by Lora Leigh
She picked up her wine and sipped from it as she met their brooding looks.
"Keiley," Jethro finally answered. "It's not a matter of how the picture looks. It's a territorial thing. But even more than that, it's a matter of the insults that could be directed to you. I'd prefer not to kill over this. But I will."
Keiley stared at Mac, hoping for a little backup.
"Don't look at me." He shook his head. "I agree with Jethro. Our home was invaded and our privacy violated. Your privacy violated. I won't let that go."
"This isn't the Middle Ages," she snapped back. "And I don't need either one of you protecting my honor. Would you like to know the sheer number of women who have at some point had some lowlife bastard post pictures of them? And let's not even get into the women who post the pictures themselves. Do you really think the fact that our picture is up there is going to be anything but a three-day wonder?"
"Do you really think I want anyone seeing my bare ass and you sandwiched between me and Mac?" Jethro bit out. "Excuse me here a minute, Keiley, but I can safely say there are no pictures of me buck naked anywhere on the Internet."
Oh boy. This would not be a good time to point out that she knew better. She dropped her head, staring at her bare toes intently rather than at him or Mac. Because it was definitely the first time a picture of her nudity had been displayed anywhere. But these two were another story.
Jeeze, one would think with them being in the FBI, they would have checked these things. Duh! Get a clue. It was one of the first
things she had checked for the night she had met Mac. Hell, she still had those pictures on one of her backup discs. She had just forgotten about them. Maybe she should have mentioned it to Mac when she started to, years ago. She just assumed that with him being in the FBI and that being his bare ass and all, he would have checked it out for himself.
Big mistake there.
"I don't like that look on your face, Kei," Mac suddenly growled.
"What look?" Her gaze jerked to his, eyes wide, and a hell of an attempt at false innocence.
"You found pictures of us?" The abject horror in his gaze would have been amusing under the circumstances.
"Well, in your defense, the pictures are not listed under your names. I promise."
"Names? Pictures?" Jethro snarled. "Not of me."
They were amusing, she had to give them credit. Unfortunately, she might have to wait a while to laugh. She cleared her throat instead.
"Stag party. Chet Waterson. Really, I had to type in a lot of key words to find those pictures. I swear."
"Where's Chet now?" Mac asked darkly.
"Texas."
"When this is over, I'm going to kill him."
She could tell by the look on his face that he knew what was in the pictures.
"She was really a cute little blonde, Mac." Keiley gave him a droll look. "I think she was really proud of that picture, too. It was on her Web site for several months before she took it down. But by then it had spread like a virus. You two were very popular for a while."
"Good Lord, she's enjoying this." Jethro was staring at her as though he had no clue she had a sense of humor.
"I thought you would have known, to be honest." She stared back at them in confusion.
"You two were pretty wild back then. Didn't it occur to you that someone might take pictures? A video? Something?"
Evidently it hadn't.
"Look, I don't like this any more than you do. My bare butt might not be showing, but someone has a picture of me enjoying the hell out of having my bare butt covered. But let's be realistic about this. There's not a damned thing we can do to stop it. That doesn't mean we have to be ashamed of it."
"You are the girl who cringes at the thought of anyone gossiping about us, right?" Mac snapped as he jerked to his feet and went to the refrigerator. She knew exactly what he was after.
Two beers. He handed one to Jethro before twisting the cap of his with a furious movement of his wrist.
"Damaging gossip. Lies. Yes," she amended. "But do you really think we're the only ones playing bedroom games in this county?" She snorted. "Or the only ones who will be living openly in a ménage relationship? You know better, Mac."
His pride was smarting, though, and she knew it.
"That's not the point," he retorted furiously.
"No, the point is that someone stole it and there's no way we can take it back," she guessed. "You can't control it, so you have to fight against it. If you do that, then the gossip will only get worse. We go out, hold our heads up, and show them we don't give a damn, and it will become old news."
"Except to the perverted flakes jacking off to the thought of you being double-fucked by us?" His voice rose angrily.
"Yeah, well, what about the perverted women masturbating to the thought of being between you and Jethro? Just think of all the hot dogs we'll sell at the festival next month."
She swore they paled. Both of them.
"Call Gladsteen in cybercontrol now." Mac turned to Jethro. "Now. Get Delia's e-mail address, it's in my address book. I want it targeted. I want every computer that attachment went to, was forwarded to, or viewed by, annihilated."
"Gladsteen will charge you the moon."
"I'll pay fucking Venus!" Mac snapped. "I don't give a fuck. Do it."
"I'll call her."
"Her?" Keiley frowned. "Gladsteen is a her?"
Jethro ignored her. He moved from the kitchen, his feet pounding up the stairs.
"Gladsteen is a her?" She turned on Mac.
"I'm going to my office." Mac finished his beer. "Come in here and sleep on the couch while I program in some information on that program you made for me. This shit is getting taken care of."
He came to his feet with a surge of energy she wished she could just imitate.
"Who is Gladsteen?" She wasn't letting that go. "You didn't say anything about paying a her whatever was required. And if Venus is a sex trick, I'm going to be pissed."
