Kiss Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 1)

by S. M. Soto

  The second I step into the bakery, the few patrons inside pause. All conversations die down, and the whispers start. I already know what everyone thinks of me. Half this town thinks I know what happened to my sister. The other half thinks I’m crazy for falsely blaming a group of boys who are off to college in just under a week.

  Letting the whispers roll off my back, I step up to the counter, and Mrs. Beverly watches me with sad eyes as if she understands.

  “What can I get ya, Kenzie?”

  “Two slices of lemon meringue.”

  She pauses, and so do I, realizing my slip.

  That was one thing Madison could always count on me for, bringing her a slice of pie. A slice of anything, actually. It was our thing. Even when we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, I’d always stop in here and get her a slice of pie.

  My eyes burn with an onslaught of emotion. “I-I mean o-one slice—”

  Mrs. Beverly shakes her head, her own eyes growing misty. Just like she usually does, she cuts two slices and gives me a wobbly smile.

  “Two slices. Free of charge.”

  I wage a battle over my emotions. Trapping my bottom lip between my teeth, I clamp down hard, trying to stave off the tears.

  “Thank you,” I choke out, my hands trembling around the to-go box.

  I clutch the box to my chest, leaving my red-rimmed eyes downcast as I exit. I make my way down the street back toward my house, but loud laughter ahead causes fear to vibrate through my body. I almost drop the pies. When I look up, the guys notice me at the same time.

  “Well, well, well,” Vincent drawls. “If it isn’t the town’s biggest troublemaker.”

  Dread takes root in my belly.

  The rest of the guys laugh. I realize it’s only the three of them today. Marcus and Sebastian are nowhere to be found.

  Squaring my shoulders, I tighten my hands around the box of food and try to push past them. I won’t cause a scene, not when everyone in town already thinks I’m a psycho, but Vincent blocks my path. His heavy hand slams in the center of my chest, knocking me back. The air is knocked from my lungs, and I gasp, barely managing to stand upright.

  “Not so tough now, are you, Wright?”

  My heart races in my chest unsteadily. I fight to pull a solid breath back in my lungs.

  “Get out of my way or so help me God,” I warn. My voice betrays me, showing them just how scared I am.

  They all laugh, oohing over my show of bravado. “What’re you gonna do, princess? Spread more lies?” Zach taunts from beside Vincent.

  The anger, the sadness, and the guilt that have been building inside me recklessly burst. Scathing words tumble from my lips like a woman possessed. “No!” I bark. “I’m going to expose you all for who you really are. I know what you did, and I won’t stop until justice has been served. I won’t stop until the town knows you’re all murderers. I won’t stop until your colleges kick you out. I won’t stop until you’re six feet und—”

  Vincent moves so fast I don’t even see his hand coming until it’s wrapped around my throat and I’m shoved against the brick building behind me. My skull slams against the brick, and pain explodes, dazing me for a few seconds.

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Are you stupid or something? How many times do we have to tell you to keep your fucking mouth shut?”

  “Y-you’re … m-murderers-s,” I choke out from the pressure on my throat. Vincent’s eyes gleam with anger, and he tightens his grip.

  “You’re going to wish you never fucked with any of us, Mackenzie. If I lose my scholarship because of you, you’re dead.”

  He lets go and brushes past me, bristling with anger. My whole body is shaking as I watch them pass, and I think I’m in the clear until Trent smacks the to-go box out of my hands. It crashes to the ground, lemon meringue spilling out at my feet.

  “You won’t win this battle, sweetheart,” he says eerily in passing. They trot along down the sidewalk without a care in the world. I’m left standing there, my chest heaving with anger as I try to pull in steady breaths, rage burning in my veins.

  I may not win this battle, but I’ll sure as hell win the fucking war.

  The next morning, I wake to banging on my bedroom door. I groan at the deafening intrusion and shift upright on the sheets. My bleary eyes focus on my mom and dad who are standing there with anger written all over their expressions. My drowsiness abruptly dissipates, and I sit upright, fear ranking my heart rate up several notches.

