Chapter Thirteen

A t the end of his shift, Ridge shut down his computer and headed out. Carmen Elliot's house was only a few blocks from the marshals' field office, which meant he arrived at her door around dinner time. Carmen's house was similar to the one he shared with Kendall from the size and architectural style to the flower beds overflowing with colorful blooms. Not sharing , dumbass . You're renting a room . Unlike Kendall's house, a fence surrounded the backyard. A children's pool, tricycles, and a swing set were visible from the sidewalk, but none were in use.

"Can I help you?" a woman asked as soon as Ridge took one step toward Carmen's house.

He turned and smiled at the neighbor, who was rocking on her front porch. She wore a strapless purple dress, a matching hair wrap, and a don't-mess-with-me expression. "Good evening, ma'am. I'm here to talk to Carmen."

"Uh-huh," she replied, sounding bored.

"Is she home?"

"The woman has three kids. Does it sound like she's home to you?" Carmen's house was quiet, so Ridge shook his head. The neighbor lady tilted her head and studied Ridge for a moment. "Come here. I'd like to speak to you, and I don't feel like yelling across the yard."

Ridge chuckled and walked to her house. "May I?" he gestured to the porch.

She nodded. "I do like your manners."

"I'll be sure to tell my mother." He extended his hand, which she reluctantly accepted. "My name is Kurt Dandridge, but my friends call me Ridge."

"Gemma," she replied. "Which branch of law enforcement do you work for?"

"I'm a marshal, ma'am."

Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't believe I've ever met one of those before, but I have seen some in movies."

"Can't always believe what you see in the movies."

"So you're not a group of badasses?" Gemma asked.

"No, we are, but we're much cooler than we appear in films."

She chuckled. "Uh-huh. Maybe I like you, marshal." Gemma gestured for him to have a seat. She had two metal chairs that were painted to look like desert landscapes. They reminded him of his grandparents' chairs when he was a kid, but those had been painted a dull shade of gray.

"I'm honored, ma'am." He lowered himself into the chair, expecting it to protest his bulk, but it held steady. "These chairs are beautiful."

She gave him a dazzling smile. "Thank you. They are my latest creations."

"You painted these?" he asked.

"I find them cheap at yard sales and repair the metal. Then it's only a matter of elbow grease and getting lost in my art."

"Do you sell them?"

Gemma nodded. "I go to craft fairs and have an online Etsy shop. I also take custom orders if you know someone who might be interested."

Ridge had no need for them, but he knew someone who'd love them. "I'd like to commission a set."

"Doesn't mean I'm going to talk about Carmen or her loser boyfriend."

"I respect that, and I still want to order a set." He spent the next few minutes describing the landscapes back home and his mother's personality. Gemma told him she'd google pictures of the area for inspiration.

"So, why does a marshal want to talk to Carmen?" Gemma asked. "She's just a hardworking woman with horrible taste in men. Surely that's not a federal crime."

Ridge laughed. "No, ma'am. And if we think prisons are overcrowded now, can you imagine if bad taste in partners becomes a chargeable offense?" He would definitely be incarcerated over Todd.

"Why are you here?"

"With all due respect, I'm not at liberty to discuss my reasons with you."

Gemma sighed and shook her head. "I had high hopes for you." She slapped her palms on her thighs before standing up. Ridge rose too. "I charge two hundred for a custom set of chairs. Then there will be the shipping costs. Still interested?"

"Absolutely." Ridge retrieved his wallet and pulled out five twenties and one of his business cards. "Here's half up front. You can call me when they're ready. I'll take care of shipping them to my mom."

Gemma took the money and his card, then searched his eyes again. "Don't get her killed. Those babies need their mama."

A lump formed in Ridge's throat. "I don't want any harm to come to Carmen."

"They watch her, you know."

"Is that why she left?"

"Left?" Gemma asked. "Carmen hasn't run away. She's simply at work."

"But she's injured."

"Her kids still need to eat."

Ridge could see her point. "Willie has guys watching her?" He subtly repositioned his body so he could scan the street. Nothing looked out of place.

"They're not going to hang out here when they could keep an eye on her at the club," Gemma said. "They're dedicated to Willie but not that much."

Ridge chuckled. "Thanks for your help."

Gemma shook her head. "All I did was sell you a set of chairs. I'll be in touch soon."

"Looking forward to it."

Ridge felt Gemma's eyes on him as he strode to his SUV. He waved as he drove off, then paid attention to make sure no one was following him. He took a circuitous route to the strip joint where Carmen Elliot worked.

