The Keeper (Redemption Ridge Book Five), page 1
The Keeper (Redemption Ridge Book Five)
Copyright © 2024 Aimee Nicole Walker
aimeenicolewalker@blogspot.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to the actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover photo © Wander Aguiar—www.wanderaguiar.com
Cover design © Jay Aheer—www.simplydefinedart.com
Interior design and formatting provided by Stacey Ryan Blake of Champagne Book Design—www.champagnebookdesign.com
Developmental edits provided by Charity VanHuss
Copy edits provided by Sandra Dee of One Love Editing: www.oneloveediting.com
Proofreading provided by Lori Parks—lp.nerdproblems@gmail.com
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original publisher only.
This book is intended for adult readers only.
Copyright and Trademark Acknowledgments:
The author acknowledges the copyrights and trademarked status and trademark owners of the trademarks and copyrights mentioned in this work of fiction.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Other Books
Acknowledgments
About Aimee Nicole Walker
“You’re doing it again,” Rueben admonished softly.
“Sorry.” Keegan stilled and exhaled a heavy sigh. “I’m just so nervous.”
Rueben kept his gaze on the magazine. He’d been staring at the same page for the past fifteen minutes but hadn’t read a single word. Keegan wasn’t the only Nervous Nelly in the waiting room at the prosecutor’s office. Rueben just didn’t want to untangle his emotions until he was alone in his cabin. “I’ve never seen anyone’s legs bounce like that.”
“It’s been nine months since the arrests,” Keegan said. “Why call us in for a meeting now?”
“Your knees started out like twin kangaroos hopping in tandem but somehow got out of rhythm. Your right leg bounced higher and faster than the left. How’s that even possible?”
Keegan released a cute little growl of frustration. “Are you listening to a single word I’ve said?”
Rueben lowered the magazine and turned to face his friend. The hazel eyes snapping with irritation were much preferred to the lifeless gaze Keegan wore nine months ago. Full, rosy cheeks filled out his previously gaunt face, and cinnamon freckles dusted sun-kissed skin that had once been sickly pale. The walking dead looked more alive than Keegan had when he first stepped onto the ranch. But Keegan’s biggest transformations occurred under the skin and weren’t visible to the naked eye. He’d dedicated himself to his recovery from the nightmares he’d endured during conversion therapy on the Salvation Anew compound, and Rueben didn’t want Keegan to wade back into unnecessary weeds by obsessing over things he couldn’t control, such as prosecuting the people who’d committed the crimes against him. “Seriously, man. Were your knees racing or something?”
Keegan’s mouth parted on a gasp. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Well, no,” Rueben said. “I have bigger things on my mind.” Keegan wasn’t the only one who wanted Mick and Quinton Carson to stand trial sooner rather than later. Rueben had serious skin in the game too. He quickly diverted his thoughts away from who he wanted to rub said flesh against because the typical reaction wouldn’t be welcome in public. He turned his magazine to face Keegan and pointed to a handsome guy with similar color hair and fade style. “Do you think I’d look good with those highlights? I’m kind of in a rut and could use a refresh.”
Keegan stared at him for several moments, his lips parted in disbelief, before he snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “I know what you’re doing.”
Rueben smiled and waggled his brows. “And is it working?”
Keegan heaved an exasperated sigh. “Yes. I’ll direct my questions to Prosecutor Lyndhurst instead of internalizing my worries and feeding my anxiety monster.”
Rueben’s heart swelled with pride. “On a scale of terror, are we talking about a gremlin or Godzilla here?”
The exterior door opened before he could answer, and Keegan’s eyes widened briefly. A frisson of awareness licked a path up Rueben’s spine like a lover’s tongue, and his nerve endings sizzled like bacon in a hot skillet. He knew who entered the waiting room before the faint hints of lime and mint tickled his senses. Seth Burke’s bodywash reminded Rueben of a mojito, and the man himself was much more intoxicating than white rum, and he should know since he was still hungover nine months later after their wild and reckless weekend together.