  “What have you done?”

  “What do you mean?” I can’t hear anything, save for the blood roaring through my veins.

  “You’ve been served with a defamation of character lawsuit.”

  My eyes grow wide, and I bark out a sharp laugh. “I’m sorry, what? Is this some joke?”

  My dad slams a stack of papers down on the bed, anger coloring his expression. “Does this look like a fucking joke, Mackenzie?”

  I pick up one of the pictures in the stack, and my stomach bottoms out when I see what’s written on the garage door. I pick up picture after picture, and each of their garages says the same. There’s no way they think I did this. When would I have had the time?

  In bright red spray paint, “murderer” is written on the garage doors at each of their homes. Vincent’s words play back in my head on a boisterous repeat.

  “You’re going to wish you never fucked with any of us.”

  I scramble through the paperwork, skimming the legal jargon. I can’t wrap my head around any of this.

  “How are we supposed to help you, Mackenzie, if you keep doing stuff like this?”

  My breath gets lodged in my throat, tears springing to my eyes. “You actually think I’m stupid enough to do something like this? When would I have had the time? I know they did it—”

  “That’s enough!” my dad barks. “You realize this means court, right? Does it look like we have money to get you a lawyer, Mackenzie?”

  Fear claws at my chest. “What the hell would I need a lawyer for? I didn’t do anything! They did it!”

  “Just calm down. I’ll call Sheriff Keller to get help, and we’ll figure out what to do from here,” my mom says, sounding tired.

  Both my parents turn to retreat, and I clamber off the bed, my chest heaving. I’m hanging on by a thread. My emotions and my sanity are boiling over.

  “When will you both ever believe me?”

  “When you finally tell the truth,” my dad snaps, slamming the door behind them.

  I fall back onto the bed, dread settling at the base of my spine. I pick up the stack again, looking through everything.

  They’re framing me.

  They’re making me look like I’m the problem in this town, so they can all ride off into the sunset and attend their colleges without a hitch.

  I dress quickly and shuffle down the stairs. Even though I’d like to stay holed up in my room, I need to know what’s happening. I can’t let those bastards get away with something else.

  The kitchen is the most chaotic I’ve seen it in days. Mom is on the phone, and Dad is talking to my grandparents. I don’t know when they got here; I didn’t even hear them come in as I was getting dressed.

  When I walk over the threshold, everyone turns to look at me. How is it I feel like a stranger—completely unwanted in my own home?

  I head straight for the coffeepot and pour myself a cup. Usually, Mom has something to say about my caffeine intake but obviously not today.

  She hangs up with whoever she was on the phone with, most likely Sheriff Keller, before she blows out a tired sigh and rubs her temples.

  “I just got off the phone with Sheriff Keller and then Jared from the firm. He’s opting to help us. We can fight the lawsuit. They have no proof you did any of the graffiti. All we need is a solid alibi. So, Mack, before Jared gets here, where were you last night?”

  My face settles into a grim, frustrated expression. “I was home last night. I didn’t go anywh
ere.”

  “Goddammit, Mack—”

  “That’s enough, Michael,” my grandpa scolds. “She’s told you where she was. Instead of pouring your energy into being angry with her and not believing her, why don’t you actually try to get this sorted and help your daughter out?”

  My dad stews in silence. I send a grateful glance at my grandpa and wait for Jared to get to the house with what I hope is good news.

  I listen to the water running in Baz’s ensuite bathroom and fidget on the bed, my gaze constantly drifting to his phone that’s resting on his nightstand by the closed door. My heart is pounding.

  This is wrong.

  I know it’s wrong.

  Despite that, I still grab it. My hands shake with the weight of the device. Normally, it doesn’t feel so heavy, but right now? This thing feels like it’s a million pounds.

  It’s password protected, obviously. I almost roll my eyes at myself.

  What kind of idiot am I?

