Page 62 of X's and O's

I cocked my head to one side. “She didn’t like that?”

“She tried to Mace me.”

The corner of my mouth lifted in a grin. I liked the sound of this woman.

“I also tried sneaking into her house in the middle of the night wearing a mask—”

“You did what?” Grayson gaped at him and then reached for the bottle X was still holding. “I’m going to need a lot more of that for this conversation.”

X slumped. “So clearly I am doing something wrong, because neither attempt went well.”

“What do you know about her? What does she like?” I stifled a laugh. “Obviously not flowers or men breaking into her house in masks.”

He thought on that for a moment. “She likes her vibrator. I could buy her porn.”

All of us answered in unison, “No!”

“Take her on a picnic?” Trig suggested.

X thought that over. “Do you think she’d be upset if I bound and gagged her first? Because I don’t think she’s going to get in a car with me any other way.”

Oh God, he was beyond hope.

“Write her a poem or something,” Ace offered andthen quickly tacked on, “Not in the blood of her enemies. Just pen, X. Regular ballpoint pen.”

“And not one you used to stab someone with,” Torch added helpfully.

X side-eyed him. “That was you.”

Torch grinned, and I would have bet anything he was reliving the kill.

They were nothing if not creative. For a while there, Ace and Torch had a competition going to see who could use the most random household items as a murder weapon. Between pens, irons, and a dog leash, it was like some sort of messy, murderer mash up of Clue and Monopoly.

“Speaking of poems,” I mused. “Has there been any more letters from our rhyming friend?”

Grayson shook his head. “No, it’s been silent.”

“Maybe it really was nothing?”

Grayson’s lips pulled into a grim line. “Maybe.”

“But you don’t think so?”

He shook his head. “I think they’re just biding their time. Drawing out the suspense. Enjoying watching me walk around with it on my mind.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” I promised him.

He gave me a half-smile. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation, and Grayson got up to answer it. “I ordered us pizza.”

He tipped the delivery driver and brought back three boxes of delicious-smelling grease and carbs. “Let’s eat.”

I took the top box off the pile and flipped it open, inhaling the rich scent, my mouth watering. I had a “date”later, so I knew I shouldn’t be eating now, but one piece wouldn’t hurt when it smelled that good.

A white envelope was taped to the inside lid of the box.

I froze, staring at it.