Bury Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 2)

by S. M. Soto

  “He tried to kill you. He’s lucky I can’t find him, or I’d kill him.”

  I’m shocked silent. I didn’t think Baz would ever choose me over any of his friends. Hell, a part of me isn’t even sure he believes my recount of the events that night. And if he can’t find Vincent, then where is he? What is he up to? Jack couldn’t find him either. It is like he disappeared off the face of the planet.

  I shift on the leather toward Baz, watching him. Could he have…? No, he wouldn’t have. I don’t mean that much to him. Not enough to kill for. But shit. He’s lied about so much already, what’s one more lie?

  Halfway through the flight, I start to doze off, lulled to sleep by the murmur of Baz’s and Marcus’s deep tones. When I come to, a blanket has been draped over my body, and the plane is empty, save for Baz who’s still sitting beside me, watching me.

  I shift on the leather seat, stretching my arms over my head on a yawn, glancing away from him. I’m beyond uncomfortable with the weight of his stare. How long has he been watching me sleep?

  “That’s not creepy,” I mutter, pushing the blanket off me. I don’t necessarily think it’s creepy, but I do think it’s odd. And if it makes him look away, even better. His lips quirk with amusement as if he knows exactly what I’m doing. “Where is everyone?”

  “They’ve already cleared out.”

  I swallow. It’s just us. That much is obvious. My heart kickstarts, pounding recklessly, and my core clenches, like it’s waking up from a painfully long slumber. As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Baz leans into me, and I freeze. My breath catches, and when our eyes lock, a thrill shoots down my spine. Bolts of electricity travel from the tips of my fingers down to my toes. Tension crackles in the air around us, and when Baz reaches over, lifting a strand of my hair, I stop breathing.

  He looks down at it, rubbing it between his fingers in contemplation. “This is going to take some getting used to,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. Before I contemplate further, he wraps a fist in my hair, jerking me toward him, and I gasp, my nipples beading against my shirt, as every molecule in my body begs for his touch.

  I tense up when he goes in for a kiss. Jerking in his hold, I press a hand to his chest, halting him. “I said no kissing.”

  He chuckles. The sound is warm and deep, and it stirs something inside me that’s been dormant for far too long. Baz leans in, and I slam my eyes shut, thinking he’s going to ignore me, but instead, I feel his lips press against my neck, just below my ear, and a ragged gasp escapes my lips. Somehow, neck kisses might be worse than a kiss on the lips. Tingles erupt throughout my body. He doesn’t stop there. No. With his teeth, he nips at the soft skin there, then drags his lips up toward my ear, toying with me.

  “Let’s go home,” he whispers, huskily, just before he pulls away, leaving me absolutely breathless.

  Baz doesn’t miss a single beat. In one fluid movement, he’s on his feet, leading the way off his jet. I struggle to catch up with him. My legs threaten to give out on me. How is it a kiss—and not even a real kiss—from this man, can leave me this boneless?

  Stepping inside the penthouse again is both bittersweet and stomach churning. A pang shoots through my chest as I look around. Everything is exactly the same. Nothing has changed décor wise, but it feels like everything else has. I can hear prior conversations whisper around like old ghosts. Echoes of the past.

  My chest tightens with emotion. Memories of that night. Me running from this very place, in tears, with a broken heart. I hear Baz step up beside me, and my chest quakes on an inhale as I work to pull myself together.

  “You can stay in the guest room down the hall from mine.”

  An icy pain drizzles through my chest. I know he’s offering me the guest room because he thinks I’ll be more comfortable that way, but it hurts. I tamp that pain down, brushing it aside.

  “Is there a reason I can’t stay in one of the other rooms in the resort?”

  “Because I want you close enough to fuck when I need you.”

  My stomach dips at his words, and it takes me a beat to collect myself. I force a dry note into my tone. “And they say romance is dead. This was a stupid idea,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Quite the contrary, I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in a while.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Oh, I’m sure. I’m sure you also thought this was a good way to win me back.” I don’t know what makes me say it, but I immediately regret it when Baz adopts a new expression. One I’m unfamiliar with. So many new things for us lately. He closes the distance between us, towering over me as he stares down at me.

