Bury Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 2)

by S. M. Soto

  “Fuck my mouth. Just like that, Dirty Girl,” he growls, prompting my core to spasm with pleasure.

  When he adds another finger and crooks them both, angling them against my inner walls, I groan, working my hips on his fingers, fucking them. I feel the orgasm building, my walls clenching around his fingers, as he works me over. He slides his free hand up my body and fear and surprise encapsulate me when he wraps it around my throat and squeezes the slightest bit. Our eyes lock, his face between my legs, eating me, and me looking down, watching his fingers fuck me.

  I explode right there when he squeezes just a bit harder. I choke around his grip and come apart, my body shuddering.

  When I can finally breathe again, Baz slides his fingers out of me and helps me pull myself back together, righting my clothes. He doesn’t say a word, as we make our way back to the car, and neither do I. I’m trying to process what just happened. This man, who claims he doesn’t trust me, took me out to see the sunset while standing under the Hollywood sign and fucked me with his mouth against one of the behemoth letters. He’s confusing me, and that bit about me hating him once all this starts? What’s that supposed to mean?

  I don’t have to wonder too long. I know exactly what it means when we make one final stop at the club. I haven’t been to Kings since that night, and that already feels like ages ago. Almost like it was another lifetime.

  We walk through the entrance, hand in hand, a world’s difference from the way we entered the last time we were here. Flashes go off around us, paparazzi yelling out questions that I have to actively work to ignore. I squint my eyes against the flashing lights and writhing bodies, as we work our way through the crowd toward the upper level. On our way up the steps, one of the security guards, working the lower level, pulls Baz aside and speaks in hushed tones. Baz glances at me. Something in his eyes doesn’t sit right with me, as he nods at the muscled man and moves past him back to my side.

  “I need you to stay up here. I have a few things I need to do before we can leave,” he says, as he opens the door for me. I step over the threshold and pause, shooting him a questioning look.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not going anywhere. There’s something I need to handle down on the floor.”

  “Well, let me come with you.”

  “Was that an option? Sit the fuck down.” I jerk back in surprise at his tone. He doesn’t apologize, just slams the door on me, leaving me inside the upper level by myself. I glance around, taking in the room. It looks the same as it did the last time I was here. My gaze shifts toward the window and heats floods my body when I remember the way Baz fucked me there.

  I clear my throat, shaking it off. The last thing I need to do is to be thinking about Baz in that light when he just acted like a complete asshole. I try to sit around for as long as I can, but eventually, I walk around, boredom killing me. I walk to the blacked-out glass and look down, shock firing through my system when I see, as clear as day, in the corner, Baz talking to someone with his arm slung around a woman’s shoulders.

  I see red.

  They shift during their conversation, and I can clearly see who it is. It’s Zach. Why is Zach here, and why is Baz talking to him so casually? I thought he hated them.

  Or maybe that’s just what he wants me to believe.

  Betrayal courses through me as I watch them. My eyes narrow on the woman, especially. With a fire roaring through my veins, I stomp to my purse, digging out my phone, and dial Jack.

  “What don’t you understand about deleting my number, Mackenzie? Christ.”

  “Would you knock it off with the number deleting already, Jack. He’s not going to hurt you. I won’t let him. Now, me on the other hand, I need some form of protection here. I don’t trust Baz or his motives. He’s hiding something.”

  “What happened?” he asks, his voice suddenly sounding fearful.

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I just…I need something. Anything.”

  Jack releases a long-drawn-out sigh, and I know I’m working his last nerve. “This is the last time, you understand me? I’ll be there in a few days, and if you can’t find a way to sneak out and meet me, tough luck.”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  I let the anger that I’m feeling fester. I let it build until I’m on the verge of exploding. From my vantage point, Baz is down there “handling something” for close to thirty minutes, while I am hidden away up here. Baz isn’t just talking with Zach anymore. He had a gaggle of women surrounding him, and even though I can’t hear him or see his facial expressions, I can imagine what is happening down there just fine.

