Bury Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 2)

by S. M. Soto

  “How the hell are you going to get that information out of him? You’re here, and he’s there. You don’t trust him; he doesn’t trust you. This is a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”

  “Well…” I trail off, catching his gaze, willing him to hear me out. He doesn’t. His mouth drops open, shock lighting his features.

  “You’re kidding. Tell me you’re fucking kidding? You want to go back, find a way back in his life? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I just need you to help me get in to see him.”

  “Why not try to contact him and have an actual conversation instead of lying? Ever think of that?”

  I glare at him. “Stop doing that. Stop making me feel bad for the choices I’ve made. He’s not going to want to hear from me. Our last conversation didn’t go well at all. This is the only way.”

  “And what if he hurts you? What do I do then?”

  My mouth opens, and I pause, thinking about the possibility of him hurting me. Even as I do it, no fear comes, because I can’t see him doing it. I can’t see Baz hurting me. Or maybe it’s me being stupid and naïve again, wanting to see the best in him.

  “He’s not going to hurt me,” I finally say.

  “Are you sure about that?” he asks, his brows drawn together, concern written all over his face. This is the first time I’ve seen him look really afraid. I can only hope I’m right.

  “No.” I blow out a breath and shrug. “But I’ve made up my mind. I need this closure.”

  “Why can’t you just let this go, Mackenzie? You really think he’s the kind of man who is going to trust you so easily after what happened last time? He’s not, I can assure you.”

  “No. My plan this time is different. The stakes are higher. I just need him to think I trust him and still care for him.”

  “You do still care for him.” Jack rolls his eyes.

  “Who the hell said that?”

  “No one needs to say it. It’s obvious to anyone with a fucking brain.”

  “Can you help me or not, Jack? This is my last chance.”

  “Why can’t you be patient and wait for the authorities to take them down? Let them go through the evidence in your journalistic piece. Isn’t that why you wrote it in the first place?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Tell me how to get ahold of him or I’m out of here.”

  “Fine. This time, your agenda needs to be real. You need to be your real self. Not Scarlett. Not some harlot with dyed hair. Just yourself. Show him who you really are. Strip yourself bare for him, peel back your layers, so he sees you really mean it this time.”

  “He’s not going to make this easy.”

  “I have no doubt in my mind you’re right. Just be careful. This guy and all his friends are still dangerous. I don’t need you doing any more stupid shit, understand?”

  “Yes, Dad,” I mock.

  After my meeting with Jack, I walk around the streets of New York for a while longer, just thinking. I’m trying to soak up as much calm as I can before the shit really hits the fan. When I make it back to Kat’s place, I’m surprised that she and Vera are there pacing around, waiting for me. I give them the rundown of my meeting with the lawyers and the next steps we plan to take, then I tell them about my run-in with Marcus. Just in case the bastard tries anything.

  “We wanted to surprise you with a girls’ day. A day of pampering before things get…crazy,” Kat says, dragging me toward the door, a conspicuous grin on her face. Vera picks up a lock of my hair, her face twisted with disdain.

  “It’s time to fix this. You look like you’re wearing a reject version of Sia’s wig.”

  A laugh bursts past my lips because she’s not wrong. The looks I’ve been getting from people haven’t been the kindest. And they’re right. It’s time for a change. Time to go back to my roots and embrace myself.

  After a solid seven hours stripping my hair of the black dye at Vera’s favorite salon, the hairstylist is able to return it back to normal and even add some honey blond strands to brighten up the color. With an aching back from sitting in the chair for hours, I’m turned toward the mirror, and I gasp at the reflection staring back at me.

  It’s me.

  Not the me who’s pretending to be anyone else. My eyes seem lighter, my skin brighter than it’s looked in days—weeks actually. With a few inches off my hair, the blond locks now hang around my shoulders, the shorter layers of the waves grazing the contours of my face and jaw.