“Good morning, Phaedra. I’m here to see Prosecutor Lyndhurst.”
The sheriff’s rich voice triggered memories of Seth’s weight pressing him into the mattress and whispering dirty talk in his ear to spur him to climax when Rueben had wanted to delay the tide of pleasure. The sensory overload punted him back nine months to the rustic cabin they’d hidden away in after Rueben survived a near-death experience and Seth thwarted a homegrown terrorist plot. A relationship between a sheriff and a victim or potential trial witness was off-limits. Seth had made that clear when they’d parted ways early on the Monday after, but the longing in his gray eyes after their last shared kiss spoke louder than words ever could. Rueben had understood the stakes and didn’t want to see Mick and Quinton Carson walk free on a technicality or have a jury reach a not-guilty verdict because they couldn’t trust the investigators. So Rueben planted his desires deep into a fertile garden of hope and tended to it with memories from that one perfect weekend whenever his soul needed TLC.
Phaedra was in her early thirties and peered at Seth with cartoon character heart eyes. Rueben couldn’t blame her, but he wanted to growl out a warning for the lady to back away from his man. “Mr. Lyndhurst is wrapping up a phone call and shouldn’t be much longer.”
That was the same thing she’d told them almost twenty minutes ago, but Rueben embraced his annoyance to avoid engaging other emotions. The prosecutor’s office was not an appropriate place to let his fantasies of Seth run rampant. He rattled his magazine to pull Keegan’s attention back to the photo of the cutie with the sun-kissed streaks in his hair.
“Highlights, yes or no?”
Keegan darted a glance in Burke’s direction before meeting Rueben’s gaze. “I think a change would do you good.”
All the guys on the ranch knew about his weekend with Seth, but Rueben only discussed the torturous war waging inside him with Keegan. To want someone so badly and connect with them on the deepest levels, only to have them ripped away, was a cruel punishment to pay for someone else’s crimes. Salvation Anew’s plans and attacks had affected everyone on the ranch, but Keegan and Rueben had taken the brunt of their rage. The two of them had bonded over their shared experiences and the fact that they were the only two unattached people living on Redemption Ridge. Keegan’s therapist didn’t want him dating until he’d worked deeper into his recovery process, and Rueben couldn’t have the only man he wanted.
Cocking his head to the side, Kee studied the magazine page for a second. “Maybe caramel highlights for a more natural look.” His lips quivered and curved into a wry smile. “Unless boy band member is the style you’re going for.”
Rueben reached over and ruffled Keegan’s hair. “Caramel highlights it is. Twenty-five is too old for a boy band, though I have the moves to pull it off.” His best friend snorted in disagreement, and Rueben lightly swatted Keegan with the magazine before putting it back on the table.
Seth’s allure called him like a siren’s song, but he avoided looking in his direction. But why? Running into one another in a small town was unavoidable. Rueben had always kept a tight leash on his emotions and offered Seth a cordial nod whenever their paths crossed. Seth would return the gesture with the slightest hint of a sly smile curving his lips. The sheriff’s mirrored glasses hid the intensity in his gaze, but Rueben felt it as strongly as a lover’s caress. He risked a glance in Seth’s direction and noticed he’d taken the farthest seat away from them and had busied himself with his phone. Nothing about Seth’s rigid posture resembled the affectionate man from his memories. For a moment, Rueben started to wonder if the echoes of shared laughter, kisses, and lovemaking were figments of his imagination instead of legitimate recollections.
Several more minutes ticked by with no relief from the rising tension in the room. Rueben’s gaze kept darting to the corner to clock Seth’s activity. Look up. Look at me. Just once.
When Keegan’s legs started to bounce again, Rueben yanked his head out of his ass and placed a hand on his friend’s knee. The shaking stopped immediately, and Keegan took a ragged breath.
“I’ll find out how much longer,” Rueben said.
