Chapter Seven

"W hy are you back from break so soon?" Emmett asked when Kendall stopped by the bar to place another order.

I was coerced into the back of an SUV where I reunited with the sexiest man on earth , and I'm now assisting SPD and the US Marshals with a fugitive takedown .

Except Kendall wasn't sure he could trust Emmett with the truth. Hell, Kendall wasn't sure he trusted himself with it either. So he shrugged his shoulders and said the next best thing—a half-truth. "I felt guilty for leaving the dining room short-staffed, so I came back early."

Emmett looked up from the tap. "You did the right thing sending those immature brats home."

Nodding, Kendall said, "Yeah, but doing the right thing doesn't mean I'm immune from second thoughts and regrets."

"I get it," Emmett said as he placed a mug of beer on Kendall's tray. "Try not to dwell on it, though."

Kendall gave him a mock salute, but the bartender didn't see it because he was too busy scanning the crowded club. Curious about what had snagged Emmett's attention, Kendall pivoted and followed the bartender's line of sight. A corner of the dance floor was visible as well as most of the dining room. The angle of the bar put the fugitive and the deputy marshal front and center for Emmett.

"I don't like him."

Kendall spun around and looked at Emmett. "Who?"

"The sketchy-looking dude Colt and Carey were fighting over. He's been here for hours and keeps shoving wings into his mouth."

"They're damn fine wings," Kendall replied. "This week's featured flavor seems to be a big hit."

"Maybe." Emmett's voice said he wasn't buying it. The bartender narrowed his eyes and continued to stare.

Kendall was tempted to look in James's direction again to see if something had happened, but Ridge's warning echoed in his ears. If the perp caught them looking at him, he might get spooked and bolt before Ridge had a chance to warn the others.

Jesus. How in the world had he landed in the middle of this mess? The truth really was stranger than fiction. Kendall's phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him from his pity party for one. He retrieved the device and groaned when he saw the caller.

"It's Drew," he told Emmett. "I bet the twins called him to complain about me."

"Without a doubt," the bartender replied. "Answer it. Best not to keep the boss man waiting."

Kendall stepped away from the bar to answer the call. "Hey, Drew," he said into the phone. "I can explain everything."

"Whoa," his boss said. "I was just checking in to see how your first shift as manager was going."

"Oh." Kendall's voice and energy resembled a deflating balloon.

Drew chuckled. "But you have my attention now."

Kendall grimaced, then told Drew about Colt and Carey's fight and his plans to formally write them up. All the while, he kept an eye on the fugitive scarfing down wings like it was his last meal. The thought made Kendall stumble over his words.

"Are you okay?" Drew asked once he finished.

"Me? Sure. Why do you ask?"

"Your voice sounded funny there for a second," Drew explained.

Kendall took a deep breath to focus his squirrelly brain. "Sorry about that. I'm just keeping an eye on my tables."

"Your tables?"

He explained his decision to pick up Colt's and Carey's sections and split their tips among the other servers. "I thought it was the right thing to do."

"Absolutely," Drew agreed. "This just proves I made the right decision to promote you to manager. Do you need me to come in and help?"

"No," Kendall replied, though he appreciated the gesture. "We only have a few hours left before last call."

"Let me know if you change your mind," Drew said.

"Will do."

The men exchanged goodbyes, and Kendall tucked his phone away as he returned to the bar.

"I added another soda for the sketchy dude," Emmett said.

"Thanks."

Kendall hoisted the loaded tray in the air and headed to the dining area. He plastered a smile on his face and began his rounds at the opposite end of the room from James, saving his soda delivery for last. His heart beat faster with every step closer to the scary man, and it was doing a damn fine impersonation of a jackhammer by the time Kendall reached his table.

"The bartender thought you might be thirsty," he told the fugitive.

James lifted his head, and dull, lifeless eyes stared back at Kendall. The man's lips slanted into a cruel sneer. "Does he want to fuck me too?"