  “What makes you think I want you back?” he asks, caressing the side of my face with a reverence that doesn’t match the cruel tone of his voice. I feel the sting of his words on my skin like a lash from a whip, but I refuse to back down. I refuse to let him see just how much that comment hurts. I need to play the part of a woman who doesn’t care. A woman who is here to get her way, and that’s it.

  “You said it before, not me.”

  “Make no mistake, baby, there is no us. This is me doing you a favor and getting to fuck you while doing it.”

  Pain seeps into my chest. His words slide through my veins and burn. Each syllable a laceration against my flesh.

  I turn from him, heading into the guest room, and I’m all too thankful when he doesn’t follow. I’m not sure if I can handle facing him right now. His words hurt. They’re abrasions on my skin, scraping and burning, stabbing at my heart.

  With clean lines, dark surfaces, and modern decorations, the guest room is just as nice as the rest of his penthouse. I snuck in here once and looked around, but I never physically slept in here. Not when I had Baz’s bed. When I think about his bed, I get a flash of that night. Those two women come to mind, and I feel my heart harden. I start to grow angry as I remember, and I hang on to that feeling, the pain his words have evoked. That’s the only way I’ll make it out of this alive.

  It’s been two days of being here in Baz’s domain, and I feel like I’m walking around on eggshells. The day after he crushed my spirit, stomping on it on his pristine marble floors, he had work to do, so I have the penthouse to myself now. There was another key left for me that gave me access in and out, so I decide to go out to the pool and sit. The weather is starting to cool in LA, but that doesn’t stop tourists from getting in the water and prancing around in bikinis. I sit on one of the loungers and people watch, fully clothed, with no intention of stripping down or getting in the water, not with all the scars marring my body.

  When I get back to the penthouse a few hours later, he still isn’t back, but Dan is. If it wasn’t for him, I might’ve starved for the last two days. He’s brought me lunch and dinner, and yesterday, he kept me from going insane while Baz was gone. I wonder what is keeping him. What is so important that he isn’t even trying to touch me?

  That is what has me so anxious. I don’t know what to expect from Baz, but I want to be prepared for the moment we sleep together. I need enough time to block my mind and my heart from further hurt. Sex with Baz has always been explosive, and our time apart has more than likely not changed that. That’s what I am the most worried about. I don’t want to fall into him the very second he touches me or wrings an orgasm out of me. I want to be stronger.

  I’ve been tossing and turning for the last hour, so I decide to hell with it and get up. I haven’t heard Baz come in, so I figure he’s still out, doing God knows what. I pad out of the guest room and pause in the hallway. My gaze is drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows and the incredible view of the hills and Hollywood lights.

  I head toward the balcony doors and open them, padding out into the cool night air. The wind is a little brisk tonight, blowing my hair around my shoulders, but I welcome it. I welcome the sensation of anything other than this sickening sadness that lives inside me. I take a seat near the crystalized fireplace that overlooks the view, and I just lie back on the lounger and think.


  Hearing a soft click behind me, I shift on the lounger when I see Baz walking toward me. He’s not watching me. Instead, his gaze is fixed on the view. I wonder how many times he’s sat out here and just peacefully looked out at the expanse of rolling hills and the glittering lights of the city. When he takes a seat next to me, I grow uncomfortable. I don’t know how to act around him anymore, without thinking of the past or thinking of the mess of the future.

  “I’ll go.”

  “Sit down, Mackenzie.” He sighs in exasperation, sounding tired. I plop back down and make a continuous effort not to fidget.

  “I see why you like New York so much,” he says, still looking at the view. “It’s different compared to here: the people, the way of life.”

  “I think this is the greatest part about being here, though. In New York, the buildings are the only view you see, but here, this? It’s breathtaking. Each time I see it.”

  Silence descends.