  I’m just about to set it back on the nightstand when an idea strikes me. It might not work. The odds are slim, but it doesn’t hurt to try. If I don’t do it now, I might not ever have the chance again.

  I hurry across the bedroom, digging through Baz’s laundry basket, picking up the slacks he wore last night when we went to dinner together. I dig in, searching for it, and I almost scream in rejoice when my fingers curl around the leather. I slide out his wallet slowly, staring at it for a beat, hoping to God it’ll work.

  With shaking fingers, I open it, pulling out his driver’s license. I shouldn’t be surprised he looks handsome in the photo. Most people on their IDs and driver’s license look completely different than they do in real life, but of course, the same rules don’t apply to Baz.

  Holding out his photo ID, I grab his phone. I try to line up his ID and the phone for facial recognition, but I can’t get it to work. I groan in frustration, trying one more time.

  This time, I place the picture farther away, and suddenly, the screen opens to the home page, showcasing all his apps.

  I choke on a disbelieving laugh.

  It worked.

  Fuck! It worked!

  I tap on the mail icon, deciding to search through his emails first for anything suspicious. While it loads, I slide his ID back into his wallet and place the wallet back into his pocket. I toss his slacks back into the laundry, trying to make it look normal. I strain to listen for the sound of the water, just to make sure he’s still in there.

  In the search bar, I type in the date of Maddie’s death, but of course, nothing pops up. That was years ago, and we were just kids. Of course, he wouldn’t have any emails from then. I delete that, then type in Madison’s name and the search comes up empty. I glance anxiously over my shoulder, making sure he’s still showering.

  I try Trent’s name first, scrolling through all their emails. They’re all work-related. The same goes for the rest of the guys. There’s nothing suspicious. When the water suddenly shuts off, my stomach drops, and I run back into the bedroom, my heart pounding.

  I jump onto the bed, closing out of his emails and locking his phone, then place it back onto the nightstand, trying to remember exactly how he left it before. I try for casual, lying down on the bed with my own phone. By the time he comes back into the bedroom, water dripping down his body, I’m feeling guilty as hell.

  Why did I do that?

  Of course, Baz doesn’t know anything.

  I’m betraying his trust. I’m turning into a fucking psycho. All for what?

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know why you’re doing this. You can’t lose sight of everything, not now.” Madison’s voice warns. I shake her off, trying to give Baz my full attention.

  When he catches me staring at him, he smirks, dropping his towel, and my stomach tightens, my core throbbing with anticipation.

  When Baz strides toward the bed, he tosses my phone onto the pillow beside me and yanks me to the edge. He spreads my legs, his fingers playing with my folds before he drops to his knees and shoves his oversized shirt up my body to expose my breasts. I hate myself when he eats me with a ravenous hunger. He groans as he plays with my tits. As he works my body, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of me, I vow to drop my case where he’s concerned. Because risking this? I refuse to do that. If I’m going to continue my research, it’ll be into the rest of the guys, not him.

  “You’re making a mistake. He’s the root cause of it all. Can’t you see that?”

  Madison’s voice continues to warn me, but I tune her out in favor of Baz. I get lost in his eyes, in the way he stares down at me with such heated possession, it sets my body on fire. I get lost in his smell, the musky rosewood scent that makes me dizzy with lust and has my heart beating a contented tune. I get lost in his touch, the way he works my body, the way he touches me and caresses me as though I’m his lifeline, and if he lets go, he’ll risk losing me forever. When I’m with him, like this, it’s the only time I truly feel like myself. Like Mackenzie. The real me. He’s reached inside me and managed to embed himself into my mind and soul.

  When I’m satiated, completely out of breath from all the orgasms, and unable to move, I turn toward Baz, who’s watching me.

  “You look tired,” he observes.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Well, you did just wring, what, twenty orgasms out of me.”

  He chuckles, shaking his head at my dramatics. “You up to coming with me to poker night?”

  I raise my brows. “Poker night? With who?” His mouth quirks, and my stomach dips, not in the good way. “Your friends?”