Tit for Tat may have been on the same strip as The Cockpit, but that was where the similarities ended. The exterior sign had a neon, busty woman gyrating so her ample breasts bounced. Her nipples were covered with smiley faces, and Ridge had used thicker dental floss to clean his teeth than the G-string she wore. Once inside, the only difference between the neon lady and the ones serving up drinks and lap dances was the lack of smiley faces. The only thing on the servers' chests was body glitter to draw attention to their assets. Ridge had spent enough time with his mom in her craft room to know that shit went everywhere. How did anyone explain away the glitter stuck to their clothes and bodies after a night of debauchery?

"Hey, baby," said a sultry female voice. The stunning brunette was almost as tall as Ridge in her high heels. She raked her gaze over him from head to toe. "I'm Destiny. Welcome to Tit for Tat. Would you like a booth, a table, or a private room?"

Ridge quirked his brow. "Private room?" he asked. That didn't sound the slightest bit sketchy.

"For lap dances and peep shows," Destiny explained. She sauntered closer and raked a fingernail over his chest. "What's your poison tonight, baby?"

An enigmatic platinum-blond man with mesmerizing blue eyes and the softest pink lips Ridge had ever kissed. But that wasn't what Destiny had asked. He pulled his badge out and showed it to her. "None of the above."

Destiny huffed a frustrated sigh on her way back to the podium. "Well, damn. What can I do for you, then?"

"I'd like to speak to Carmen Elliot."

Destiny stiffened and scowled. "What do you want with Carmen? Life has knocked her around enough already, so you leave her alone."

"Did life knock her around, or was it Willie?" Ridge countered.

The hostess softened slightly, but her eyes still glittered with suspicion. "What do you want with her?"

"I just want to help," Ridge said. And he meant it. If he could offer Carmen a way out, he'd gladly do it.

"Yeah, I bet. You'll help yourself to her—"

"I'm gay," Ridge said.

"Oh." Destiny bit her lip and cast a glance toward the interior of the club. He saw the internal war raging behind the woman's eyes.

"I just want to help her," he reiterated.

"Men don't do anything for free, especially cops. You always want something in return. Maybe you don't want a blow job, but you're after something. You'll get her killed in the process."

"I'll do everything in my power to keep her safe," Ridge said. "Having this debate with you right now will only call unwanted attention to me. Just tell me where I can find Carmen."

Destiny arched a brow. "And just how do you plan to help her, law man?"

"Those are options I'll need to discuss with her," Ridge said. "I'm not leaving until I speak to her, so save us both the hassle and tell me where I can find her."

Destiny's shoulders slumped forward. "Benny said she could work in the kitchen until her bruises heal. Carmen can't afford to go weeks without a check, and this shithole doesn't offer any kind of benefits. Shake your tits, sway your ass, or go broke."

"Benny sounds like a great guy."

She shrugged. "He's worse than some but better than most."

"A ringing endorsement if ever I heard one," Ridge said. "Carmen is lucky to have a friend like you." And Gemma too.

Destiny smiled, then told him how to find the entrance to the kitchen. Since it was in a dark hallway, he saw and heard things that made his skin crawl. He'd never been happier to step into a kitchen in his life. Everyone glanced up and stared at the newcomer, but Ridge's eyes narrowed in on the petite woman washing dishes. Her bruises were now a greenish yellow, and Ridge could tell her jaw was still swollen. She was stunning despite her injuries. Carmen Elliot's eyes widened in fear when Ridge headed her direction.

He held up his hands to show he meant her no harm. "Carmen Elliot?"

A Hispanic man stepped in front of Ridge to block his path. "Who the hell wants to know?" Ridge showed the man his badge. "A marshal?"

Carmen approached them and rested her hand on the man's shoulder, patting it twice. "It's okay, José." Her voice was soft but confident. "I know why he's here. You're Dandridge, aren't you?"

"You've heard of me?" he asked.

"Willie and Sheldon have spoken of you often."

Ridge raised a brow. "All glowing things, I'm sure."

She didn't so much as smile. "I can't help you."

"Can't or won't?"

Carmen took a deep breath. "Can't. I know you're trying to get justice for that little girl, and I commend you. I have kids too, and I won't risk their lives. Not even for her."

"What if I could help you?" Ridge asked.

"Help me? How?"

Ridge lifted his hand and gestured to the room. "Is this the life you want to live?"

She stiffened, and anger simmered behind her eyes. Good . Get mad . It meant she had a fighting spirit. Maybe Willie's abuse had made her temporarily forget the steel in her spine, but Ridge could see Carmen's resilience shimmering in her dark eyes. "Now you're an expert on my life?" she asked. "If I don't help you, you're going to do what? Turn me in so the county takes my kids away?"