  I thought we had an agreement. I’m not going to let him touch me if he is fucking every woman he encounters. Maybe my freedom isn’t that important to me after all? If it means dealing with this shit, I’m not sure I can do it. I thought I could handle this, but the way I’m feeling inside at this moment? The rage inside me is telling a different story. I feel like a scorned lover as I sit up here, waiting for him to come back.

  Stewing on that anger, I formulate a plan. In just a few days, Jack will be here. I’ll need to find a way to get away from Baz, which is difficult when I’m staying at his resort, which I now know is guarded like Fort Knox. I need an excuse, something to buy myself time. My thoughts are cut short when the door opens, and Baz heads inside. He doesn’t look at me and doesn’t offer me any kind of apology, and that only fuels the rage that’s filling every orifice of my body. He has to know I would’ve seen what he was doing from up here.

  “Handle your business?” I taunt, glaring at the back of his head.

  He pours himself a drink. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you did. I didn’t realize when it came to matters of your dick that that’s what you held as the utmost importance.” I shoot up from the chaise, glaring daggers at him. “You can at least show me a shred of respect here, Sebastian. Bringing me here so you can flaunt these other women and get your dick wet is tacky.”

  Baz freezes with his tumbler halfway to his lips. “You think I owe you respect, Mackenzie?” His tone is cold, and it has a pit settling in my stomach.

  “You know you do.”

  “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing, understand me? You came to me. Wagered your body for your freedom. This is the fucking price.” He all but spits, shocking me. Gone is the Baz from earlier, the guy who took me to the Hollywood sign and wrung orgasms out of me with his mouth. In his place is this man. It’s Sebastian. The one who looks so detached, like he’d rather be anywhere else than here in this room with me.

  “We agreed. If I did this, you wouldn’t be fucking half the world.”

  Baz grips the back of his neck, rubbing there like this conversation is frustrating him. “You think you’re so special, Mackenzie? Your pussy isn’t all that, so stop treating it like it is. I’m fucking you because I can. Because I want to. I don’t need to do anything. I’m not the one who needs help. You do. You’re just like the rest of them—a leech, crawling back to me, expecting me to fix your problems.”

  That was mean.

  That was purposely hurtful, and I can’t stop the way my chest quakes with emotion. I bite the inside of my cheek, holding back the urge to cry from the strikes his words have had on my body. There’s a shooting pain in my chest that’s making it impossible to drag in a single breath.

  “If you’re fucking anyone else, I’m gone.” My voice remains even, despite the wrecked way I’m feeling inside. He pushes up from the bar and stalks toward me. He chugs the rest of his glass and stops in front of me, staring down at me with a disdain that has me wanting to curl in on myself.

  “I’m not fucking anyone else—as much as I’d like to. I’d rather fuck anyone but you. But you’ll have to do, won’t you?”

  I can’t contain the tremble of my bottom lip at that one. That one hurt more than the last. I feel the harshness grate across my skin, shattering my heart. Feelings of not being enough flood me,
just as they have my entire life. I wasn’t enough for my parents. I wasn’t enough for Madison. And I’m still not enough for Baz.

  My arm swings out with a mind of its own, and he catches it in the nick of time, squeezing my wrist in a tight grip, just before my hand connects with his cheek. He glares down at me.

  “Watch it, Dirty Girl. I’ll only let that slide once.”

  “Burn in hell, motherfucker,” I hiss, yanking my wrist out of his hold.

  “Already there, baby.”

  I storm out of there, my feet taking the steps down from the upper level two at a time. Anything to get me away from him. I’m not concerned about where I’m going or how I’m going to get there. I just need distance. Pushing my way through the crowd, I finally catch my breath when I get to the exit. Cool air blasts me in the face, and I suck in a deep lungful, trying to calm my pounding heart and the sharp ache in my chest. I spot Dan there, leaning against the Town Car, at the ready. A sympathetic look is on his face. He opens the door, and tears fill my eyes.