A scathing remark was on the tip of Kendall's tongue, and only the worry he might blow Ridge's opportunity to capture the asshole prevented the words from escaping his lips. "Not that I'm aware of," he said instead. Before he could congratulate himself on his maturity and restraint, Kendall opened his mouth and ruined everything. "Do you want me to go ask him?"

The sneer turned into a scary scowl. "Fuck no. Gross. I'm just here for the wings, man." The guy pulled his napkin off his lap, proving even the worst people could use good etiquette, and wiped his mouth. James tossed the napkin and reached for his wallet. A shiver of anticipation raced through Kendall. This was it . The fugitive was going to ask for his bill. But instead of pulling out a credit card, James handed Kendall three crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. The man scooted his chair back and rose to his feet. "That ought to be enough to cover the food and provide a nice tip for the trouble I caused."

Kendall craned his neck to meet James's dark gaze. How fucking tall was this guy? The rap sheet he'd seen said six four, but he seemed much taller. "Trouble?" he asked. Kendall darted a glance in Ridge's direction to see if he was witnessing the interaction. A waiter had stopped at his table and stood directly in Kendall's line of sight, which meant Ridge wouldn't be able to see him either. Fuck .

James shifted closer to Kendall, pulling his attention back to the scary fugitive. "I'm like a magnet," he said.

With his adrenaline spiking, it took Kendall a moment to remember what they'd been discussing. Trouble . James was admitting to being at the center of it all the time. Kendall had to stall the man until he could tip Ridge off. Forcing a flirty smile to his lips, Kendall batted his eyelashes. "I know a little something about causing trouble."

James raked his dark gaze over Kendall before meeting his eyes once more. "I just bet you do."

Kendall was about five seconds away from pissing himself, so he changed tactics. "This tip is too generous. Are you sure you don't want change?"

James quirked a brow at the sudden topic shift, and Kendall worried he'd tripped his alarm. Instead, the man gave him another genuine smile. "Nah. You've earned it for putting up with me. I always tip servers and sex workers well."

Kendall wasn't shocked often, but James's offhanded comment caught him off guard. "Well, that's nice of you. How about a drink to go?"

"I—"

A loud crash in the dining room interrupted James's response. Kendall recognized the sound of shattering dishes and glassware and automatically turned in the direction of the noise to assess the damage. Unfortunately, James was equally curious and diverted his gaze as well. Two waiters had collided right in front of Ridge's table. The lawman looked up from the fray and locked eyes with Kendall before glancing at the fugitive standing beside him.

"A fucking cop!" James snarled just as Ridge shot to his feet with his gun drawn.

The fugitive probably had an embedded alarm system alerting him to the presence of law enforcement—copdar instead of gaydar. James's survival instincts must have kicked in. He hooked a beefy arm around Kendall's neck, yanking him to his chest as a human shield.

A metal click sounded near Kendall's right ear, and a second later something sharp pressed into his neck. His bladder spasmed and threatened to empty right there, but he held on somehow. The last thing he needed was James slipping in his piss and nicking an artery.

The guests and staff around them screamed and ran for cover, triggering a reactionary effect until everyone was screaming and scrambling toward the exit. It felt like it was only the three of them left in the bar. Ridge's face was hard as stone and laser focused as he aimed his gun at James.

"US marshal," he declared. "Drop the weapon and let the man go."

"Fuck you," James snarled, tightening the headlock until black dots swam in front of Kendall's vision. "Drop the fucking tray, or I'll gut you like a fish."

He'd forgotten he still held it but became acutely aware of his fingers clutching the rim. Kendall tightened his grip on the rigid plastic instead of letting go. If he could command his arms to work, maybe he could use the tray as a weapon.

"Do it right now," the angry man hissed, pushing the tip of his blade deeper into Kendall's skin.

A sharp, burning sensation was followed by warm liquid trickling down Kendall's neck, and the urge to vomit replaced the need to piss himself. If he was going to die, he wanted to do it with dignity. Letting go of the large round tray required a lot of mental energy and repetitive commands to his brain before his fingers loosened enough to let it drop to the floor. Kendall was utterly defenseless unless he considered his biting wit and sharp tongue, both of which seemed to have abandoned him.