  I don’t know how the stylist managed to do it, but she’s turned me into the beautiful version of Makenzie before she had any aspirations for revenge. A version of myself I never even knew was there.

  “I forgot how beautiful you are like this. The real you,” Kat says, resting a supportive hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently. She’s smiling at me from our reflection in the mirror, pride glimmering in her eyes.

  I rest my hand over hers, suddenly overcome with emotion. Because she’s right. The black hair was nice. It was different—the change it needed to be—but it wasn’t me. As I stare at my reflection, the long wavy locks of blond hair tumbling over my shoulder, I feel like I’m finally finding myself. Here in the midst of chaos and heartbreak.

  After we finish with my hair, we move on to whatever else is on Kat and Vera’s list for the day. When I’m prepped and primed, waxed of any unwanted hair, and my makeup is done to perfection, we head out to dinner at one of the spots we used to frequent. It doesn’t take long for the news reports to start rolling in, and I’m not surprised the Savages are at the center of it all. True to their word, Jameson and Baron managed to release those articles, and stories are coming forward about the Savages and the sins of their pasts. People wronged by them are making statements. It’s all happening. Within mere hours of giving the green light. I now understand why the lawyers warned me about making the right decision because they weren’t kidding. When they said they were going full steam ahead, they meant it.

  And for some strange reason, beneath all the righteous emotions on my sister’s behalf, I feel guilty. A part of me feels guilty that I’m hurting Baz in a way. This is going to ruin his career. I’m taking away everything he’s worked so hard for. I shake those thoughts and worries away. I’m only doing what he did to me—what they did to me. They took my entire world from me, and now I’m finally firing back, taking what means the most from them.

  She did it.

  She really fucking did it.

  People have been flocking to her side after reading her words and hearing her story. Articles have been dropping left and right, tarnishing the reputation of the guys, showing their true colors. I’ve let it happen. None of it concerned me. Those were their problems, their issues they asked for help cleaning up. It is out of my hands now.

  My lip quirks at the small embellishments Mackenzie has added to the piece since I’ve last read it. No doubt some other lawyer told her to add it. Her hate for all of us is a lot stronger than I imagined, but it was obvious, even as I read the newly printed piece, she was holding back quite a bit. Even with all that damage that has been done, I know, from a business standpoint, it’s still not enough.

  That fiery pit in my chest grows the more I think about our last conversation. How she so easily believed I could hurt someone. That I could kill her sister. It made me angry. At her and our predicament. Because she really knew nothing about me at all if she thought that was the truth.

  It’s odd, the way she makes me feel. On one hand, I want to protect her. I want to shield her from the pain she no doubt lives with every day of her life. But another part of me wants to hurt her for what she’s done. The way she so recklessly snuck her way into my life.

  None of this would turn out pretty. It’s going to end in a disaster, and I’m not going down without a fight. I didn’t have a hand in her sister’s murder, and I sure in the hell am not going to let her act of vengeance take down everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  Since her journalistic piece was re
leased a week and a half ago, I’ve put out statements on my behalf. The rest of the guys are on their own. Especially Vincent. He’s been MIA. His parents haven’t seen him, Dan can’t find him, and he’s been out of touch with the rest of the guys. Or so they say.

  There is something more going on between him and Zach. He was blindsided by the news that Zach was sneaking around at the mental institution, pretending to be him. I thought Vincent would confront him, or at the very least, kick his ass, but he’s done the exact opposite. Zach has no clue I know about his visits or that Vincent did either, and I plan to keep it that way.

  The more I think about it, I realize they are probably working together. That is another issue I need to take care of. I’ve already expressed my worries to Dan about Mackenzie. I need eyes on her at all times because I don’t know what lengths they will go to hurt her. No matter how upset I am with her, I don’t want her hurt. Even though I shouldn’t, I care about Mackenzie far too much to let that ever happen.

  “Someone’s here to see you, Mr. Kingston,” my new assistant says, peeking her head inside my office.