  I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder, doing my best to ignore the flashes and the loud chattering of voices surrounding me, worried Baz will walk out through the exit and follow me. When he doesn’t appear, I heave a sigh of relief and climb into the car, glad it’s just me. I’m sure he instructed Dan to see me home.

  When we pull away from the club, the first tear slips down my cheek. It’s slow in its descent, just like the disintegration of my heart.

  Baz is right. I really do hate him.

  I would say it’s been awkward living with Baz, but it hasn’t been too bad. It helps that he hasn’t been here. I haven’t seen or heard from him since that night at the club. When I asked Dan about it in passing, he mentioned that Baz has been staying at his own place. I don’t know why that knowledge hurt more than the prospect of him being out with other women.

  Is being around me so hard, so unappealing to him, that he has to stay at his home just to get away from me?

  The only benefit of having him gone is it gives me a chance to build that wall back around my heart in order to protect myself. That’s the only way I’ll survive this with him. It also gives me the opportunity to get away from here without him privy to what I’m up to.

  Our plan is simple. Jack will be here at two p.m. sharp to pick me up. He’ll park near the valet drop-off area, away from the view of the cameras. I’m not sure how many cameras they have out front, so, just to be safe, I asked him to park a little farther away. I don’t have an issue walking. There is no way I could invite him to the resort, without raising any red flags. Baz knows what he looks like and knows who he is. I will do anything I can to protect Jack.

  The timer goes off on my phone at one fifty-nine p.m., and I make the trek down from the penthouse to the exit. Readjusting the strap of my purse over my shoulder, I glance behind me, before walking toward Jack’s car. He’s far enough that I can’t make out his identity but close enough that I can clearly see it’s him by his build. When I’m sure I’m not being followed, I get into the car and breathe a sigh of relief. That felt almost too easy.

  “You look like shit.”

  I grunt in response, knowing he’s probably right. I feel like shit, too. I’ve spent the last few days tossing and turning, thinking about Baz, thinking about Madison and the rest of the Savages. My head has been an endless loop of thoughts that I just want to stop.

  Jack and I drive in a comfortable silence, until we pull up to a single-story house in the Van Nuy neighborhood. My brows dip, and I shoot him a look.

  “Where are we exactly?”

  “Airbnb, baby. I refuse to risk someone stealing my equipment at a raunchy motel.”

  I nod, knowing he’s probably right. The last motel I stayed at wasn’t exactly the safest place for anyone, least of all a woman with no form of protection. And, of course, the second we’re inside, Jack doesn’t even give me a chance to sit, let alone breathe. He’s on my ass as soon as we step through the door.

  “Before we go any further, you better fucking explain. What is happening, and why do you need protection?”

  I break it down for Jack, telling him what I saw at Kings and what I learned about Zach using Vincent’s name at the mental institution. This isn’t just about me needing protection, but me needing to confide in someone else and have them reassure me that I’m not crazy. That everything happening isn’t just a coincidence, and it does need to be dealt with.

  He sighs, hands on his hips, gaze fixed on the ceiling for help. He does this often with me. It’s usually how I know I’m about to get my way. Turning on his heel, he digs in a black duffel bag that’s on the floor near the couch, and my breath catches when he pulls something out.

  “This is for protection. You understand me? I’m going to teach you how to use it, but I swear to God, Mackenzie, I need you to promise you won’t hurt yourself or anyone else with this.” I glance up at him and soften at the pleading look in his eyes.

  My chest expands on an inhale. “I promise.”

  I glance back at the black gun that’s in Jack’s hand. I’ve never touched a gun. Never had any reason to. But now I do. It’s just for protection, a safety precaution of sorts. Or at the very least, that’s what I tell Jack and myself so many times, I hope at least one of us believes the lie.

  Jack spends the rest of the afternoon teaching me how to use it in case of an emergency. If possible, holding the weapon in my hands is a lot scarier than looking at it. It’s heavy as hell and has the potential to end lives with just the single pull of the trigger. It’s scary and thrilling. I don’t know how I’m going to bring a gun back to the penthouse under the radar, without Baz or Dan knowing, but I’m going to try. I’m not taking any more chances. I can’t trust anyone, and this is the only thing I can trust. This gun will keep me alive.

