Bury Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 2)

by S. M. Soto

  “He said it was your idea. All of it. It was supposed to be me that night, just like I always knew it was. And that you were the one…” Her voice cracks, and tears teeter on the edge of her lashes. “He said you were the one who killed her, and that everything, even from the first moment we met, was orchestrated. You knew it was me and used me.”

  I’m going to kill him. I’m going to murder him once I find out where he’s hiding.

  There’s so much to be read in her eyes. I see her searching my gaze, looking for answers, wanting to find her truth. I read it there, so easily. She wants to believe I did it, but there’s doubt there, lingering at the edges of her hazel eyes, blending chaotically with the myriad of colors there.

  “I didn’t kill your sister, Mackenzie.” That’s the only explanation I give. Because even though I may not have taken her life, I did something else that was just as bad.

  Her tears fall, and she shakes her head, still not trusting me. “You’re lying.”

  I’m not sure we’ll ever get that trust back.

  “And if I was? If I did kill her? Then what?” I ask, my voice dripping with ice as I lean forward.

  “Then I’d kill you,” she says, so pragmatically, I know she’s telling the truth.

  “I never laid a hand on your sister. I…fuck, I made a lot of mistakes that summer. The first one was maybe believing Vincent had nothing to do with her death.” I wince as I say it, thinking about the crass way I hid everything for them and kept them all out of trouble because that was just what I did.

  “Stop lying to me!” she suddenly yells, slamming her hand down on the polished wood of my desk. It’s loud enough that it gains my disapproving stare. I open my desk drawer, pulling out the thick stack I’ve had for the last month and a half. Even though there’s another version of it already out there in the world, I still hang on to this one because, inside here, is what gave me the first real glimpse into the woman sitting across from me. The side of Mackenzie she never truly had the chance to share with me.

  I drop it on the table between us, and I watch carefully as her eyes shoot down, dipping into a frown that changes her whole face when she sees what it is. Surprise alights her features, wiping away some of her anger that she rolled into my office with.

  “You…you read it?”

  “I did. Before you released this new version, I read it. Wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. It made me question things. The things I did in the past.”

  Her lips purse, anger filtering back into her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you read it? I went weeks thinking you…” She looks away, out of the window at the side of my office.

  Another beat of silence follows.

  “That’s why I went to see you. To talk. To try to understand what all of this meant. Who you were and why you were really in my life.” Her eyes dart back to mine, rounded with wariness. “I couldn’t have killed your sister. The fact that I’m even having to explain this to you is fucking bullshit. I left Ferndale that night, after the party, for a flight to Brazil. I didn’t have time to meet the guys at the kissing rock. I wasn’t there that entire night.”

  She searches my eyes, looking for the truth, and whenever she finds what she’s looking for, she releases a sigh that sounds more like a mewl of pain.

  “What about the photograph I found? It was taken that night. The night Madison died.” I see it written in her eyes, the need for answers. She so desperately wants someone to blame for Madison’s death, she’s willing to scrounge for scraps and run with them.

  “It was just a picture, Mackenzie. It didn’t mean anything. It was sitting in my desk drawer for years. There’s no significance, other than the fact that was the last photograph we took as teenagers before college. That’s it.”

  Every part of Mackenzie deflates at my words. She covers her face with her hands and starts to sob. I’m so shocked by the outburst of emotion from her, I can’t even bring myself to get out of the chair and comfort her.

  “If…if it wasn’t you, then…” She hiccups. I’ve seen Mackenzie in many stages during our time together, but never like this. So emotional, so unhinged. I should’ve seen it before, how much pain she was in.

  How could I have missed it?

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I can’t help you if you don’t fucking give me something, Mackenzie.”

  “Why would you want to help me?”

  “I may not trust you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want answers, too. I’ve been wronged just as much as you have.”

  She looks taken aback. “Oh, have you? I didn’t realize your sister was murdered.”