James sidestepped a few feet to the right, forcing Kendall to come with him. "Stay back. I won't hesitate to kill him."

"You know damn well I won't let you leave here with a hostage," Ridge said. "I will shoot you."

James sidestepped a little more, but Ridge kept pace from two rows over. His gun never wavered. "And risk shooting the hostage?" James asked. "I don't think so."

Kendall would rather take his chances with Ridge's aim than face whatever James had in store for him.

A cocky grin tugged at the marshal's lips, distracting Kendall from his panic. "I never miss."

The fugitive paused for a second before continuing toward the exit. "I'll let him go as soon as I get outside."

No, he wouldn't. James would kill Kendall in the parking lot or force him into the car and dispose of him later. Neither option was desirable.

"Bullshit," Ridge said. "You're not going to leave a witness, James."

The burly man paused again. "So you know who I am."

"You thought he was here for his health?" Kendall asked.

James snorted. "The wings are excellent. Cops gotta eat too. Could've been a coincidence."

Ridge's jaw tensed, telling Kendall his distraction techniques weren't welcome or wise. "Yeah, I know who you are. I know where you're going too," Ridge said.

"Disney World?" Kendall guessed. Fuck . What was wrong with him? It was as if his brain couldn't control his bladder and his mouth at the same time.

James chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. "To hell," he replied.

"Eventually, I'm sure," Ridge agreed. "But not until you spend the rest of your life in a prison cell."

"I'll pass," James said and began moving again.

Panic rose inside Kendall with each step they took toward the front door. He could tell they were getting close to the edge of the dining room, which meant he was running out of time. Damn it. There were so many things he wanted to do and needed to say, and there was a deputy marshal he hadn't fondled. He couldn't die yet.

"Chipotle pepper!" Kendall blurted.

He must've startled James because the arm around his neck loosened, and the press of the knife eased. Now or never . Kendall swung his fist back as hard as he could, tagging the man in the balls. He didn't care how big and tough James was; that area was every man's weakness.

The knife clattered to the floor seconds before James buckled forward. Kendall took advantage of the momentum to slip free. Instead of running away like an intelligent person would, Kendall aimed a kick at James's knee, sending him sprawling to the ground where he curled into the fetal position. Kendall kicked the knife away and glanced up in time to see Ridge leaping over the last chair separating them. He started to breathe a sigh of relief until he saw James reach for a gun holstered at his ankle.

"Gun!" Kendall shouted as he frantically searched for a way to help.

His gaze landed on an abandoned serving tray on the table beside him. Without thinking, he picked it up and swung it down on James's head. It connected with a loud thud , and the big man went completely limp.

"Christ," Ridge said as he reached them. He fished a pair of cuffs out of his back pocket and snapped them into place on James's wrists. He stood up, his chest heaving, and surveyed Kendall as he pushed a button on his phone. "You okay?"

Kendall opened his mouth but couldn't speak, so he shook his head. Concern washed over Ridge's features as he stepped forward and pulled Kendall into his arms. A man's voice came through Ridge's phone, but Kendall couldn't tell which one of the guys he'd called.

"I wasn't talking to you, Eduardo, but it's good to know you're okay. I got James. Get your asses in here to collect him, and call for an ambulance." He stowed his phone away in his pocket and gently pushed Kendall back a step so he could probe his neck.

" You got James, huh?" Kendall's voice sounded a little shaky, but who could blame him?

Ridge snapped his gaze up. His brown eyes were warm and soft where they'd been hard and cold just moments before. "Fine. You got James."

"I'll keep your secret." Kendall's head suddenly felt fuzzy and heavy. Something was off. How much blood had he lost? "Am I dying? Quick. Let me fondle your abs before I take my final breath."

"Hey, hey," Ridge said softly before pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. Kendall closed his eyes and sighed. No man had ever kissed him so tenderly. "Just breathe. You're going to be okay. The cut is superficial, but it is bleeding." He glanced around, then grabbed a stack of napkins off the table next to them. He peeled off a few and held them to Kendall's neck. "Can you hold these against the wound?"

