Bury Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 2)

by S. M. Soto

  I wasn’t sure I could trust Baz before this happened, but now, especially after seeing this, I know I can’t. I’m such an idiot to think he’s changed, to think things between us could ever be anything but fake. I’m just trying to figure out the angle.

  What could they possibly be meeting up and doing?

  Maybe keeping me here is his way of keeping a closer eye on me? A cold chill slithers down my spine. I feel like a sitting duck here, waiting for Baz to get back. After overhearing his conversation the other night, I know where Zach is. If I really wanted to, I could go to his house and figure out, once and for all, what the hell they are up to, since it is obvious, I’m not going to get answers from Baz.

  With my mind made up, I throw on a thin sweater, and I pause at the foot of the bed. I lick my dry lips, weighing my options. Coming to the only possible solution, I slip the gun out from beneath the pillow. My heart is pounding as I turn the weapon over in my hand. Blowing out a shaky breath, I drop the gun into my purse and hook it over my shoulder.

  I run through a quick plan in my head, as I make my way down from the penthouse. I can get an Uber to his house and wait it out. I doubt after everything that has happened, he’s going to let me walk in there with no qualms, but they’re not exactly leaving me with any other choice. I’m finding out the truth tonight, once and for all.

  On the entire way down the elevator, my heart is pounding. I don’t want to run into anyone, least of all Dan or any of the security guards. Casting quick glances over my shoulder, I feel sweat bead on my forehead, as I make a beeline toward the exit. My eyes widen, and my heart drops when I hear Marcus’s voice behind me.

  “Hey, you all right? You look kind of pale.” Marcus takes a step toward me, concern etched on his face. I dodge his advance, jumpy from carrying this gun on me in public.

  I work a swallow, trying to speak past the golf ball-sized lump that’s lodged in my throat. “I’m fine. Just getting some air.” I jerk my head toward the opaque sliding glass doors, my only means of an exit.

  His frown deepens. “Most women would sit by the pool or head into the spa to help them relax.”

  My lips thin. “I’m not most women.”

  His lips quirk as if he finds me amusing. “Yeah, I’ve gotten that. And look, I know we’ve already talked, but I want to apologize again for the part I played all those years ag—”

  “Are you done? I’m not going to forgive you. I don’t trust you, any of you, so please, just leave me alone and give me some damn space.” I brush past him, my grip tightening on the strap of my purse. I feel his gaze on me as I storm away from the resort. As I’m speed walking away, I realize I didn’t exactly think out my departure clearly. Running into Marcus messed with my head.

  I glance over my shoulder, the front entrance a ways away, now that I’ve all but run away from my encounter with Marcus, but I swear I can still feel his gaze on me. My heart lurches when I spot a car parked ahead with a Lyft symbol in the dash. I knock on the window.

  “Can I get a ride?”

  The young guy rolls his eyes. “That’s not how this works, lady.”

  I dig into my purse, letting out an exaggerated sigh, careful to keep the gun concealed. “I don’t have time for your bullshit. Here’s money. I need a ride to a friend’s house in the Hidden Hills.”

  He pauses, taking in my tattered appearance and the cash. After a few beats, he shrugs. “Fine. Get in.”

  My mind is whirring the entire way to Zach’s house. It’s gloomy out in LA today. The smog intermingling with the impending rainy forecast cast the sky in a gray blanket that leaves a permanent chill in my bones. It’s a direct reflection of my mood.

  With traffic, we make it there in under two hours. Much like last time, to avoid rousing suspicion, I have the driver drop me off a block away. I walk down the street, steering clear of Zach’s house. Opting to take a detour before I end up on his doorstep, I decide to rest at a small park a few blocks away. Taking a seat on the bench, I scroll through more articles, trying to figure out if I’m making the right choice by being here.

  Is this a sound decision?

  It’s obvious I’m putting myself in danger by coming here. Even more dangerous is that I brought a gun with me, but a large part of me feels like I need it for protection, now more than ever. My heart lurches when Baz’s name flashes across my phone’s screen. He’s calling me. He never calls me. I dart my gaze around, suddenly feeling like I’m being watched. It’s like he knows I’m here. Feeling like the worst human on the planet, I power my phone off, just in case he somehow finds a way to track my phone. I honestly wouldn’t put it past him.