  My jaw clenches. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I just don’t understand why Vincent would want me to think it was you. He could’ve said that about anyone else. Why you?” She asks the question pointedly—as if she still thinks I’m lying—and that pisses me off. It’s starting to feel like this discussion is running in circles. One moment, she believes me, then the next, she’s second-guessing me.

  “At the risk of sounding like an asshole, you weren’t on my radar then, Mackenzie. Summer hated your sister, and I steered clear. I didn’t even know about her and Vincent until later when he came to me for help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  My body fills with tension because, whatever way I spin this, she’s going to hate me. I’m not a killer, but I might as well be. “Just forget it.”

  Her face hardens. “No, I’m not going to forget it. I just told you everything, and now you want to skimp on the details and hold back stories? Fucking look at me, Baz. I was held at gunpoint by your friend. I was stabbed. I was locked in a nuthouse, and I’m barely able to stand on my two feet without limping because of what happened to me.”

  Guilt crushes my chest.

  “There was a video.” I pause, gauging her reaction. “Vincent and your sister slept together. He recorded it without her permission, and she was angry. He asked me to get rid of it, while he still pretended he had it. He was protecting her while still holding the truth over her head. He’s a bastard, yes, but he could’ve done so much worse.”

  “Don’t fucking do that,” she hisses. “Don’t make him out to be the good guy right now.”

  “I’m not. You asked what happened, and I’m telling you what I know.”

  “Madison and Vincent…No.” She shakes her head, her features scrunching with anger. “There’s no way. It doesn’t make any sense. She would’ve told me.”

  “I’d imagine there was a lot you didn’t know about your sister.”

  Her gaze narrows on mine. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Take from it what you will,” I say dismissively, not sure telling her about the last moments I had with her sister is a wise decision.

  There’s suddenly a knock on the door, and Mia pops her head inside, her long chocolate hair hanging over her shoulder. The second Mackenzie spots her, she stiffens in her seat, her face falling, for all of two seconds, before her lips thin and she adopts an expression that states she doesn’t care.

  I know better.

  “Mr. Kingston. I have Mr. Acker calling about the floor plan for the Hamptons resort. Oh, I’m so sorry,” she pauses, finally spotting Mackenzie. “I didn’t realize you were still with a guest. Should I come back later?”

  I shake my head. “Might as well finish, Mia.”

  She smiles. That is the thing about Mia. She is a happy-go-lucky woman. Definitely not my type, but she does her job well, so I can’t complain. “Right, well…” She pauses to look at Mackenzie once more, obviously curious about who she is. “Everything is set for the gala. Do you still want me to accompany you, or have you changed your mind?”

  In my peripheral, I see Mackenzie flinch. She stiffens her spine, shifting on the chair, pretending the news doesn’t bother her. When I glance at her, color is rising to her neck and cheeks, and it’s not from feeling bashful. She’s angry. Practically vibrating with it.

/>   What, did she think because she fucked up, life wouldn’t go on without her?

  Fuck that.

  “Yes. Please, dress accordingly. Give Wren Bonjoc a call. His team will be sure you have everything you need.”

  “Great.” She smiles, revealing twin dimples on both sides of her cheeks. “Also, I still haven’t been able to get ahold of Mr. Hawthorne.”

  My back teeth grind together at the reality of that statement. No one has heard from him since the news started printing the stories. Seems Vincent isn’t the only one who’s gone into hiding. “That’ll be all for now. Thank you, Mia.”

  “Of course. Call me if you need me.” She turns toward the door and pauses over the threshold to glance back at Mackenzie. “Have a great day, miss. I love your hair, by the way.”

  Mackenzie’s scowl deepens. “Goodbye, Mia,” she clips out.

  I have to hold back the urge to laugh at just how angry she is. Maybe what she said earlier wasn’t the whole truth. She obviously still feels something. It wasn’t all fake.

  “Where were we?”

  “New assistant?” she asks, an edge to her tone. I hold back my grin.