Could he? Kendall couldn't seem to get his limbs to work at all.

"If you want to touch my abs, you'll need to put some pressure on that cut."

Kendall took a deep breath, dug deep, and applied all the pressure he could muster to the wound.

"I could've done without your smartass commentary," Ridge said, "but that was some fast thinking at the end. What was the deal with the chipotle pepper?"

Ridge's smile unlocked parts of Kendall's frozen brain. "James had asked me what pepper we used in the sweet chili lime sauce because it was more smoky than hot. Of course I hadn't told him, so I just blurted it out, hoping to catch him off guard."

"Well, it worked."

Thunderous footsteps approached, but Kendall couldn't force his gaze away from the sexy man in front of him.

"What the hell happened in here?" Eddie asked them. "One minute, everything is quiet and we're fighting off sleep while waiting for you to signal us…"

"And the next, everyone comes screaming out of the club," Zack continued.

Ridge smirked at them. "That was your signal."

"Couldn't you have just texted or called as we'd discussed?" Zack asked.

"No time," Ridge replied.

"And him?" Eddie asked, gesturing to the prone man on the ground. "What happened to James?"

"Kendall did," Ridge replied.

"Nice," Eddie said while Zack nodded his approval. They both bumped Kendall's fist.

He told them what happened, then told SPD and then the EMTs when they arrived on the scene. The marshals escorted James out of the club, and Kendall had overheard they were taking him to the hospital to rule out a concussion before taking him to lockup. Kendall had declined transportation after he assessed his injury in the bathroom. Mass pandemonium ensued when the staff returned to give their statements, and Drew showed up to make sure everyone was okay. It seemed like Kendall had rehashed the story at least a thousand times before he found a few quiet moments to himself in his office.

"There you are," Drew said, stepping into the room. His black hair was still disheveled, and his pale eyes studied Kendall from behind black-rimmed glasses. "Are you okay?"

Kendall inclined his head and smiled. "Do you think my answer will be any different than the previous hundred times I've given it tonight?"

Drew smiled and dropped onto the small couch tucked away in the corner. "I think you're going to tell me whatever it is you think I want to hear."

"Probably."

"Okay," Drew said, "I want the truth."

Kendall took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I'm as good as can be expected."

"Why don't you go on home and let me close up."

Drew hadn't wanted to reopen the club once the crime scene had been processed, but Kendall talked him into taking advantage of the buzz generated by the takedown. Maybe it was tacky, but Kendall was the only staff member involved, and he'd prefer to work through his adrenaline rather than go to an empty house. What Kendall wanted more than anything was to talk to Ridge again. Okay, maybe talking wasn't the first thing he wanted to do. Ridge had disappeared quickly and without so much as a goodbye. Kendall still had his number programmed into his phone, but it wouldn't be appropriate to text him. Would it? Besides, he would be busy dealing with James.

"Kendall," Drew said, interrupting his thoughts.

He met his boss's concerned gaze and smiled. "I'd rather stay here."

Drew raised his hands in surrender. "I can tell when I'm not going to win an argument. I'm going to insist you take a few days off, though."

"Okay. I'll let you twist my arm."

They chatted for a few minutes, then Drew left the club. Kendall resumed waiting tables, noting the club was busier than it had been before the showdown with James.

"I'm not going to ask how you're doing," Emmett said when Kendall stopped by the bar to place drink orders.

Kendall sagged against the long stretch of polished wood. "Thank goodness."

"I'm going to tell you," the bartender said. Uh-oh . "Pay attention to the expressions in the staff's eyes when they look at you. It's been a shitty night full of ups and downs, but the respect you've earned tonight is no small victory."

After he left the bar with his heavy tray, Kendall let Emmett's words soak in, and he allowed himself to really see what he'd missed in the winks and nods the staff had given him. Respect. It bolstered his energy when his adrenaline caught the last bus out of town.

I can do this . I can really fucking do this .