  As I sit here, I keep going back and forth with myself. I promised him I wouldn’t do anything stupid. Things were so good between us the night of the gala, and that phone call ruined it.

  Why can’t he just tell me the truth? Why does there always have to be secrets between us?

  And why don’t I have the courage to ask him? That snarky voice in the back of my head pipes in.

  He claims I’m the liar out of the two of us, but I’m starting to get the impression Baz isn’t as forthcoming as he wants me to believe. With my gaze glued to the grass, I sit on the bench for God knows how long. It’s enough time that the sky begins to darken even farther, and a rumble of thunder booms in the distance. A trickle of water splashes on my head, and when I tip my head back, looking up at the gray cloud-filled sky, I feel more splashes.

  It’s now or never.

  With my heart in my throat, I pause in front of Zach’s house. Part of me wonders if I should use the front door and hope he answers it or try to get in the same way I did last time. Breaking and entering. Something tells me it won’t be as easy this time around. He doesn’t seem like the type of man who would let someone break into his home twice. Not without consequences.

  Making up my mind, I sneak around the back, just like I did with Jack. I glance over my shoulder, the rain pouring now. Thankfully, the trees and the side paneling of his house shield me from the sheets of rain. Keeping my purse tucked close to my body, I stay low, trying to keep an eye on the house. It’s dark with no movement inside. He still has those blackout blinds, making it hard to see inside, but none of the windows at the top of his house are illuminated with light, telling me he’s probably not here.

  I rest my back against the side of the house, trying to steady my pounding heart. I don’t know what I’m doing here. This could get me in more trouble with the law if I break in again.

  “What do I do? What do I do?” I whisper to myself. Slamming my eyes shut, I wait for the answer to come to me. When it does, my eyes spring open.

  “Go home, Kenzie. This isn’t you.”

  Pushing off the side paneling of the house, I trudge back the way I came, deciding to go back to the penthouse. Deep down, I know I shouldn’t be here. Madison is right. This isn’t me.

  Keeping my head low, I walk down the street, my cardigan tugged tightly around my body, as the rain seeps into my clothes, soaking my body, feeling like a permanent chill living in my bones. I make my way back to the park, and I sit under the awning while I order an Uber. When I turn my phone back on, I have dozens of text messages from Baz asking where I am. Apparently, he is handling something at Kings.

  That’s why he was gone.

  When my Uber arrives, I make the shortsighted decision to go to Kings instead of the penthouse. I don’t want to be alone right now. Because I know if I go to the penthouse, she’ll be back, and I’m not ready to face Madison again. I’m not ready to face the constant mistakes I keep making. In this case, Baz is the lesser of two evils.

  The drive is quick, my mind whirring most of the way. I pause at the entrance, unsure if I’ll be let in looking the way I do. I’m not exactly dressed for the club. The security guard out front eyes me oddly, and I straighten the strap of my purse on my shoulder.

  “Can you tell Baz that Mackenzie is here?”

  He nods, ushering me in. “He’s out
on the floor handling business. I’ll have someone let him know you’re here. He wasn’t expecting you.”

  I’m ushered to the top floor, and I settle inside the room, looking down at the dance floor. Droplets of water drip behind me, trailing after me from the rain. I try to spot Baz out in the crowd, but I don’t see him. It’s a little more packed than usual tonight, the dance floor filled with bodies. I pull my phone out of my purse, my stomach clenching when I see the weapon. Definitely not the smartest thing to do, walking around with a weapon. I’m just about to send Baz a message when I hear something coming from one of the back rooms down the hall.

  My body freezes when I hear the sharp laughter. I clutch at my bag, trying to breathe past the pain slicing through my chest. My ears start ringing, and I shift, slowly making my way down the hall. Vincent laughs at something, clearly speaking to someone on the phone, since I don’t hear anyone else in the room with him.