  “Very thorough. Best employee I’ve ever had.”

  She bristles in her seat, glaring daggers at me.

  “You’re disgusting. How very professional.” Sarcasm drips from her tone.

  “What’s disgusting about a sweet employee who’s good at her job?”

  She rolls her eyes and replies in a dry tone. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

  “If you have something to ask, spit it out.”

  Mackenzie glares at me. She looks downright murderous. “I have nothing I want to ask you.”

  “What’s suddenly got you so angry, Mackenzie? Jealous?”

  Her hands ball into fists in her lap, her eyes spewing venom at me. “I couldn’t care less. Fuck whoever you want. You mean nothing to me. You were a means to an end. I got what I needed. We’re done.”

  My grip tightens around the pen in my hand, and if I squeeze any harder, it’ll snap at the force. I have to coach myself to keep it cool and remain calm. She said it. Everything I already knew. And fuck it all to hell. Even though I don’t want to, I feel the effects of her words unfurl in my chest.

  “We’ll never be done, Dirty Girl.”

  She flinches at the nickname, obviously not ready for the memories that flood her mind all at once. She pushes away from my desk and strides toward the door. I spot the slight limp she has, and I hate it.

  “Where are you going?” I call after her.

  She pauses, her grip tightening on the doorknob. “Back to my life in New York.”

  “We’re not done here, Mackenzie.”

  “We never even got started, Sebastian. Goodbye.”

  Shooting up from the chair, I chase after her. Just as she reaches for the door, I catch her by the wrist and whirl her toward me. She fights my hold at first, trying to get away from me. I back her into the wall of my office, right next to the door. Her eyes are wide, her chest heaving, her tits grazing against me at our proximity. Resting my hands above her head, I lean into her, caging her in.

  “I need to leave,” she breathes out, her eyes lighting with heat. Craning my neck down, I get close enough that I’m able to smell her, her signature sweet and floral scent that still drives me crazy. Her breaths ghost across my face, and when I lean in, I hear her sharp gasp.

  “Stay,” I whisper against her cheek, my lips grazing the soft skin there.

  My office doors suddenly burst open, and Mia strides in with a stack of papers in her arms. “Mr. Kingston, I have the—” She freezes when she sees us. Her eyes are wide, her gaze darting back and forth between us. “I’m so sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

  The moment I just had with Mackenzie dissipates. She shoves me away from her, righting herself.

  “No. You’re not.” She brushes past me and leaves my office without so much as a look back. I grit my back teeth together, shooting Mia a glare.

  “Next time you walk into my office without knocking, you’re fired.”

  The color drains from her face. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  I fall back into the chair at the same time the door shuts behind Mia. I inhale a deep breath and rake a frustrated hand through my hair when I get a whiff of Mackenzie. She’s gone, but her scent is still here, lingering.

  She thinks she can run away so easily. She’s mistaken.

  My heart tightens painfully with each step I take away from him. I got what I came here for. A semblance of the truth. He didn’t do it. That’s all I needed to know. I can go back to New York, wait for the shit to hit the fan, and hope the rest of the guys will be convicted of something. And Baz…well, he can burn in hell for all I care.

  I lied in there. Through my teeth.

  Seeing Mia step into his office, with her model-like body, creamy skin, luxurious hair, and that sweet little smile that I wanted to wipe off her face was a blow to the chest. I wanted to show her how ugly the world could be.

  I was jealous. Plain and simple. I couldn’t see someone as beautiful as her working for Baz, without getting perks on the side. She is too beautiful of a woman, and Baz is too handsome of a man for their relationship to ever remain strictly professional.

  Is he fucking her?

  Does he call her Dirty Girl, too?

  God. I hate that I even care. If that is who he is, I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even waste my breath on him. But no matter how hard I try to forget him and erase him from my mind, I can’t wipe him from me. He is in my blood, every part of him coursing through my veins.