She trailed after him, aware of Pappy moving in closer, brushing against her legs as they moved into the office. She never even knew that dog was around until he slid past her.
"Venus is not a sex trick," Mac snapped as they moved through the back hall to his office. "It's a figure of speech. Stop worrying. The most she'll ask for is a case of Scotch for her booze-licking husband."
"Oh. Well. That's not so bad then. Right?" She stared up at him as he pushed her onto the couch and knelt before her on the floor.
"It's not bad at all," he sighed, reaching out to touch her cheek, then her lips. "I want you to sleep. Okay?"
"I'd sleep better in our bed," she mourned. "The couch isn't nearly as warm."
"But the couch is in the room with me. I'll know you're safe."
Her lips quirked. "I meant the bed is warmer with you in it. I don't want to sleep without you, Mac."
'Just this once," he whispered, pressing her shoulders down as he positioned the small arm cushion into place beneath her head and pulled the quilted throw from the back.
He tucked the blanket around her, then kissed her lips. Gently. A melding of flesh as they stared into each other's eyes. And like always, for Keiley, it was like coming home.
Like being in the midst of warmth and security.
"I'm not ashamed," she assured him again. "The picture doesn't matter."
"It does matter, Kei." His hand tightened on her arm. "I can see it in your face."
"Not enough to let it hurt me." She smiled back at him. "I won't let them hurt us. Don't you do that either, Mac."
Mac brushed his fingers on her eyelids, watching as they closed.
"Go to sleep, little fairy," he whispered, watching the smile that flitted at her lips before she burrowed against the pillow and sighed deeply.
She needed to sleep and he needed to work. Rising to his feet, he moved to his desk and pulled up the program still working on the laptop. The sheer amoun
t of information being uploaded was almost enough to boggle his mind. Thankfully, the second phase of the program would categorize the entries.
Pulling up the entry cell he began typing in the names of his employees, past and present. Something he had only thought of earlier. It would take a lot of work to figure out the perfect position to lay in wait with a gun from the base of the hill across from the house. It would take someone familiar with him and his home though to get a picture like that. Perfect positioning, perhaps a hidden camera.
Just because he had left the Bureau didn't mean he wasn't still a paranoid son of a bitch.
Because he was. He had laid out the stables, barns, and landscaping around the house in a very precise manner. It would take someone who knew every angle, and had worked it.
That meant someone he knew, because he didn't allow strangers on his land and he didn't have a schedule that would allow for an easy invasion into his property. Not to mention the alarms on the house and the animals around it.
The position of the pastures and buildings around the house ensured that the animals would be disturbed by anyone moving onto the property. Someone could do it without being detected, but it wouldn't be easy.
The shooting he could explain away. Cameras in the house were another thing.
Finishing, he then turned to his stationary computer, powered it up, and pulled up Google. Half an hour later he sat, his cheek cradled in his hand, staring at several pictures that had been taken years before.
He was bare-assed naked and having a hell of time. Drunk as a loon and grinning for the camera. The other window held a variety of pictures of Jethro in a similar state.
Damn, they had been wild then. Fifteen years had aged them, given them a measure of maturity. Maybe. At least enough to know better than to get into antics as they had then.
A third window was still working, looking for information on Keiley that didn't involve the pictures splashed in newspaper articles regarding her father's embezzlement and her parents' deaths. Her father's death, her mother's suicide.
At eighteen, Keiley had been alone, faced with a mountain of debts she had no hope of paying, and the condemnation of a town that had no one left to punish.
Shutting the computer down, he turned as Jethro stepped quietly into the office, his gaze going immediately to where Keiley lay sleeping on the couch.
"We need to get her to bed," Jethro told him softly.
Mac nodded slowly. "Did you talk to Gladsteen?"
"She's working on it. Said she would let you know the charge later."
Mac winced. He was going to end up paying out the ass for this one and he knew it.
The case of Scotch might be a small, very small, portion of it, but there wasn't a chance it would be the entire thing.
He wiped his hand over his face, glanced at the clock, and winced.
"Let's head to bed, then. Keiley doesn't sleep well on the couch."
He caught the slight stiffening of Jethro's expression and stared back at him questioningly. He hadn't expected this to be easy, not for any of them, but he admitted that for the most part, the relationship was working out well considering the circumstances.
Did he feel guilty that he had maneuvered his wife and his best friend in such a way?
Sometimes. Enough to draw back? Not in a million years. Keiley was his soul and his life, and her pleasure, her protection were worth everything. The fact that he enjoyed the hell out of watching her pleasure was secondary. Besides, he missed Jethro. They worked well together, understood each other. And they both loved Keiley.
Chapter 25
"Everything in moderation," Keiley murmured as she smoothed her hand over the sleeveless vest top she wore and checked the fit of her snug blue jeans and stylish boots.
The jeans were a little tight, hugging her butt and legs perfectly. They weren't as low at the hips as those that she wore around the house, but she was going out. That required a whole different perspective.
"Less is better," she reminded herself as she attached small hoops to her ears. "Don't go overboard. They belong to you. Just remember, you don't have to stake a claim, just show ownership. Simple. Easy. Very aboveboard."