  Just as I’m putting the dangerous thing in my purse, my cell shrills, echoing around us, and I jump. Jack and I share a look. Surprise turns to worry as I look down at the caller ID. It’s Baz. We haven’t talked in days. He hasn’t even so much as checked in on me. What could he possibly want now? Does he know where I am and what I’m doing?

  “Don’t answer it. He could be tracking you,” Jack blurts. I shoot him a dry look.

  “He’s a businessman, not the goddamn FBI.”

  Still uncertain, I decide to let the call go to voicemail. I wait to see if he leaves a message. He doesn’t, but he does send a text.

  Baz: Be ready by eight p.m. Dan will be picking you up and driving you.

  Mackenzie: Driving me where?

  I wait for a response, but I’m not all that surprised when I don’t get one. Uncertainty pools in my belly as I say goodbye to Jack. We eye each other with fear when he drops me off. I know he’s worried about me, especially now that I have a gun, but I do my best to remain calm on the outside, for his sake at least.

  Keeping my purse close to my body, too afraid to let it out of my sight, I enter the resort, feeling like a spotlight shines on me with each step I take. I’m just on my way to the elevator, thinking I’ve made it through okay, when the doors glide open and there stands Dan. With his arms crossed in front of him, he nods his head at me.

  “Ms. Wright.”

  “Dan,” I say, my voice too high-pitched and breathy. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Mr. King thought it best I show you what you’re expected to wear tonight.”

  I tighten my grip on my purse and shift anxiously on my feet the entire way up to the penthouse level. I feel the sweat beading on my forehead. I worry that my purse looks too bulky. He’s a bodyguard of sorts. Does he know how to detect if someone has a gun on them?

  “There a problem?” he asks, noticing my fidgeting.

  I jerk violently. “What? No. No, of course not!” I all but shout, feeling jumpy. Dan’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything to me. The elevator dings once we’re on the penthouse level, and I all but book it to the door, swiping my key, forgetting that Dan still has to e
xplain.

  “Your dress for tonight is laid out on your bed. Please be in the lobby by eight p.m., so we can be on time.”

  I nod jerkily and swallow, sweating through my clothes, wishing he would just leave already. Once he starts heading for the door, I blow out a sigh of relief, but freeze when he turns back to me.

  “You sure you’re okay, Ms. Wright?”

  “Mm-hmm. I just need a warm shower is all.”

  He eyes me for a few solid beats before he lets himself out, and I all but collapse with relief. I head into my bedroom, careful not to open my purse until I’m safely inside. I don’t know if Baz has cameras in here, but if he does, I need to do this where he won’t see me.

  I climb on the bed and pull back the sheets and slide under them. With the comforter covering me, I take the weapon out of my bag, and my heart jerks unsteadily at its weight. I hide it under my pillow for now, until I can find a better, safer place for it.

  That’ll have to do.

  I step back from the mirror, taking in the entirety of my reflection. After a warm shower, I started getting ready for tonight with Baz and whatever that entailed. But by the looks of what he left me to wear, I can imagine just fine what’s going to happen tonight. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around why he’s making it such a big deal.

  If it’s just sex, why aren’t we doing it here? Why are we going somewhere else, like this is some big occasion?

  The dress Baz left on the bed is fancy, but not as fancy as the one I wore to the gala. It’s obvious we aren’t going to an event on that scale, but we are going somewhere that does require I dress up. The dress is stunning—emerald green satin with a high slit running up my left thigh and ruching at the waist. It hugs my body in all the right places. The low, plunging neckline exposes just enough cleavage to be sexy but not overly exposed. My back is exposed in a low V, leaving little to the imagination.

  I feel like a million dollars as I look at myself in the mirror, my blond curls tumbling around my shoulders and my subtle makeup highlighting my eyes. I’m a world away from the mess I was earlier, but I still feel the same inside. Like I’ll never be quite good enough to be the woman on his arm, whether I want to be or not.