Page 14 of The Keeper

Rueben collected the bags and receipts from the clerk, then spun around to leave the store. He made it two steps and froze because the ginger guy from the diner was leaning against a porch post and watching him through the open door. The man’s eyes were green, nearly as light as Finley’s. The expression in them was friendly and curious. Rueben couldn’t just stand there all day, and he didn’t want to anyway. He squared his shoulders and urged his feet to move. The stranger straightened to his full height as he drew near and smiled, but Rueben strode past him.

“Stalker much?”

“You don’t give a guy much of a choice, Mr. Sanchez.” His voice was smooth and dripped with charm.

Rueben stopped so suddenly that the guy nearly slammed into him. He whirled around and pinned a menacing scowl on his face. “Who the hell are you?”

The ginger man took two wise steps back. “I’m Oliver Hawkins.” He said his name like Rueben should know it.

Oliver Hawkins. Oliver Hawkins. It sounded a little familiar, but recognition eluded him, and he didn’t really care. “The name isn’t doing anything for me.”

“Yet,” Oliver replied. “Maybe we can grab a drink later and discuss why I drove from Denver to talk to you.”

Nothing in his expression or voice came across as suggestive, but it still made Rueben feel gross. He had to be one of the reporters who’d called him the previous month. “Hard pass, Mr. Hawkins. I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time.” Rueben turned and continued around the side of the store. Keegan and safety waited for him at the loading docks.

“This is your chance to tell your narrative with your own voice, Mr. Sanchez. I’m an investigative journalist with the Denver Post.”

Ahhh. He recognized the pitch. This was the guy whose newspaper wanted to do a podcast about Salvation Anew. Rueben walked even faster. “Hell no.” Rory was the only one he trusted to share his story with real integrity, but he’d avoided doing the deeper interviews that some of the crew had already filmed. He’d get there someday, but on his terms.

“The national media will swarm this small town when the trial starts. They will exploit your tragedies and turn your molehill-sized misdeeds into mountains for their own gains.”

Rueben stopped and whirled again. If he weren’t careful, he’d make himself dizzy or wrench something. “And you’re different how?” What did this guy know about his tragedies and misdeeds? Sure, he’d done research, but those articles would’ve barely scratched the surface of his history. They sure as hell wouldn’t have told the truth.

“You beat them at their own game and strike first,” Oliver said. “I don’t want to exploit you, and I don’t need to rely on sensationalism. I’ve got sixteen years of journalism experience and accreditations I could show you.”

Rueben exhaled long and slow. “You sound sincere.”

“Thank you. I am.”

“But I’m still not interested. Please respect my wishes and don’t contact me again.” Rueben turned and walked away, thankfully without a shadow. It made him curious why the journalist hadn’t mentioned Keegan’s name or recognized him at the diner. Kee didn’t take part in the ranch videos, and it was possible his picture never got published during the initial media frenzy. Then again, Keegan didn’t look or sound like the same person who’d risked his life to escape so he could report the Carsons for cutting the brake lines that failed on Rueben. Oliver was likely on the hunt for Keegan without knowing where to find him. The urge to protect his friend got Rueben’s feet moving faster. He glanced up the sidewalk as he rounded the rear corner of the building and breathed easier when he saw Oliver hadn’t followed.

Keegan leaned casually against the side of the truck while talking to the guy working the loading dock. He straightened when he caught sight of Rueben and ended his conversation to meet him halfway. “What’s wrong? You’ve been gone forever.”

“I’ll tell you in the truck. You drive.”

Keegan arched a brow but didn’t argue. They waved at the feed store employee and drove off. “Now tell me.”

Rueben filled him in, starting with the customer issues and ending with Oliver Hawkins approaching him about the podcast. He left out the bit about buying a burner phone, and he didn’t want to dwell on the reasons why.

“Wow. That guy sure is ballsy.” Keegan glanced over at him and smiled. “You’re not even a little interested in doing the podcast.”

“Nope.” Rueben looked over at him. “Are you?”

Keegan pursed his lips. “Not right now. Anything I say could be used as a weapon in court, and putting Mick and Quinton away is too important to me.”

Guilt pierced Rueben’s heart, and the bag on his lap suddenly weighed fifty pounds. Just because he purchased the phone didn’t mean he had to use it. He kept repeating that to himself as he plugged it in to charge and contemplated what he’d say to Seth throughout poker night on the ranch. He spoke the words out loud even as he dialed the number he’d memorized nine months ago before deleting it from his phone. Rueben convinced himself Seth wouldn’t answer. It was late. He’d had an emotional day that might not even be over yet, and Rueben called from a number Seth wouldn’t recognize.

He answered on the second ring. “Burke.”

There were so many things Rueben wanted to say, but all he could manage was a shaky inhale.

“Rueben.” His name rolled off Seth’s tongue like a whispered prayer.

“How’d you know?”

“You make that same shaky breath every time I’ve slid my dick inside you.”

Rueben bit his lips to hold back the answering whimper, but he was no match for it.

---