  “Who is it?”

  “Says she’s an old friend. She doesn’t have an appointment, and I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how she got up here either.”

  I lean back in my chair and nod. “Let her in.”

  The second my guest steps into my office, something strange happens. Like she’s an oxygen vacuum, all the air is extracted from my lungs. My heart is pounding and my dick, fuck my dick, is stirring at the sight of Mackenzie. I haven’t seen her since my visit to the mental institution, and she was a mess, for various reasons. Her hair was like a bad wig, half blond and the other half black. Half her body was in casts, for fuck’s sake, but now? This is another woman entirely. She takes my breath away, and I don’t want to admit it, but I think she looks more beautiful this way. Knowing this is her, with no fallacies to her appearance, does strange things to me. There’s a deep pit in my stomach and a warmth filling my chest, expanding with each inhale, before spreading through my veins.

  I have to actively work to keep my outward expression blank as she walks into my office, her gaze on mine, searching. I trail my eyes up and down her body, soaking her in. Her hair is a soft shade of honey and blond that tumbles around her shoulders in thick waves. Her face, now clear of any previous bruising, is just as stunning as the first night she stumbled into my restaurant, disrupting my dinner. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans with a giant hole at the knee, some sneakers, and a plain top. The ensemble isn’t anything special, but on her? She looks fucking magnificent. And the cherry on top? She’s alive.

  I eat her up with my gaze, my heart squeezing when I think about the possibility of what it would’ve been like if she never made it out of the car that night.

  “Sebastian,” she says by way of greeting. Her voice is strong and clear, just like the fire that’s slowly starting to build in her eyes. My lips quirk.

  “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon, Mackenzie. Or is it Scarlett? I can’t tell. The hair is throwing me off.”

  Her lips twist into a grimace as she takes the open seat opposite me. We stare at each other in silence for a beat, each of us taking the other in, getting our fill.

  “I came here for the truth. And only the truth.”

  I laugh, but it’s without humor. “I thought you had it all figured out. Isn’t that why you’re doing your damnedest to tear down everything I’ve built? Because you believe I’m a murderer?”

  I see the guilt flash across her features, but she masks it quickly, working to pull herself together. Squaring her shoulders, she leans forward, eyes imploring.

  “Cut the act. The faster we get this over with, the faster I can be done with you.”

  This time I really do laugh at the hilarity of it all. “You’ll never be done with me, Mackenzie. You know that just as well as I do.”

  Her lips thin into a grim line, frustration seeping into her turbulent eyes. “Why did you do it? Why her? What did she ever do to any of you to deserve that?”

  I toy with my glass of scotch that’s still before me. The ice has long melted by now, causing a ring to form in the alcohol where you can clearly see the chemical reaction. My body is rigid as I work through the levels and tiers of my frustrations. She still believes I did it, and a part of me wants to let her believe it. Let her believe she has all the answers because maybe she doesn’t deserve the truth.

  But I don’t do that.

  “I didn’t kill your sister.”

  “You’re lying,” she grits out, her nostrils flaring.

  I knock back the entire contents in the glass, relishing in the burn, as it travels down my throat, settling in my chest. “I’ve never claimed to be a good guy. In fact, I told you I wasn’t. But I’m not a killer. Never have been.”

  I watch it happen. The way the breath leaves her body. Her shoulders drop with what I can only imagine is defeat and relief. I watch her work through her emotions internally. She’s waging a battle within herself, and when she looks at me, with those eyes that are like an escape to a whole other world, I almost give in to her. But I remain impassive on the outside, watching and waiting for her next move.

  She doesn’t make one, so I do it for her.

  “Tell me about the night of the accident.”

  Her eyes narrow, like she doesn’t trust me, which is fair. I don’t trust her either. “Why?”

  “Because I want the truth.”