  “Been working?” It’s a lame conversation starter, and I beat myself up for it the second it leaves my lips. Christ, I’m the worst at this.

  “Someone has to. You’ve looked bored out of your mind.”

  “Well, yeah. I’m stuck inside—” Cutting myself off midsentence, I dart my gaze to his. He’s in the process of rolling up his sleeves, revealing those tanned, muscle-corded forearms, giving me a slight glimpse of that tattoo that makes my stomach turn. “You haven’t even been here. How would you know I looked bored out of my mind?”

  “Cameras, Mackenzie. Such an amazing investment.”

  “New addition?”

  He casts a look my way. “No.” My heart lurches, and I swallow.

  What does that mean? How long have they been there? Were they there when I was here before?

  “To answer the question that you’re too afraid to ask; yes, they were here before. It was how I knew what you were up to at all times.”

  My mouth drops open in shock. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”

  He scoffs. “You want to talk about an invasion of privacy?”

  “So, you knew? That whole time? Why not say anything?” I don’t understand him or the way his head works. If he saw all that, why keep it a secret? I feel like an absolute fool. He made me out to be this criminal when he knew exactly what I was doing the whole time.

  “Yes.”

  “You never confronted me. Why?”

  He seems deep in thought as he mulls over his response. One would think it would be an easy answer, but I guess not. I should know better at this point. Baz is a calculated man. He doesn’t make any decisions that don’t benefit him in some way in the end. So there has to be a reason he decided to keep it from me. How long did he know? I think back, trying to pinpoint the moment he was watching me too closely. I’m dissecting every moment of our time together, wondering if any of it was real. It felt real for me. Despite all the lies and the information I wanted to find on the rest of the Savages, I started to trust Baz. I grew attached to him, my feelings overshadowing my rational thought.

  “Because I wanted to see what you were up to. How far you’d go with your lies. And I must say, you’re good. Even had me fooled for quite a bit.”

  A piercing pain stabs me in the heart at his words. It’s a constant stabbing that makes it hard to breathe. I hate that he thinks I’m a liar, and I hate even more that he’s right.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” My voice trembles, and I despise that it’s giving away how I’m feeling on the inside. Our gazes clash, but he’s so closed off right now, I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

  “You didn’t. That would mean I felt something for you, Mackenzie.”

  I flinch, physically flinch, away from the harshness of his words. He doesn’t even blink as he says it, obviously feeling no remorse. I curl my hands into fists, relishing in the sting of my nails digging into my palm. Anything to take away from the reverberating pain in my heart and the shooting pang in my chest.

  “Good,” I say, clearing my throat. “As long as we’re on the same page. I meant what I said. You mean nothing to me. I’m here for my freedom. You can burn in hell for all I care.” I push up from the lounger with those parting words and stalk inside. He doesn’t follow me, and for that I’m all too thankful. The last thing I need him to see is the pain building behind my eyes or the tears teetering on the edge of my lashes.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, tossing my cell around in my hand, toying with the idea of calling Kat or Vera. Coming here, doing this, was a mistake. Maybe I’m not as strong as I think. If the way I’m feeling after our last conversation is any indication, I would say I’m weaker when it comes to Baz than I originally thought.

  Instead of calling one of them, I decide to text Jack instead. He’s been ignoring my texts. I’m sure part of it is because he hates texting, and the other part is because of what happened with Baz. He broke it down for me, but I can’t seem to wrap my head around why Baz would threaten him for being near me. It’s like he doesn’t want anyone on my side. He’s actively cutting off my ties to everyone I have on the outside. And I hate him for it.

  Jack: What part of “Don’t text me so your psycho boyfriend doesn’t kill me” don’t you get?

  I laugh out loud at the message.

  Mackenzie: He won’t kill you.

  I frown.

  Mackenzie: And he’s not my boyfriend.

  Jack: Could’ve fooled me.

  Mackenzie: Shut up. Just tell me if you’ve found anything yet.

  Jack: Nope. Stay safe. And delete my number.

