“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 na**d 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.”