  Mackenzie looks pensive, as if she’s not sure what my intentions are, but blows out a breath. “That poker night, I snuck into Zach’s office while I was supposed to be in the bathroom.” She at least has the decency to look somewhat guilty about her actions. That is the strange thing about having her here. So much has transpired, I don’t know if the elephant in the room needs to be addressed or not. “I saw some things in his safe, and after that night in your office…” She glances up at me quickly, looking pained for only a second, before she looks elsewhere, not letting me see whatever it is she’s working through. “I went back. And I took that box I found stashed in his safe. At first, it had random stuff inside that didn’t make any sense. I took it anyway, somehow hoping anything in there would help me find the answers, but it wasn’t until Madison—” Her eyes widen, and she darts her gaze to mine as if she’s afraid to finish that sentence.

  My gaze narrows the slightest bit. I already know about the conversations she’s had with her sister, Dr. Aster told me as much, but I’ve never spoken about it directly with Mackenzie.

  “Until what?” I prompt, quirking an inquisitive brow.

  She sniffs, looking away. “Something kept telling me I was missing it. I had the answers right in front of me. That was when I put it together. There was rope, an old frayed receipt, and coordinates. That was the whole reason I was in Ferndale that night. That’s where the coordinates led me, and I found a bloody shirt that night. I dug it up. I had it in my hands. I know I did.” A single tear slips down her cheek, her chin quivering with emotion. “But then Vincent was there. He followed me, and I might’ve been able to outrun him if he didn’t have a gun. He forced me into the car with him, and…God, I don’t remember how it happened. One second, I was driving, and the next, we went off the road.”

  I grit my teeth, dying to get my hands on Vincent and kill him. I can clearly picture all of it happening. Vincent wasn’t there by accident at all. He knew what she found. After Zach told him about the break-in at his place, I’m sure he figured getting rid of Mackenzie was the only way to protect the guys from what they did that night. Between Dan and me, it’s clear Zach, Trent, and Vincent are hiding much more about that night than they previously led on.

  Could that be the reason Vincent wanted to get rid of Mackenzie so badly? Because deep down, he always knew it would lead to this, her digging and finding out the truth, putting them in danger.

  A part of my brain screams at me to take a closer look at her. Can I really take her words at face va
lue after what she is just about to admit? That she has conversations with her dead sister.

  “And when you say ‘something’ told you to look harder, what do you mean?”

  Pain and something that looks a whole lot like shame enters her gaze. “She told you, didn’t she?” Her voice is tight, as if she’s barely holding back her emotions. I rub my thumb over my bottom lip, keeping my thoughts to myself.

  I’ve never believed in the paranormal side of things. Is there another side? I don’t know, and I don’t really care. I am here now, and that is all that matters. I am sure if there is a heaven and hell, I’ll be damned to an eternity with the flames. There isn’t a doubt in my mind.

  The fact of the matter is Mackenzie believes her dead sister was talking to her, and I don’t know how I feel about that. Despite everything, I know how I feel about her. I hate her. I hate that I care about her because, even with all that hate, there is a burning desire, a burning sensation in my gut that tells me what I feel for her is unlike anything else I’ve ever felt for anyone in my life. In equal parts, I want to let that feeling go, yet hold on to it like it is a lifeline.

  We are bad for each other.

  Completely wrong.

  Every moment of our relationship was based on lies; yet, here I am, hearing her out, giving her the truth instead of turning her away. Listening to her side as if I have any trust left in me to spare.

  She feels like oxygen to me. I don’t like oxygen; I require it. Just as I require the woman sitting across from me.

  “What did Vincent tell you in the car exactly?” I ask, deciding to skim over all the bits about her sister. Maybe one day we’ll find a balance where I can touch on the subject, but that is most certainly not today.

  Pain flits across her face as she stares at me. I can’t tell if it’s because she knows I’m avoiding the subject of her dead sister or because the question is bringing up memories she’d much rather suppress. I have the urge to pull her to me and take that look away—take the pain away.