Page 36 of The Keeper

“No. Please stay.” Keegan’s expression morphed into sheer panic, but Rueben couldn’t stay back and assure him he’d be okay. If he did, he’d miss the opportunity to follow the guy at a discreet distance. Rueben could either confirm Keegan’s worst fears or put them to bed.

“What the hell’s going on?” Tyler asked.

“No time,” Rueben said. “I’ll be right back, Kee. I promise.”

Owen placed his arm around Keegan’s waist and pulled him close. “Go. We got him.”

Rueben took off in the direction he’d last seen the man and left the explanations to Keegan. The guy wore a plain white T-shirt, light denim jeans, and a Rockies hat pulled low on his forehead, which matched a good sixty percent of the local male population. What set the man apart was the glimpse of platinum hair peeking out from under the hat. When he crashed through the exit, he looked left and right but didn’t see the man. The dispersing crowd pretty much split in half, so one direction was just as populated as the other. The mystery guy was tall and broad-shouldered but not enough to stick out in the crowd. Damn it!

Rueben turned right and walked for half a block, dodging around slow-moving people and standing on his tiptoes to get a better look. When he didn’t spot the guy, he doubled back in the opposite direction and did the same thing. Fuck. Did every person in the county show up for the town hall meeting? Rueben scanned both sides of the street and let out a frustrated growl when he realized his efforts had been fruitless. He stopped, spun around, and slammed into a broad chest. He looked up until he met piercing green eyes. Fucking Oliver.

“Well, this is nice,” the reporter said in a falsely sweet voice. “Twice in one day.”

Rueben arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I passed you on Archer’s Road this afternoon. Apparently, you were too preoccupied to notice.”

Rueben had encountered a gray sedan after leaving the cabin but hadn’t bothered to see who was driving it. The reason for Seth’s call became crystal clear, and the worry Rueben felt earlier increased tenfold. Oliver had seen him buying the burner phone and had passed him on the access road back to the private lake. He’d either figured them out or expressed his suspicions to Seth. He wanted to ask why Oliver had gone to the cabin but kept his mouth shut. As far as he knew, Oliver only suspected he was seeing Seth. Passing him on a road wasn’t hard evidence, but Rueben had witnessed a bit of Oliver’s tenacity at the town hall meeting. The hard glint in those green eyes made Rueben think he was just getting started. Oliver gripped his biceps and pulled Rueben into the gap between two businesses. The space wasn’t quite an alleyway, but it was wide enough for them to square off against each other.

“Trust me when I say I understand your attraction to Seth,” Oliver said.

He’d gentled his tone and struck an affable, just-between-us expression that pissed Rueben off. Loving Seth wasn’t a war they would commiserate about over beers. And he had to be very careful about what he said and how he reacted because Seth’s career might depend on it. Yeah, his opponent’s chances of election were pretty slim if Oliver’s evidence against him was as damning as he’d claimed, but that didn’t mean they could get careless. Too much hinged on convicting the Carsons for their crimes.

“But Seth getting involved with you is career suicide, friend.”

“We’re not friends,” Rueben said flatly.

“Fair enough, but I’m not your enemy either. I’m certainly not Seth’s.”

Meaning what? He wanted Seth back? No fucking way. “I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Fine,” Oliver said. “But you better listen. Seth Burke has sacrificed everything to become sheriff. He could’ve gotten better-paying jobs and taken advantage of golden opportunities elsewhere, but he turned them down to serve his community. Dating you will destroy all of that. Right now, the sex is off the charts, so you’re not thinking long term. Let me do that for you. Even if you keep your relationship a secret until after the trial, and I highly doubt that after today’s fuckup, your criminal history will cause a lot of problems for Seth. Sure, he’ll beat the neo-Nazi this time, but then what? His next opponent will have a field day with you.”

Oliver tsked and shook his head. “You torched your rented house when the landlord decided not to renew your lease. Is that the kind of guy voters want to see their sheriff date?” Oliver grimaced and sucked air between his teeth. “I didn’t get a hold of your juvenile record because those files are sealed, and I obtain information legally and ethically. Seth’s next opponent might not be so honest.” Oliver moved closer, giving Rueben the choice of standing his ground or backing up. He was done getting bullied. Oliver arched a brow and stopped a few inches shy of Rueben. “What will they find? More malicious vandalism? Something darker? The ex-boyfriend who testified in your aggravated arson trial claimed you were possessive and unhinged.”

Rueben quelled the rising panic and fury because Seth knew everything about his past and still chose him anyway. The juvenile stuff had been a cry for help. Rueben had been filled with rage and hurt. He’d lost his mom and sister, then got uprooted to move in with other family members. He hadn’t known what to do with his emotions and acted out through stupid shit like shoplifting and tagging dumpsters with spray paint.

Rueben hadn’t burned his rental house down. Yeah, he’d had a boisterous argument with the landlord because the man had decided not to renew his lease with only two weeks’ notice. Rueben had told him that was illegal, and the owner challenged him to get a lawyer and sue, knowing he couldn’t afford it. He’d lost his temper, and the argument got loud enough for the neighbors to overhear them shouting. After his landlord left, Rueben had gone over to his boyfriend’s house to see if he could crash there for a bit until he found a new place. They weren’t ready for long-term cohabitation, but the relationship was going well. Or so Rueben had thought until he showed up unannounced at his apartment to find his man deep-throating one bouncer and getting railed by another. So much for the no-fraternization policy at the club he managed.

Hurt and angry, Rueben had gone back to his house and burned the few things his boyfriend had left at his place. He’d never used the fireplace before and shouldn’t have then either. The combination of abandoned bird’s nest and creosote buildup in the chimney turned the small ritual into a total-loss fire. Rueben’s landlord had claimed it was deliberate and insisted the cops arrest him. The neighbors reported the heated argument, which lent credence to the allegations. His loser ex-boyfriend took the stand and lied about his so-called anger issues to get even for the two-hundred-dollar sneakers Rueben roasted. The jury bought it hook, line, and sinker, and Rueben had gone to lockup for thirteen months.

As much as Rueben hated to admit it, Oliver was right. Many people would have a big problem with their sheriff dating an ex-con, and they held Seth’s future in their hands.

Oliver sighed. “Look, you seem like a nice guy.”

Rueben turned and walked away. He wasn’t interested in hearing platitudes after Oliver lobbed a verbal grenade at him. It was like someone trying to put a Band-Aid on the bloody stump they’d just blown off. Too little, too late. The damage was already done.

Seth checked his watch for the time again and swallowed his frustrated sigh. He had no one else to blame for his irritation since he was the one who’d volunteered to help and recruited Kerry and Shawna. Where the hell is Cynthia? Seth pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped on the phone icon to check the voicemail message she’d left for him the previous evening. Had he gotten the time wrong?

“He acts like he has somewhere else to be,” Shawna said.

Kerry snorted. “Community theater rehearsal, where he’ll reprise his role as Eeyore.”

Shawna laughed and placed her hand on Seth’s shoulder. “I always said he was a grade A jackass.”

Seth took their ribbing on the chin because he deserved it and because he didn’t want to draw their attention to the real reason for his melancholy mood, which stared back at him from his call log. Rueben’s number still showed up under his incoming calls, but the length of their conversations had gotten shorter each day since the town hall meeting. The repressed sigh escaped Seth then because he didn’t know how to bridge the yawning chasm between them. He forced his attention to the voicemail box and replayed the message Cynthia had left him.

“She definitely said ten o’clock on Saturday,” Seth said when the message ended. He stood back and checked the number over the unit’s rolling garage door. “And this is the right spot.”

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