  “You don’t have to. They’ll never go for dinner, and the club … they’d be too preoccupied for that.”

  “Well, better now than never, right?”

  “That’s my girl.” He swats my bare ass, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. “Go ahead and shower. I’ll wait for you to get ready. Everyone pretty much shows up when they want.”

  I make quick work of showering and dressing. I opt for a simple white off-the-shoulder summer dress and wedged sandals. I twist my hair up in a bun and keep my makeup simple. After the gala, I don’t feel the need to go all out and get in their faces. I figure if I look more virginal, sweet, and down to earth, it’ll win me some points. Baz said we’d be heading to Zach’s place, which means if I could find an opportunity to “explore,” I need to take it.

  When I step out of the bathroom, Baz is already dressed, looking casual and too fucking hot for words. I try not to eye fuck him, but he really makes it difficult, and by the crooked grin on his face and the heated gleam in his eyes, I’d say he knows it.

  “How do I look?”

  “Good enough to eat.”

  A laugh bursts past my lips, and I close the distance between us, nudging him in the chest. “Stop it. I’m being serious. I want to make a good impression.”

  “They’ve already met you. Twice now, actually.”

  “I know that. I just want things to go well. I’ll be in their space tonight. I’m really trying hard not to fuck this up.”

  He stares down at me, questions floating behind his eyes. A frown mars his features, making him look more severe than usual. “Why is this so important to you? Having them like you?”

  I glance down at his chest, swallowing down the golf ball-sized lump in my throat before I summon the courage to look back up at him. While staring into his blue-green eyes, he makes it hard to lie. “Because they’re your friends, and I like you.”

  As Baz stares down at me, I get an odd vibe from him. Lately, I’ve noticed it more and more when we spend time together. It’s like he’s stuck in his own head, thinking too hard. I want to ask what it’s about, but at the same time, I worry about what he could really be thinking, and I worry I won’t be prepared for whatever it is.

  With the pad of his thumb, Baz tenderly caresses my cheekbone. With a mind of its own, his thumb traces my lips, smearing my ChapStick. A crease forms between his brows as he utters, “And I more than like you.”


  I freeze. My breath lodges in my throat, and my eyes grow round as I process his words. By the reproachful expression on his face, it’s obvious he’s struggling with the truth of his words, struggling to open up to me.

  Unable to help myself, a wide, toothy grin spreads across my face. I rise onto the tips of my toes and slide my hands around his neck, still smiling like a loon.

  Baz rolls his eyes at the pleasure his slipup has obviously brought me, but he still tugs my body into his, pressing my front against his warmth. “Don’t let it go to your head, dirty girl.”

  I laugh, tightening my grip on him. “Oh, it’s gone to my head, all right. Baz King does have a heart, after all.”

  He shakes his head down at me, his mouth twitching as he unsuccessfully tries to hold back his smile. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t go breaking it, dirty girl.”

  With no more self-restraint, I press my mouth against his in a kiss that stuns us both silent. His fingertips dig into my flesh, drawing me into where he deepens our kiss. His tongue strokes mine, and I moan into his mouth.

  “Fuck, you taste good. Let’s go before I keep you locked in the bedroom.”

  The laugh that escapes me sounds embarrassingly close to a giggle.

  Hand in hand, we file out of the penthouse and head down toward Dan and the waiting car. Just as he’s been doing, Baz helps me inside before sliding in next to me. I’ve noticed sometimes he enjoys driving himself, mainly on the nights he doesn’t drink, but when he does plan to consume any kind of alcohol, he almost always has Dan drive us.

  We merge onto I-10, and I rest my back against the leather, trying not to grow too anxious about tonight. I feel his warm hand settle on my thigh, and he squeezes, bringing my attention to him.

  “Nervous?”

  “What? No. Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  “You keep bouncing your leg,” he quips.

  Christ. I hadn’t even noticed.

  I shoot him a halfhearted smile. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Those guys are a tough crowd. But to get your mind off it, let’s talk about something else. How’s the piece coming along?”