But before he could stand up, the interior door next to the clerk’s window opened. A woman dressed in a smart navy suit and matching pumps smiled at Rueben and Keegan. She wore her black hair in a sleek bun that accentuated her amazing bone structure. Full lips curved into a professional smile. “Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Scott?”
They stood up and introduced themselves and shook her hand.
“I’m Cynthia Dailey, Mr. Lyndhurst’s assistant. I apologize for the delay, but he’s ready to see you now.” Rueben held out hope for a few seconds that Seth was having a separate meeting with the prosecutor, but that fizzled out when she looked to the corner of the room where he sat. “Join us, please, Sheriff Burke.”
Keegan darted a worried glance in Rueben’s direction, and he responded with a reassuring wink. Rueben imagined the meeting would take place in a large conference room where they could spread out and he wouldn’t have the walking mojito within licking distance. Rueben fell in behind Cynthia, and Keegan followed closely. Seth brought up the rear, a thought he didn’t allow himself to explore for fear of tripping over his feet.
“Normally, we’d use the conference room, but the clerks have turned it into a war room to prep for an upcoming trial,” Cynthia said. “I’ll bring in an extra chair for the sheriff.”
“I can come back and meet with Tony later,” Seth offered.
“He’s leaving after this meeting, I’m afraid.” Cynthia stopped next to an open door and gestured for Rueben to enter.
Tony Lyndhurst rose to his feet and greeted him with a pleasant smile. He extended his hand and formally introduced himself. He had medium-brown hair with a smattering of gray at the temples, hawklike blue eyes, and the complexion of someone who spent way too much time indoors.
“It’s good to meet you, sir. I’m Rueben Sanchez.” He dropped his hand and moved over so Keegan could meet the man. Rueben turned his head just enough to see Burke in his periphery. The object of his desire stood in the doorway, chatting to Cynthia in a low voice. Once Lyndhurst finished up his greeting to Keegan, Rueben could parse some of the conversation.
“What time tomorrow?” Cynthia asked.
“Six o’clock,” Seth replied.
“I’ll be there. You go on in, and I’ll grab the chair.”
Had he just overheard Seth and Cynthia making a date? Was Seth attracted to women too? They’d talked a lot between bouts of scorching passionate sex, but they kept their discussions light and their discoveries sensual. The meeting with the prosecutor took on a new sense of urgency, and Rueben fought the urge not to turn around and glare a warning in Cynthia’s direction.
Rueben tried not to stare when Seth entered the room and extended his hand to Lyndhurst. He stared at the lineup of personal photographs on the credenza behind the prosecutor’s desk. Each candid shot portrayed a life well loved and lived, so it was easy to ignore the men who greeted one another. Their amiable tones and usage of first names implied a casual relationship between the county’s top cop and chief prosecutor. Luckily, they didn’t break into small talk while waiting for the lovely Cynthia’s return. It already felt like someone was tap-dancing on his last nerve, so the last thing Rueben wanted to hear was their golf scores or fishing stories. Did Seth play golf or fish? There was still so much to discover about Seth, and he found the idea thrilling. Rueben wanted to know him better than anyone else. He longed for the day when Seth realized he was the keeper. Not just a keeper, because that implied Rueben would be one of many key people in Seth’s life when he wanted to be the one.
Rueben discreetly studied Seth from the corner of his eye and repressed the sappy, lovesick sigh building in his chest. He didn’t know what brand of jeans the man preferred, but the dark denim was made to hug that fine ass. The khaki shirt stretched across broad shoulders was crisp perfection, and Rueben knew from personal experience that the fabric was much softer than it looked. Hell, he’d even borrowed the shirt or one like it when he’d left the bed long enough to retrieve drinks from the refrigerator. Rueben had lifted the shirt collar to his face and inhaled the lime and mint imbedded into the fabric. It had made Rueben want to slurp a mojito from his belly button. Seth didn’t have any of those ingredients, but he’d encouraged Rueben to use his tongue wherever, whenever, and however he chose. Absence didn’t just make the heart grow fonder; it made the libido get hornier. A mournful sigh slipped past his defenses, but he disguised it with a light cough.
