Chapter Seventeen #2
needs something outside the home. Even if it’s volunteer work. I’ve heard the
Farley brothers are thinking about offering nanny services. I don’t think Fuber is bringing in the cash they hoped for. Now tell me
about the woman. I was in Elisa’s office when you went over everything. What
did Nate find out?”
It had been simple in the end, though it required a couple
of police departments to handle the whole thing. Once the Wyoming police found
out Kingman was dead, they talked to his wife who gave the bastard up
wholeheartedly because she thought she would get to keep everything.
She was about to learn.
“Her name was Meli Smith when Shane and I knew her, but her
real name was Meli Greybird. She ran away from her
parents at seventeen after a fight.” It hadn’t taken Nate long to put
everything together. “She was a hand when we met her.”
“Real nice,” Shane chimed in. “She was sweet and caring. She
was barely nineteen when he hired her and started sleeping with her. Apparently
he always keeps a young mistress around.”
“Why did he kill her?” Brooke asked.
“She was pregnant, and she didn’t want to terminate it,”
Shane said flatly. “She told him she wanted to go home. Apparently the wife is
saying she was there, and all her husband said was he would take her back to
her parents’ place after they saw a lawyer about taking care of her.”
“And he killed her with a hammer?” Brooke asked.
“From what they’ve put together, he brought the hammer along
and killed her when they got to the ravine. They already found her body and her
folks have been informed,” Bay said. “And I’m getting calls from some dude who
says he’s directing a documentary and that this is the wildest turn he’s ever
seen, and will I sit for an interview. I can say no, right?”
Brooke put a hand on his. “Of course, but let’s see if Cleo
knows him. The indie film world is small. If she says he’s legit, you might
think about it. This might be the first time art solved a murder. It’s a crazy
thing to happen.”
“Bay, it’s not like you caused the murder,” Shane said. “You
literally solved it.”
Bay’s head shook. “No, Kingman’s paranoia caused it. I
wouldn’t have done anything with it. I didn’t know what it meant. If he’d left
us alone, no one would know.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Brooke mused, sinking down beside
him. “You’re about to have a big showing that will likely lead to an even
bigger showing. Stef said he thinks one of the gallery owners he’s invited is
going to want to do a showing in New York. At some point that drawing would
have been seen. Her parents cared about her way more than Kingman knew. They’d
been looking for her since she left, and they contacted someone who produces
true crime documentaries. That picture, whenever it came out, would have caused
the police to look more closely at Kingman, and once they did, it would all
have fallen apart.”
“I won’t let it get out,” Bay vowed. “I told Nate I’ll show
her parents if they want it, but then I would like to keep it out of the
public. I’m not going to make money off Meli’s death.”
Brooke nodded. “That’s a good thing for you to do.” She
turned his way. “Maybe we should talk. I know we all said some things in the
heat of the moment, and I need you to understand that I won’t hold you to it.”
Shane sat up. “Really?”
Bay saw her tense, like she hadn’t expected that. “Of
course. It was a lot. We should talk when we’re less emotional.”
Oh, she misunderstood that “really.” Shane hadn’t said it in
an “I’m getting out of something I don’t want” way. That “really” was asking
how deep a hole she was going to dig for herself.
Because while she might not hold them to it, they were damn
straight holding on to her words for the rest of their lives.
“I think we shouldn’t talk at all.” Bay stood up. It was
time. She’d had dinner with her brothers and they’d all taken showers and
gotten ready for rest. Except he wasn’t feeling like sleeping. She’d been
wearing a plug for over a week. It was time to put that training to use.
He understood her. She was worried she was putting them in a
corner. She needed to understand that they were hers. Forever. There were no
corners. Only the home they shared, and it was wherever the hell that girl
wanted the home to be. Here in Bliss. In California. If she wanted to try the
city again, he would find a way to deal with it since she was the most
important part of their lives.
“Bay,” Brooke began. “We need to talk about what I said.
What you said.”
“Why?” Shane stood, too. He was wearing pajama bottoms and
had conveniently left off his shirt when he’d come downstairs from his shower.
“We said everything we needed to say in the barn. It’s done. It’s settled,
Brooke.”
He watched the moment it registered Shane wasn’t trying to
wriggle out of it. Her shoulders relaxed and her expression was suddenly saucy.
“Oh, is it? It’s all settled now?
“No.” Bay stepped up and had her in a fireman’s hold in
seconds. “It’s not settled at all, and we do have something to talk about.
