Page 113 of Keller

The evening air hangs more still than normal. Storm clouds gather at the edges of the sky, turning the light hazy and golden.

Keller stands at the deck railing, staring out at the darkening neighborhood. I hand him the wine. He takes it without looking at me.

"I missed you last night," he says, turning to look at me. He leans against the railing, his fitted button-down looking way too sexy for work attire. I can make out the ridges of his washboard abs.

"I missed you, too. I prefer falling asleep with you."

"Same."

"You look tired. Was it a long day? I know you had a late night."

"Yeah, late night, early morning, lots of kissing ass and shaking hands. And then we left early on a fire drill. Everything's blowing up."

I lean against the railing beside him, leaving a few inches of space between us. "Everything okay?"

He takes a long sip of wine before answering.

"Just dealing with some stuff regarding my father. It puts everyone on edge. Ridge is wound tight. I've got to go in first thing in the morning for a meeting. You know, same shit, different day."

My pulse spikes. I feel it in my throat, in the sudden tightness across my ribs. Maybe it's something else entirely, not the investigation I put in motion. Please, God, let it be anything but that.

My face stays neutral. Years of training keep my expression soft and concerned rather than calculating.

"That sounds stressful. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Keller exhales slowly. His thumb traces the stem of his wine glass.

"Ridge is handling it, working with lawyers. This isn't really my wheelhouse, so when things come up, I show up and do whatever they need from me."

I file that away. Ridge is leading the response, and counsel is engaged. Standard containment protocol for preliminary exposure.

No full investigative team would be assembled this quickly. This is still contained, still preliminary. It's got to be something else.

"Do they know what they're looking for?"

The question comes out casually. Girlfriend curious, not a federal agent probing.

Keller shakes his head.

He finally looks at me. "Bureaucratic bullshit, probably. But the timing is awful."

"I'm sorry. That's a lot to deal with."

Keller's jaw works for a moment before he speaks again.

"It might be nothing. Ridge thinks it's probably nothing. But he's already in crisis mode, so." He shrugs, a gesture that doesn't match the tension in his frame. "October keeps coming back around. It's like we're all stuck in this Groundhog Day loop of dealing with the fallout. We can't just grieve our father and move on."

There it is. It's definitely tied to something with Robert. I still can't imagine it's stemming from the report I sent in.

"You said Houston was for Argentum stuff, right?"

He turns his wine glass in his hands, watching the liquid catch the fading light.

"Yeah."

I turn toward him, studying his profile. The tight line of his mouth. The way his eyes stay fixed on something past the tree line.

"Savannah, too? I hope you're on the payroll for Argentum as much as you're traveling."