“Do you need something to drink, Mr. Sanchez?” Lyndhurst asked.
“No, but thank you.” Rueben thought the cough might’ve gotten Seth’s attention and dared to look in his direction, but Seth averted his gaze to the phone in his hand. The man could draw that bastard from his pocket quicker than a gunslinger at high noon. Rueben tamped down his disappointment and forced his attention back to the prosecutor.
“How about you, Mr. Scott?” Lyndhurst asked.
Keegan also declined the offer before turning a wry gaze Rueben’s way. The cough hadn’t fooled him one bit. “Nice rebound,” he whispered.
Rueben shot him a wink and then gazed around the room. Heavy wood furniture with a dark finish took up nearly the entire space. Someone had polished the surfaces to a shine, which probably accounted for the hints of lemon Rueben smelled in the air. The office was much smaller than he’d have guessed, but it was three times the size of the broom closet Rueben’s public defender had called an office. He’d known he was fucked the moment he saw the card table and folding chairs his attorney used. Cynthia still hadn’t returned by the time he finished his perusal. Just how far did she have to go to find an extra chair? Lyndhurst must’ve shared a similar wavelength because he walked to the door and peered into the hallway.
“Ah, here she comes,” he said.
“Sorry. I got stopped a few times before I could get back here.” Probably from war-waging clerks in the conference room. Cynthia wheeled the chair into the room and stepped back. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
The only spots big enough for Seth to sit were behind Lyndhurst’s desk with the prosecutor or in the corner diagonally from Rueben. Either spot would put him directly in Seth’s line of sight. It probably surprised no one when the sheriff parked his broad shoulders in the corner to give his brawny frame extra space. Rueben looked in his direction, but Seth stared down at the floor. Look at me. Please. When Seth didn’t yield to his silent pleas, Rueben forced his attention to Lyndhurst.
The older man leaned back in his chair and smiled in what Rueben assumed was supposed to be a fatherly manner to put them at ease. He couldn’t remember his father, so he wouldn’t know, and Lyndhurst’s expression only made him more anxious. Keegan’s legs started bouncing again, and Rueben placed his hand on the closest knee and left it there. It seemed Lyndhurst’s smile didn’t relax his friend either.
The prosecutor’s gaze dropped to Rueben’s hand on Keegan’s knee. A slight furrow formed on his brow, and the smile morphed from paternal to patronizing. “You two obviously know one another, and I assume you’ve both met Sheriff Burke.”
Keegan verbally confirmed their past introduction while Rueben nodded.
“I’ve interviewed Mr. Scott and Mr. Sanchez multiple times during my investigation.” Seth’s professional tone held none of the warmth Rueben remembered from their weekend together. He sounded cold and indifferent and continued to avoid Rueben’s gaze. If Seth wasn’t looking at the prosecutor, or at his feet, he stared at a spot on the wall between Keegan’s and Rueben’s heads. From Lyndhurst’s angle, it would appear Seth was making eye contact with the witnesses.
Look at me, damn it. Nothing. What the hell was going on? It was one thing to pretend they didn’t know each other intimately, but Seth seemed almost hostile toward him.
“I think the best thing to do is to get right to the point,” Lyndhurst said. “First, I want to apologize for my lack of communication over the past nine months. Based on the strength of our evidence, I expected the Carsons to accept plea bargains instead of going to trial. Their defense attorneys had seemed keen when I presented the offers, but they quickly came back with rejections after talking to their clients. That’s no excuse for my poor communication, but I want you to know your best interests have been at the forefront of my mind the entire time.”
“How so?” Keegan’s voice was clear and calm, showing no signs of the wounded man who’d arrived at the ranch not that long ago.