  “This shit has gone on long enough, Zach,” he growls into his cell. “You want to test me, brother? I’ve given you plenty of chances, and this time, it’s done. Kill her yourself, if you’re so goddamn paranoid. They have nothing.”

  I choke. He’s on the phone with Zach, which clearly means they’re all still working together.

  Sweat beads on my forehead, and suddenly feeling the need to protect myself, I dig the gun out of my purse. I hold it against my chest, my hands trembling with fear and adrenaline.

  All I’d need to do is flick off the safety and shoot if Vincent realizes I’m here, and he decides to try anything. I creep closer and peek around the room, spotting Vince splayed out on a couch, his back to me, rap music playing softly in the background, an open liquor bottle and the strong smell of marijuana wafting from the room. I listen in on his conversation, my heart stalling at the heated argument taking place.

  Are they…arguing? A deep pit settles in my gut the closer I listen. It’s sounds a lot like they’re arguing about me.

  “Don’t pussyfoot around me. The next time you pull some shit like that, you’ll be the next person I’m laying to fucking rest.”

  With the gun gripped tightly in my sweaty palm, I raise it, my heart racing, as I aim it at the back of his head. There’s no telling if I’ll even hit my target if I fire off a shot, that’s how bad I’m trembling.

  My finger hovers over the trigger. The metal is cool and heavy, and it feels so wrong in my hands, but as I home in on Vincent, it also feels…so right. My finger tightens on the trigger as I aim the gun at him. Just one more little nudge, and I can end him. I can end him and the rest of them.

  In the back of my mind, I can hear my sister telling me to run, to put the gun down and run far away. My hands start to tremble as I war with the decision in my head. My arms tremble with the weight of the gun and the heavy decision I’m about to make. Of their own accord, my eyes slam shut and flashes of the past spurt behind my lids. That summer in Ferndale, the way he stabbed me, held the gun to my head. I suddenly can’t breathe. It feels like Vincent’s hands are squeezing my lungs, restricting air. He’s killing me all over again.

  I clamp my jaw down, trying to stifle the sob. Just as the tears start rolling down my cheeks, I apply pressure to the trigger, and I tense, waiting for the blowback, waiting for the deafening sound of the shot to ring out, but it doesn’t come. Instead, my finger slips off the trigger when Vincent shifts, his eyes clashing with mine. Ice floods my veins, and my breath catches. Everything falls away at that moment. The edges of my vision blur, and I’m suddenly transported back to the woods, back to Ferndale. Instead of being at his mercy with his gun aimed at my head, he’s at mine.

  Slowly, Vincent shifts, rising to his feet as he sets his phone down. His gaze narrows, the muscle in his jaw jumps as he regards me.

  “And so she lives.”

  I swallow the acid building in my throat. “No thanks to you.”

  He smirks. It’s so off-putting, my stomach churns. “You’re not going to shoot me, Mackenzie.”

  My grip tightens around the handle of the gun, and I sniff indignantly. “You really want to test that theory right now?” I challenge.

  Vincent ignores me, slowly closing the distance between us. For every step forward, I take one back, until my back collides with the wall. I’m trapped in here with the man who tried to kill me. The man who lied about murdering my sister with Baz.

  I loathe him.

  I’d like nothing more than to see him roll around, screaming in pain, blood pouring from his wounds, but I can’t seem to get my trigger finger to work. It’s there, right fucking there, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

  “You’re half the woman she would’ve been, Mack.”

  Pain flares in my chest, and red spills into my vision. Before I can think better of it, I swing my arm, aiming the butt of the gun in Vincent’s face, pistol-whipping him. He stumbles back at the blow, just barely, and when he moves his hand away from his mouth, I see the blood trickling there. A small sense of satisfaction seeps into my veins.

  “Look at you now,” he praises, chuckling with blood smeared across his front teeth. Vincent steps into me, and before I have a chance to do anything but stand there completely frozen, he halts in front of the gun. Gripping the weapon, he shoves it into his chest, the barrel resting over the place his heart is supposed to be. Vincent leans into me, his hands going to the wall behind me, each arm caging me in on either side of my head. “So full of rage. So broken,” he breathes, leaning into my space. Something dark lurks at the edges of his eyes, damn near flaying my skin off.