We’re going to discuss what happens the next time I attempt to save you from
being assaulted and you yell at me.”
He wasn’t mad. He should have been calmer, but he would use
any excuse to get her into that playroom.
“What are you doing?” Brooke asked, her torso coming up.
He slapped her ass. Hard. “Teaching you to give me the
slightest bit of respect when I’m in jail for you.”
“I did not ask you to…” she began.
He smacked those cheeks again. “To what? To stop that man
from putting his hands on you?”
“Bay, he could have hurt you,” she argued.
Bay snorted and so did Shane.
“Somehow I don’t think that one was going to put up much of
a defense when it came to another man.” Shane moved ahead and opened the door
that led down to the basement and the playroom Trev, Beth, and Bo were so
generous with.
He walked into the space. They hadn’t had a lot of time to
play while they’d been here. Oh, they’d had a shit ton of sex. At least twice a
day, and sometimes more since Brooke seemed happy to spend her nights with one
of their mouths on her pussy. He knew the taste of that woman like nothing
before. He would die thinking about it, with the taste of her on his mouth.
The dungeon Trev and Bo had built was small but stunning.
He’d spared no expense. The floors were a dark wood with rolled-up soft rugs so
their sweet sub wouldn’t knock her knees on the hardwood.
There was a big bed to one side, with under-the-mattress
restraints to hold a sub in place, a St. Andrew’s Cross, a swing and a rigging
setup, and the place he made a beeline for. The spanking bench. It was the
Cadillac of spanking benches, with padded arms and legs and a soft place to
rest her body. Shane had adjusted it to the perfect height, and Bay noted there
was a tray prepared with lube and a plug and condoms.
There were plenty of paddles and whips and floggers, but he
wanted to use his hands on that gorgeous ass.
He set her on her feet, and her hands immediately went to
her hips, chin tilting up stubbornly. “What are you doing, Bailey Kent?”
He stared into those kick-him-in-the-gut eyes. There was so
much about this woman that called to him. He could explain how he adored her
intelligence and kindness. How her sassiness got his motor running. But there
was some indefinable magnet that pulled him to her. It was a mystery, and he
wouldn’t ever question it. He would honor their connection and always be
grateful for it.
She was theirs.
“I’m going to spank you for yelling at me at the jail,” he
announced.
Her lips kicked up. It was likely a combination of her
amusement at his statement and the fact that she quite liked a spanking. And
everything that came with it. “Well, it’s a family tradition. I assure you my
sister-in-law has yelled at my brothers in that jail often. I’m following in
her footsteps. Though it’s usually Max and not Rye.”
He knew things she didn’t. No one wanted to talk to her
about her brother’s sexual proclivities. “Max does it because he and Rachel
have a bargain.”
Shane stepped beside him, a knowing smirk on his face.
“Everyone in town knows that.”
Brooke’s lips turned down. “I don’t know that. Do I want to
know?”
Probably not, but he had a point to make. He moved closer,
crowding her. “When Max gets thrown in jail, he owes Rachel a certain amount of
sexual servitude. It appears your sister sometimes likes to take the top spot,
if you know what I mean.”
Her face crinkled up and she laughed. “I can see that now.
Yep, I did not want to know that.” She sobered, and a calculating gleam came
into her eyes. “But the sexual servitude is for Max. He’s the sex slave. Ewww. I wish I hadn’t said that out loud.”
“Do you know what your sister-in-law does not do?” Bay
wanted to make himself plain.
“If you are about to say not yell at Max, you’re wrong,
babe.”
Such a brat. And probably right. “Well, that’s not how we’re
going to do it. I’m going to negotiate with you. I promise to get hauled in on
a regular basis, and if, perchance, something does happen, you’re going to be
respectful until such moment that we are in private and then I owe you.”
“We both do,” Shane added. “I think it’s bullshit that Max
gets sex because he acts out and Rye gets what? To watch the kids? We all know
I’m going to be the good one, so I’m putting my foot down. If Bay gets tossed
into jail, I get to serve you sexually, too.”
A brilliant smile crossed her face. “You don’t think we’re
moving too fast.”
Bay groaned. “I will marry you tomorrow.”
She softened and went on her toes to press a kiss to his
lips and then to Shane’s. “How about next year? I’m saying yes, but I would
like a nice wedding. I only intend to do this once.”
“But we’re for real engaged now.” Bay wanted to be sure.
“Yes, and I expect a pretty ring. I don’t care about
diamonds or how much it costs. I want you and Shane to design it and make it