  Rolling my eyes, I toss my phone on the bed behind me. Why can’t he find Vincent? A troubling sensation builds at the base of my spine. A deep pit settles in my gut, just wondering what he could be up to. The guy tried to murder me, so I wouldn’t put anything past him. I worry that being here with Baz makes me a sitting duck. I want to believe he’s cut Vincent out of his life, but I don’t.

  How can I? Everything I’ve seen up until now says the complete opposite.

  Blowing out a frustrated sigh, I shake off the cardigan on my shoulders, throw the covers back, and climb into bed. I’m just started to get comfortable when I hear it. The sound of footsteps. I tense, and when my door opens, my heart lurches. Baz stands there, leaning his body against the doorframe, watching me.

  “What do you want?”

  His eyes search my face, causing my cheeks to flush with warmth. I feel his gaze trail down my body, resting on the tattered shirt I’ve been sleeping in.

  “You.”

  A violent wave rolls through my body. I press my tongue into the roof of my mouth, trying to find a smart retort, but I don’t have one. Of their own accord, my eyes rake down his body. His sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, revealing the corded muscles there and the protruding veins that make my mouth water.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to get out, but that wasn’t part of our deal. I know that. He beats me to it anyway. He takes a step into the room, his overpowering presence suddenly making the air shift and filling it with tension so thick it makes it hard to breathe. He crooks his finger at me, telling me to get up and come to him, and I frown, not liking being at his beck and call. But I guess that is technically what I’m here for. As if reading my train of thought, he quirks a brow, and amusement glitters in those eyes that I love to hate.

  I throw the covers off my body, hating myself for listening to him. The smile that takes over his face is breathtaking when he takes in the tattered shirt I’ve had for years. It’s a Tweety Bird shirt that’s horribly faded with a hole in the collar that exposes my skin.

  “Nice pajamas,” he says, toying with the material, his fingers grazing my thighs. My breath catches, and our eyes lock. Heat flares in the depths, sweltering the room in unbearable heat. It’s dangerously hot, like the blue of a flame.

  I stop a few feet in front of him. “Shut up.” I smack his hand away, but it’s like he was waiting for me to do that because he catches my hand, using the mo
mentum to whirl me around. My back collides with the wall, and my breath leaves me in a gust. He hovers in front of me, pressing me against the wall and blocking my escape. My chest rises and falls sharply, my breasts grazing his front.

  We stare at each other. It’s a battle of strength, seeing who can outlast the other. I almost crumble when I feel the tips of his fingers slide against my thigh, toying with the hem of my shirt. His eyes sparkle under the dim lighting. He’s waiting for me to back down. He’s wrong. I press my lips together and narrow my eyes, daring him to try it.

  His fingers trail up, up, up, pausing at the apex. I hold my breath, hating the way my core clenches with anticipation. I’m embarrassingly wet just from a soft touch from him and his proximity. With the tip of his finger, he slips under the seam of my panties and pauses. My face heats with embarrassment as he swirls the pad of his finger through my wetness. Something flares in his eyes as he stares at me. It’s not approval, but damn close. He likes that my body can still react to him in such a way.

  It’s a struggle not to close my eyes and give in to the pleasure that’s encapsulating me. His jaw locks as he coats his finger in my juices, dragging it toward my clit and circling. Heat rises to my cheeks at the noises my wetness makes. It smacks around us, a blatant reminder that my body is betraying me. My hips buck, and I let out a gasp that spurs him on. My arousal percolates in the air around us.

  He dips his finger inside me, then pulls it out slowly. Agonizingly slow. I want to cry out in protest. It feels so good, but I need more. My core clenches around his digit, trying to keep him right where I need him.

  “Nervous?” he whispers, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. When I clench around his finger, he chuckles, taking that as his answer. “Thought so, Dirty Girl.”

  He applies pressure to my clit, stroking faster, but keeping his tempo with his finger. He’s toying with me. It’s glaringly obvious to me now, though my body hasn’t gotten the memo. I’ve fallen completely under his spell.

  “No.” I force control into my tone to hide the truth of what he does to my body.