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “Do it then, baby. Take your shot, right here, right now,” he taunts, hovering his mouth over mine. Anger boils in my stomach, prompting a hot tear to slide down my cheek. It would be so simple. I can pull the trigger right here and finally free myself and my sister, but I can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to do it, and it’s causing hot tears of frustration to fall in torrents.

  Vincent leans into me, his face resting against mine. Pain ripples through my chest, and my stomach revolts when he licks my cheek, tasting my tears. I flinch away from him, my chin quivering as I work to keep the impending sobs at bay.

  “You look so much like her,” he whispers, pulling back just enough that he’s able to look down at me. I swallow thickly as we stare at each other, hateful tension filling the air. Memories from the past flash before me, and before I realize I’m doing it, my finger tightens on the trigger, and I’m just about to pull it when Vincent is shoved back.

  It all happens so fast. The blur of bodies. The blur of fists colliding. A gasp flies past my lips when my arm is twisted at an ungodly angle, and I let out a cry of pain. A rough hand slaps over my mouth, silencing me, and I’m suddenly yanked away.

  Colors blur before me, and I feel disoriented. My back gets slammed up against a wall, someone’s hand going to my throat. I choke, fighting against the unforgiving grip. When the person’s face comes into view, I freeze, my eyes widening.

  “What the fuck are you thinking?” Baz hisses, getting into my face. His grip is tight and unrelenting, cutting off my air supply. “Are you fucking stupid?” he seethes, slamming me back against the wall for good measure. A quick glance around tells me he’s dragged me outside, into the hall. The music is loud. All I would need to do is get to the stairs to get away.

  I start to fight him. I buck against his hold on me, straining for breath.

  “Calm the fuck down,” he grits.

  We both pause, staring at one another, and his grip loosens, allowing me to breathe. We glare at one another, our eyes saying all the things we can’t. Tension suddenly fills the air, clouding the space between us.

  “You said you were done.”

  “I lied.”

  “If you do this, you’ll lose your chance. You’ll never get that happiness you want so damn badly. You understand that, right? You’ll lose everything.”

  “I don’t care!” I yell.

  “I told you I was h
andling it,” he seethes, the anger written all over his face.

  “You lied to me! I heard you on the phone the other night. It just proves I can’t trust you.” There’s a pang in my heart. “He deserves to die for what he did to me.”

  Baz’s face pulls taut with pain and something that looks a whole lot like fear. “That’s not for you to decide, Mackenzie.”

  My eyes narrow. How can he say that? Of course, it’s for me to decide. I was the victim, the one who was sent to a mental institution in pieces. I’m the one who bears all the scars from that night. Anger surges through my veins the more I think about it. “Get off me.”

  He steps closer, pressing me into the wall. I hate that a part of me softens at his closeness. I miss his smell. I hate that I miss the warmth of his body. It’s only been a few days, so I should not feel this level of abandonment from that short amount of time. The way he’s pressing me into the wall, the way he’s towering over me, penetrating my orbit—I miss him. I miss him so much it makes me lash out.

  Jerking in his hold again, I try to shove him away, but I’m no match for his strength. He doesn’t even jostle or move at my attempt, just keeps me trapped beneath him. His hand shoots up to my face, gripping my cheeks like a vise, forcing me to look at him. I stop fighting.

  Something tugs between us, that goddamn current of electricity, drawing us together. A beat passes, then another, before his mouth is on mine. The kiss is rough and angry. I dig my nails into his skin, tug him closer to me, and sink my teeth into his bottom lip until he grunts in pain. My damp clothes stick to my body, and my cold skin pressed against his hot skin has me moaning into his mouth. He digs his hand in my hair, tugging at the soaked strands, angling my mouth and head where he wants me and then devours me.

  My lust for this man and the way I feel about him make me act out and get angry. I pound my fists against him, pushing him away. He lets me push him this time, his bottom lip trickling with blood from my ministrations.