the need to worry you. I thought it was a mistake. Meant for someone else.”
“And now? You still think it’s a mistake?”
Michael purses his lips, contemplating the question.
“Now I don’t know. We need to figure out who sent those pics.”
“You should have told me about the message, Michael.”
“Okay, Kennedy.”
“Where are our photos?” Her arms are folded tightly across her chest.
“Where they’ve always been,” he replies.
“Show me.”
Michael points to the external drive sitting alongside the monitor. “They’re all on this drive here. Buried underneath a bunch of subdirectories.”
“And the external drive is connected to the computer all the time?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think there was a problem with keeping it connected all the time.”
“Can someone access the drive from outside our home?” she asks.
He turns to look at her.
“I don’t see how. We’ve got a firewall, and the machine is password protected. And our wireless is protected by password as well.”
“Yet someone got those photos. And sent them to my job.”
“Yes.”
Kennedy reaches over and yanks out the USB cable from the external drive. Then she pulls the power cord from the back. The drive goes silent.
“You think that’s really necessary?” Michael asks.
Kennedy’s eyes narrow.
“Damn straight.”
She rubs at her temples as she leaves the room.
Chapter 17
The rest of the day is trying for both of them.
Michael finishes out the day attempting to work from home but gets very little done.
Kennedy can do nothing but worry. She sees her entire career imploding before her face. She has no one to call—Kennedy has plenty of friends, coworkers whom she confides in and, of course, family members, but none of them can know what has happened. How do you tell your best friend or your mother that nude photos of you and another woman are making the rounds?
Michael suggests she lie down for a few hours. But Kennedy, being the motivated, high-metabolism woman she is, can’t stomach taking a nap in the middle of the day. She tries to work, but her mind won’t concentrate on anything.
Why on earth would someone do what they had done to her, humiliate her, practically ruin what was, up until today, a stellar career?
She can’t fathom it.
As she sits on the couch in the family room, the stereo set on low to a smooth-jazz station, she reflects on the woman in the photo.
What transpired between them occurred almost four years ago. She and Michael had gone down to Belize for a winter vacation. Zack had stayed with Kennedy’s parents in Atlanta. They had hooked up with this woman—whose name escapes her now. They had met at the resort, shared lunch and a good number of drinks, then frolicked in the pool together before retiring to their hotel room later on that evening. The encounter had been a wonderful one. Unrushed, plenty of foreplay, and enough interaction and attention to satisfy both Michael and Kennedy. The next day they had gone back for seconds and thirds, as Kennedy recalls without the usual grin. What had happened to the woman? They had exchanged contact info, as they sometimes do with partners, but had never heard from the woman again. Not too surprising given their circumstances.
What happens in Belize stays in Belize....
Could these photos have been sent from the woman?
Not likely.
They never shared the pics with her or anyone else, for that matter. As far as Kennedy knows, the photos have been on their external drive all this time.... Only Michael would know for sure, but he doesn’t share the intimate details of their sex life with anyone without her permission. Those are the rules, and up to this point, she’s never had any reason to think Michael could be up to something behind her back.
More likely, someone had gotten into the computer. But how? And more importantly, why?
Those questions would keep her up tonight, sleepless and frenetic, craving answers....
Michael offers to
“And now? You still think it’s a mistake?”
Michael purses his lips, contemplating the question.
“Now I don’t know. We need to figure out who sent those pics.”
“You should have told me about the message, Michael.”
“Okay, Kennedy.”
“Where are our photos?” Her arms are folded tightly across her chest.
“Where they’ve always been,” he replies.
“Show me.”
Michael points to the external drive sitting alongside the monitor. “They’re all on this drive here. Buried underneath a bunch of subdirectories.”
“And the external drive is connected to the computer all the time?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think there was a problem with keeping it connected all the time.”
“Can someone access the drive from outside our home?” she asks.
He turns to look at her.
“I don’t see how. We’ve got a firewall, and the machine is password protected. And our wireless is protected by password as well.”
“Yet someone got those photos. And sent them to my job.”
“Yes.”
Kennedy reaches over and yanks out the USB cable from the external drive. Then she pulls the power cord from the back. The drive goes silent.
“You think that’s really necessary?” Michael asks.
Kennedy’s eyes narrow.
“Damn straight.”
She rubs at her temples as she leaves the room.
Chapter 17
The rest of the day is trying for both of them.
Michael finishes out the day attempting to work from home but gets very little done.
Kennedy can do nothing but worry. She sees her entire career imploding before her face. She has no one to call—Kennedy has plenty of friends, coworkers whom she confides in and, of course, family members, but none of them can know what has happened. How do you tell your best friend or your mother that nude photos of you and another woman are making the rounds?
Michael suggests she lie down for a few hours. But Kennedy, being the motivated, high-metabolism woman she is, can’t stomach taking a nap in the middle of the day. She tries to work, but her mind won’t concentrate on anything.
Why on earth would someone do what they had done to her, humiliate her, practically ruin what was, up until today, a stellar career?
She can’t fathom it.
As she sits on the couch in the family room, the stereo set on low to a smooth-jazz station, she reflects on the woman in the photo.
What transpired between them occurred almost four years ago. She and Michael had gone down to Belize for a winter vacation. Zack had stayed with Kennedy’s parents in Atlanta. They had hooked up with this woman—whose name escapes her now. They had met at the resort, shared lunch and a good number of drinks, then frolicked in the pool together before retiring to their hotel room later on that evening. The encounter had been a wonderful one. Unrushed, plenty of foreplay, and enough interaction and attention to satisfy both Michael and Kennedy. The next day they had gone back for seconds and thirds, as Kennedy recalls without the usual grin. What had happened to the woman? They had exchanged contact info, as they sometimes do with partners, but had never heard from the woman again. Not too surprising given their circumstances.
What happens in Belize stays in Belize....
Could these photos have been sent from the woman?
Not likely.
They never shared the pics with her or anyone else, for that matter. As far as Kennedy knows, the photos have been on their external drive all this time.... Only Michael would know for sure, but he doesn’t share the intimate details of their sex life with anyone without her permission. Those are the rules, and up to this point, she’s never had any reason to think Michael could be up to something behind her back.
More likely, someone had gotten into the computer. But how? And more importantly, why?
Those questions would keep her up tonight, sleepless and frenetic, craving answers....
Michael offers to
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