini,” she said. “It’s the clothes you wear. Seriously, you dress like you think you’re a Goth princess. And you hardly talk to people at parties. And don’t even get me started on dating.”
“I haven’t even gone on a date in a year.”
“Exactly,” she said, as if it proved some hidden point. “Look, we’ve been friends forever, so trust me when I tell you that all that shit you went through our freshman year messed with your head. But you’re not that girl anymore. You’re beautiful, smart, and funny. You just need to realize it and start letting other people see it. You know, let your wall down.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet, Masie,” I joked, mostly to annoy her. “But if you’re about to ask me out on a date, I’m going to have to decline. Not because I don’t like you and think you’re not pretty, but I just don’t swing that way.”
She sighed. “Oh, Alexis.”
She said that a lot when she was frustrated with me. She reminded me of my mom when she did it, but if I ever told her that, she’d get pissed.
I swallow hard at the sudden thought of my mom. While I try not to think about her or my dad, sometimes thoughts of them sneak up on me. Which might sound weird, but after they died in a car accident when I was fifteen, I made a vow to not deal with the pain. And that meant not really thinking about them. That is part of the reason why “the wall,” as Masie calls it, was put up. That’s when I became more closed off. It’s better that way. Easier. Because, trust me, I’ve tried a few times to let the wall down, but the pain is too unbearable.
“Earth to Alexis.” Masie waves her hand in front of my face, yanking me from the memory. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Um, sure,” I lie.
She draws down her sunglasses to narrow her eyes at me accusingly.
I sigh. “All right, fine. I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry. I was just thinking about something.”
Her brow crooks. “About Blaine?”
“No.” It might be the first time I answered that question truthfully, since he’s usually on my mind
A lot.
Okay, that’s a lie. I think about Blaine about ninety-nine percent of the time. But hey, what else am I supposed to think about? Blaine is the easiest thing to occupy my brain … and the less painful.
“I’m telling the truth.” I flip the page of the mystery book I’ve been reading for the last hour while Masie and I have been sun tanning. Or, well, Masie has been tanning while I doused my body in so much sunscreen I feel like a greasy french fry.
Masie is the opposite of me. Her tanned skin glistens against the sun. Add that to her sun-kissed blonde hair and curvy body, she’s practically a beach goddess. And then there’s me. Long, dark brown, nearly black hair; pale skin with a few freckles here and there; tall; and slightly on the gangly side. I look like I belong in a basement or a crypt. That’s okay, though. The look doesn’t bother me. It used to, back in the day when I actually used to wear a lot of pink and glittery things. But after my parents died, I decided to hell with it and became a new person. A person who wears a lot of black and studded clothing, and who would never, ever be caught dead wearing anything sparkly.
“You don’t belong in a crypt,” Masie says as she reaches for a glass of lemonade on the table between us.
“I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”
“Yeah, well, you did.” She takes a sip of the drink then sets the glass down. “You know, you talk to yourself a lot.”
“And you say that a lot.”
“Touché.” She grins.
I mirror her grin, then frown when the back gate to her house creaks open.
Bolting upright, I rush to grab my towel to cover up, because there is no way in hell I’m going to let anyone see this much of me.
“Don’t you dare.” Masie sits up and snatches the towel from my hands.
“Give me that back,” I growl, lunging at her.
Grinning, she jumps up from the lounge chair and skitters toward the diving board.
The gate is around the corner of her two-story brick house that she rents from her parents, so I don’t have a view of who’s coming back here. The last thing I want is for her younger brother, the pool cleaner, the landscapers, or anyone else to see me rocking a two-piece. Granted, it’s a nice two-piece—black with cute, little boy short bottoms, embroidered with stars—but my stomach, legs, cleavage—what I have, anyway—and even the bottom of my ass cheeks are on complete display. And I’m not comfortable with anyone other than Masie—and even her I’m not that comfortable with—seeing me like this.
“Masie …” I warn as I hurry toward her. “If you don’t give me my towel back, I’ll …”
She hops onto the diving board with my towel in her hand. “You’ll what?” She inches toward the edge.