  Obviously, the idea of him going to a gala while pretending nothing is wrong in his life is what bothers me. Does he miss me at all, or think about me half as much as I think about him? What I am most worried about is that when he is going to be out with her, if he’ll think of me at all, or have I fallen so far, I’m not even a passing thought in his mind?

  I want him to think about me. I want him to go crazy with his thoughts. Feel the same way I do.

  I’m selfish and crazy for feeling this way, for wanting him to hurt. I want him to miss me so much it’s hard for him to breathe, just as it is for me.

  I want him to feel his heart shatter into a million irreparable pieces because I’m out of his life. Because that’s what happened to me. I thought I could handle seeing him again, but I was wrong. I’m barely functioning at this point. My only hope, the only thing I have to look forward to, is justice. But I worry after hearing that he can’t get ahold of Vincent that they’ve run.

  I’ve come too far to let that happen, and even though I said I was going back home to move on and absolve Baz of the past, I can’t do that until they’re dead.

  I do something I haven’t done in months. Something that brings me great shame, but I still find myself hiding out in my room, lights blacked out, laptop open, as I scroll through the Google alerts I have for Baz’s name.

  It’s the night of the gala, and though I’ve held myself off and tried to keep busy, here I am anyway, stalking him and his date—or his assistant, whatever the hell she is to him. I hate how good he looks in another tux. With his hair slicked back, a rogue long strand hanging in front of his face, like that of a rugged movie star. He looks perfect. And I hate how my heart starts beating faster and harder the longer I stare at him.

  His date, Mia, as much as I want to say she looks like a troll, she doesn’t. In fact, she looks flawless, dressed in a fitted white gown that makes her chocolate hair stand out against her pale skin. There’s one picture that was snapped in particular that has my stomach souring. It’s Baz standing for a photo on the red carpet, that bored, aloof look on his face, and Mia staring up at him with awe written all over her face.

  She likes him. And how could she not?

  A searing ache tears down the center of my chest the longer I stare at the photographs of them together.

  I can’t help but wonder what they�
�re talking about. Is his hand holding hers? Or will they do that later, out of the public eye?

  I wonder if—

  The light in my room flips on, and Kat walks in, arms crossed over her chest, eyeing me, then my laptop. “Stop it. You don’t know anything.”

  “I know he’s fucking her,” I retort.

  She rolls her eyes. “You don’t. Did you actually see his dick slide inside her?”

  “No,” I mumble, my nose wrinkling in disgust at the mere thought.

  “Then shut up.”

  I keep my lips zipped, but I do continue staring at the photographs of them together. I hear Kat step farther into the room, and the bed dips beside me. She hovers over my shoulder, staring at the screen with me.

  “She’s beautiful.” My voice is quiet and meek. I hate it. I hate how small I sound.

  “Yeah, she is,” she agrees.

  I crane my neck and shoot her a glare to which she shrugs. Some fucking friend, I tell you.

  “You know what else she is? She looks confident and happy with herself. That’s why you think she’s beautiful. You’re gorgeous, too, Mack, but you know what? This self-image you have of yourself, the comparing you do, that’ll never get you anywhere in life. It’ll never make you happy. You know nothing about this woman and have judged her just because of how much you dislike your own self.”

  “When did you become Miss Motivational Speaker?”

  She shrugs again. “When I realized one of my best friends wasn’t really a friend, but a vessel searching for revenge.” I’m stunned into silence by her words. My face slackens as I stare at her. Kat rubs her lips together and glances at me apologetically, obviously not meaning to let that slip. As we look at each other, I can clearly see now just how much I hurt her. Maybe it doesn’t bother Vera as much, but it hurt Kat.

  She blows out a sigh. “I’m still mad at you; I want you to know that. But I love you. And I want you to be happy. Doing this isn’t going to make you happy.”

  My throat swells with emotion, and the backs of my eyes sting with the pressure of tears threatening. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I think I was just blinded by my revenge.”