“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 amount 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.

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.