“I’ll …” I rack my brain for a nice, vicious threat, my gaze skimming the backyard, the pool, the lounge chairs. When I spot the high-heeled, designer shoes she wore out here, an idea strikes me. I turn around, grinning at her. “I’ll throw your shoes in the pool.”
Her teasing grin fades. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wanna bet?” I pad over to the lounge chair, pick up her shoes, then walk to the edge of the pool, dangling her pretty footwear that I could never afford over the water. “Now, come on; give me my towel back.”
She eyes the shoes then sighs as she backs up. “Fine. But please just step away from the water. You’re making me nervous.”
I take a few steps back, remaining close enough in case she backs out of our agreement.
Frowning, she makes her way off the diving board and climbs down the ladder. As her feet plant on the concrete, the back-gate intruder rounds the house.
Suddenly, her younger brother, the pool boy, or the landscapers don’t seem that terrible of options, because the person who enters the backyard is none other than Blaine.
As always, he’s in full sexy form; light brown hair, the most gorgeous blue eyes ever, a rock-hard body, lean arms. He’s sporting board shorts and a green shirt, my favorite color on him.
Wait. Back the hell up. He’s wearing board shorts, which means someone must have invited him over here to swim. And since this lovely, two-story, swimming pool palace belongs to only one person …
I narrow my eyes at Masie, who flashes me an innocent look before a devious grin spreads across her face.
That little brat. She totally did this on purpose. Why? To humiliate me in front of Blaine while I’m wearing a bikini? Granted, she probably doesn’t think this is humiliation since she insists I look great. In fact, my guess is she thinks she’s doing me a favor. That if Blaine sees me in all of my glorious, ass hanging out form, we’d have one of those guy-realizes-his-best-friend-is-really-beautiful-underneath-the-punk-clothes-and-unbrushed-hair moments. That’s not going to happen, though, and Blaine more than proves it.
“Since when do you wear a bikini?” he asks, giving me a weird, confused look.
I wrap my arms around myself. “Masie made me wear it.”
A pucker forms at his brow as his gaze sweeps up and down my body, not in a holy-hell-she-looks-sexy way, but in a what-is-this-strange-creature-before-me way. “You look … weird.”
“I know. That’s what I told Masie.” I pretend to be all chill, yet I’m wounded, like a unicorn horn to the heart. Yeah, okay, maybe I do have a weird sense of reality.
“I think she looks great,” Masie protests,
whacking Blaine in the gut. “And you should, too.”
Blaine shoots her a dirty look. “I never said she didn’t look great. I just think it’s weird she’s wearing a bikini. I figured that’s your influence”—he steps back to eye her up and down—“since that’s pretty much all you wear.”
My stomach twinges. Is that a little bit of lust I detect in his eyes?
Masie smirks then does a little twirl. “I wear it because I look hot. What else should I wear?”
“Clothes.” He smirks. “You know, those pieces of fabric that cover up your—”
She swats him again, and he laughs, his eyes crinkling around the corners.
She shakes her head, but a trace of a smile touches her lips. “You’re such a perv.” Then she whirls around, drops my towel, skips toward the pool, and does a perfect swan dive into the water. When she resurfaces, her hair is dripping wet, water beads her skin, and the water makes her white bikini top kind of see through. If it was anyone else, I’d tell them. But Masie won’t care. She’s never been ashamed of her body, flaunting it whenever she can. In a way, I sort of envy her, but not enough to actually flaunt my body.
While she’s distracted, I pad over to my towel, scoop it up, and wrap it around me.
Blaine, whose eyes have been locked on Masie, finally looks at me again.
He frowns when he notices the towel secured around me. “Alexis, I didn’t mean anything by what I said.” He tensely massages the back of his neck. “You just took me by surprise. That’s all.” His eyes stray to Masie again.
My already cracked heart shatters even more. Since when has he been so interested in Masie? I mean, sure, she’s totally his type—blonde, curvy, and flirty—but he’s never showed any interest before.
I swallow the lump wedged in my throat, refusing to show any sort of hurt. See? This is why you have your wall. Hide behind it!
“I was going to put the towel on before you said anything, but Masie stole it. Well, until I threatened to throw her shoes in the pool.”