Mac tilted his head as he stood in the doorway, shot Jethro a confused look, then stared back at his wife as she turned, ran her hand over her curvy little ass, and checked the fit of her jeans.
"It's not like you have to get dirty," she murmured.
Mac looked around the room. There was no one else there, and he knew damned good and well she hadn't seen them yet.
"All you have to do is hold your head up. And remember, a ménage is not the same as embezzlement. Ménages are fun. Embezzling is illegal. They can't stone you."
Pep talk. Damn. He had never heard his wife give herself a pep talk before.
"You will be the envy of the county." A smug little smile curved her lips as she faced the mirror again and brushed back her bangs. "Both those hard cocks are all yours. You can show your pride without being wicked."
He bit his lip as Jethro's shoulders shook soundlessly.
Damn, he had lived with her for six months and been married to her for over three years and he had never heard her give herself a pep talk. And he sure as hell hadn't seen the blatant smug smile such as the one she had on her face when she declared herself the proud owner of his and Jethro's cocks.
"When you've finished cheering yourself on, we're ready to go," Mac announced, holding back his laughter as she swung around, a delicate pink blush working from her throat to her hairline.
"Eavesdroppers," she snapped.
"Eavesdroppers hear nothing good of themselves," he pointed out with a grin. "What we heard was infinitely satisfying."
Keiley felt her own laughter bubbling in her throat. Okay, so it had sounded bad of her, but she was determined to do this right. Sometimes that took a few reminders.
Besides, it was hard to get mad at either of them when they looked so damned good.
Well-worn jeans hugged powerful legs. Their feet were encased in boots. Mac wore a white short-sleeved shirt and Jethro wore a black t-shirt. Both men had tucked their shirts into their jeans and wide belts cinched their hips. And those pants bulged perfectly. She must have a naughty streak she hadn't recognized until now, because the proof of their very virile bodies sent a surge of pride racing through her.
"Okay. I'm ready." She spritzed a quick spray of Poison over her shoulders and chest before smoothing her hands over her jean-clad hips and watching as Mac's gaze was drawn to her tanned legs and low-heeled Western boots.
His and Jethro's gazes both sparkled with heat and approval. Confidence filled her.
She could do this. She had been preparing all day. While Mac and Jethro had removed the other cameras from her bedroom curtains and worked to trace the remote link they had found, she had prepared herself for tonight.
Dinner and dancing at Casey's, the old Western saloon—style club outside of town.
She had taken a long, soaking bath filled with bath salts, waxed her brows, spent hours selecting her clothes, and called Maxine for moral support. Maxine, her husband, several of her sisters and their husbands, and half a dozen of the women from the charity committee were all going to be at Casey's as well. Moral support, Maxine had raged. The picture Delia had shown Keiley had arrived in their in-boxes late last night from Delia's e-mail address. It had arrived several more times from friends of Delia's.
Maxine was outraged. Joseph was coldly furious with the Statens and had demanded to speak to Mac and Jethro. What had happened during that conversation she had no idea, but she knew Mac and Jethro had seemed particularly smug after he handed the phone back to Keiley.
She had friends. Keiley had been terrified that the few friends she had made would turn their backs on her. She would have hated that. Would have mourned it. But her friends were jumping in with both feet, giggling on several conference calls and demanding details until Keiley
laughingly refused.
Not that it wasn't tinged with a bit of embarrassment. Well, a lot of embarrassment.
Maxine, the wretch, had noticed Keiley's birthmark right off, the little strawberry on her hip, and teased her mercilessly. Her sister Fayrene had insisted her husband invite his Army buddy for the summer, which resulted in Fayrene hastily hanging up the phone amid giggles and half-hysterical reminders to her husband that she was on the phone.
Her friends were gathering around her, though. The phone had rang unceasingly throughout the day. Many of the men who had received the picture were calling Mac.
They were smart enough to throw their support behind the men with the FBI rather than the witch with the pictures.
Smart of them, Keiley thought.
"Heinagen and Sheffield are watching the house tonight," Mac told her as the truck doors closed behind them and he put the truck in gear. "We caught a transmission from inside the house. We think he's using a remote-activated electronic bug. Those are harder to pick up. It has to actually be activated to be detected. They're working on it while we're out. If they don't find it before we return home, remember, anything you say could be heard."
"What about the truck?" Keiley asked nervously.
"You can hide them in the house because the wires are easier to conceal. I pulled the truck into the garage earlier and went over it top to bottom. There's nothing on it or in it.
It's safe. Going through the house would be a hell of a lot harder and damned near impossible to find without the right equipment. Director Williams is having that equipment flown in tomorrow afternoon. It's the quickest we could get it."
Keiley inhaled roughly.
"It will be over soon, Kei," Jethro assured her as he leaned back against the door and watched her with narrowed eyes.
He was doing that a lot, just watching her, as though he were drawing her into himself somehow. It was disconcerting to be probed in such a way. He was quieter than Mac in a lot of ways, still the bad boy, but the wildness she had glimpsed in his gaze when he first came to the farm wasn't there any longer.