"Nope. If you know something that can help bring down the Cardoza cartel, I'll help you and your kids find a fresh start somewhere else. New identities so Willie and the cartel won't be able to find you."

A dark brow shot up, and a spark of hope softened her jaded gaze. "Witness protection?"

Ridge nodded. "I will do my best to ensure you and your children are safe."

"You talk a big game. Where's the proof?" Carmen asked.

"I can't make you promises until I know what kind of information you have."

"Well, isn't that fucking rich?" Carmen crossed her arms over her chest. "Let me get this straight. I'm supposed to tell you everything I know, and you'll run it up the ladder to see if the information is worth saving my life." She took a step back and waved both her hands. "Hell no. Get on outta here."

He wasn't the type to give up so quickly, but Carmen already knew that if Willie and Sheldon had talked about Ridge in front of her. The hope he'd briefly witnessed in her eyes fizzled out. "You and I both know Willie is going to get out of jail. Then what?"

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not dropping the charges this time."

"His men are watching you."

"So? They haven't made a move on me."

"Only because you haven't given them a reason to. That all changes when Willie realizes you're going to testify against him in the domestic abuse trial. He isn't stupid—"

"Willie's the dumbest fucker to draw breath," Carmen said.

"Maybe his IQ isn't anything to brag about, but he makes up for it in street smarts. If you're willing to sit in a courtroom and talk about his abuse, he's going to wonder who else you're talking to and what you're saying to them. He's not going to take the chance, Carmen. Even if Willie hesitates because of his affection for you, his associates won't be as forgiving."

Carmen looked around the kitchen as if she were assessing the danger right then and there. Her dark eyes met Ridge's again, and they crackled with rage. "You've put my life at risk just by coming here."

"You'd be in protective custody before and during the trial. We'd set you up with a completely new identity afterward. I know you're scared—"

"Fuck you. I'm a survivor." Carmen closed her eyes and trembled as she inhaled deeply. Tears trickled down her face as she continued mulling over her options. After a few moments, Carmen reopened her eyes, and Ridge felt like he was looking at a different person. "But my babies shouldn't have to live in constant fear. Do you really want to help me?"

"I do. I can't promise you this will go the way we want it to, but I assure you that I'm committed to seeing it through. I need your help, Carmen."

The woman swallowed hard and held out her hand. "Give me your card. Let me sleep on it."

Ridge pulled a card from his wallet and gave it to her. "Call me anytime. I mean it." He looked around the kitchen and was surprised no one seemed to be paying attention to them.

"These are my people. I'm safe here." She smiled at Ridge then. "He calls you Pat Garrett, you know?"

"Willie?"

She shook her head. "Harris. He's obsessed with the Old West and gunslingers. And not just the movies. He's a walking encyclopedia of facts. He believes in settling disputes in the streets."

"Guess that makes him Billy the Kid, and we all know how that turned out. Call me, Carmen. Day or night."

He stepped out of the kitchen and back into the darkened hallway. Left would take him to an emergency exit, probably to the back of the building, and right would take him down the hall of horrors. The emergency exit probably opened to a back parking lot, and he had no way of knowing what dangers could be lurking there. Ridge chose the wisest route and kept his eyes straight ahead as he passed the writhing and groaning couples.

Destiny gave him a finger wave as he reached her. "You get what you came for?"

Ridge shrugged. "Time will tell."

Grateful to escape the cloying smell of perfume and desperation, Ridge took a big gulp of fresh air and nearly choked on the humidity. Christ, he hated summer in Savannah. Ridge cranked up the air conditioning and steered his SUV toward home. Kendall's home . He was both excited and anxious to see Kendall again but worried he wouldn't be able to keep his guilt over that morning's jerkfest off his face. He didn't want Kendall to know he'd shot his load while staring at his ass in those too- tight boxers. Just recalling the moment made his head spin and his dick throb.

Ridge parked in the driveway and forced himself to whistle as he strolled toward the house. As he neared the porch, he heard music coming from inside. Ridge immediately thought of the bodies pressed together on the dance floor at The Cockpit. Then his mind shifted to Kendall dancing for him in a pair of lacy black underwear. His brain stuttered to a stop when he opened the door and saw his fantasy was on the verge of becoming a reality.

Kendall stood at the stove wearing only a tiny pair of shorts. His hips swayed to a song about dancing with a stranger. It was the most hypnotic thing Ridge had ever seen and was far hotter than the temperature outside. He shut the front door harder than he intended, and his tormentor spun around, clutching his bare chest.

Ridge raked his gaze over Kendall's dewy skin and said, "Honey, I'm home."