Chapter Twenty-One

W histles greeted Ridge when he stepped into the bullpen the following day.

Zack leaned his ass against Eddie's desk and raked his gaze over Ridge. "Why are you so dressed up?"

"It's a shirt, tie, and dress pants," Ridge replied. "Why are you acting like I turned up in a tuxedo?"

Ridge locked eyes with Eddie, who just shook his head. He knew Ridge hadn't returned to the apartment as they'd discussed. "What gives?" Eddie asked. "Are you attending a funeral today?" His best friend's scowl made it clear he thought Ridge's career was dead in the water.

Christ , Eddie . I get it . I fucked up . But he didn't regret his decision. Maybe a little when he'd been forced to put on a high-collared shirt to hide the freaking hickey Kendall had left on his neck at some point the previous day or when their farewell tour had rolled over to Monday morning. They'd barely separated long enough to take care of the most basic functions, so he hadn't noticed the problem until he'd gone into the bathroom to start getting ready for work.

"Got my days turned around and thought I had court duty," Ridge tossed out as he set his coffee cup and keys on his desk. "Have you seen Marks? I need to run something by her."

Eddie's expression begged him to reconsider ruining his career, but he said, "Yeah."

He took a sip of coffee to shore up his nerves and headed out of the bullpen. Ridge knocked on Assistant Chief Deputy Marks's open door. "Do you have a minute, Chief?"

She paused her typing to wave him in before resuming her task. Ridge sat down in a chair opposite her desk and patiently waited while she finished. Adrenaline raced through his blood, and he squelched the urge to bounce his knees and fidget while trying to figure out how much to say about his involvement with Kendall. He noticed she'd added another photo of her twin sons to the collection on her credenza. This time they posed in baseball uniforms but for opposing teams.

"You have my undivided attention now, Dandridge."

He met her gaze head-on. This is it. Time to come clean. "Having two kids playing sports all year round must be tough. Juggling separate teams must be brutal." Nice going , chickenshit .

Marks was impervious to his internal struggle and laughed. "Keeps things interesting for sure."

Ridge smiled and relaxed a little. "What's the competition like in your house?"

Marks shook her head. "It's not as bad as it looks. Both my boys love playing sports, but Eric is just naturally better at it than Ethan. Eric had the opportunity to play for a select team, and we had some tough decisions to make. He had outgrown the rec league he'd been playing for since he was big enough to hold a bat. Ethan is a better athlete than most kids but is only an average baseball player. Did we hold Eric back from pursuing opportunities to spare Ethan's feelings? No. Ethan is Eric's biggest fan and wants the best for his brother."

"Sounds like you have great kids," Ridge said.

She held up her hand and rocked it from side to side. "They'll do in a pinch." Smiling, she dropped her hand back to the desk. "But you didn't come in here for parenting tips, did you?"

"Not yet, but maybe someday."

Marks laughed. "I'll be ready. What can I do for you right now?"

Ridge decided to broach the easiest topic first. He handed her the information he'd found on Willie Morrison. "This is the best chance I've had in five years to capture Sheldon Harris. I'm close. I can feel it."

"What do you need from me?"

Ridge recounted his conversation with Carmen Elliot and his belief she could be the key to unraveling the whole thing. "I think she really wants to talk but needs some assurances. I've given her some time to think it over and would like to approach her again."

Marks narrowed her eyes and drummed her fingers on her desk. "I'm not sure," she said after a long pause, then lifted her hand before Ridge could speak again. "Hear me out for a minute. The fact that she's alive tells me she doesn't know anything of value to us."

"Or has the cartel underestimated her?" Ridge countered. "It's entirely feasible she has all the dirt on them without their knowledge."

"It's possible," Marks said.

"And I know for a fact they've talked about me in front of her. Their nickname for me is Pat Garrett."

Marks tilted her head. "She could've made that up to flatter you."

"Yes, she could have."

"But you believe her?" Marks asked.

"I do. I believe Carmen wants to do the right thing, but protecting her kids is her primary concern. Carmen isn't convinced she can trust us."

"What do you propose?"

Ridge breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't expected Marks to shoot him down outright, but asking her to rely on his hunches was a pretty giant leap of faith. "I told Carmen we can't make her any guarantees until she tells us what she knows. She doesn't want to tell us anything until she hears what we can offer in return for information and testimony."

"The chief director and I could sit down with Carmen and give her an idea of what her future could look like, but we can't help the woman if she's not willing to meet us halfway. The other option is to go straight to Willie and offer him the same opportunity."

The thought made Ridge sick to his stomach. "It's a sucky alternative."

"Agreed," Marks said. "What if we just make her think that's what we'll do if she doesn't help us?"

Ridge didn't like that any better, but he couldn't think of another option, so he nodded. "I'll leave going to Willie as a last resort. Thanks, Chief."

"No problem. Keep me updated." She called out his name when he reached the door. He turned and met her curious expression. "What's going on there?" she asked, gesturing to his clothes.

Ridge looked down the length of his body, worrying he'd mismatched his shoes again or something. Nope. She was smirking when he made eye contact. "What do you mean? It's just a simple shirt and tie."

Marks narrowed her eyes. "You're not on courthouse detail this week, and you never dress up voluntarily." Her lips tilted into a teasing smile. "Reminds me of the time our oldest son dressed in a suit for church without being told to. It never happened. Andre had been attending services every Sunday without fail for nearly eighteen years. I'd reminded him every week during breakfast that he needed to wear a suit, except for the morning after senior prom. The silly fool thought he could hide a hickey under his shirt collar without me noticing."

Busted . Ridge chuckled to cover his embarrassment. "Did he forget what you do for a living?"

"Right? I asked Andre if he planned to wear a suit every day until the hickey went away. You should've seen the look on his face."

Ridge figured his looked pretty much the same. "A bit shortsighted, huh?"

Marks nodded. "Turns out Andre hadn't thought that far ahead. Hormones and such. So we swung by the drugstore on the way to church to find a concealer that matched his skin tone."

"That's good information to have… if I should ever need it."

"Uh-huh. Keep me posted about Carmen."

"Yes, ma'am."

She tilted her head and studied him. "Is there something else on your mind, Dandridge?"

It was his opportunity to come clean. Instead, he said, "No, ma'am."

"Our real estate assessors will be assessing the property values for Burkhart's and Jones's commercial and personal real estate. Since you're dressed for the part, I'd like you to supervise. They're starting at the corporate office in thirty minutes."

Ridge didn't budge from the threshold. This was the time to explain his predicament or at least find a legitimate reason to recuse himself. To remain silent was inexcusable and would be damning if it blew up in his face. Then he remembered Kendall snuggling in his arms in the predawn hours. Telling Marks would force Ridge to make a choice he wasn't ready to make.

"Dandridge? Is there a problem?"

"No, ma'am." Only that he was a fucking idiot. He mentally kicked his ass all the way back to his desk. What the fuck was wrong with him? He ended his internal ranting when he noted his keys were missing. He knew damn well he'd left them on his desk before going to speak to Marks. He opened each drawer and even checked the trash can. His keys weren't anywhere to be found. The office was suspiciously empty, and Ridge got the impression he was the butt of another stupid prank. "Not now, guys," he muttered as he moved over to Eddie's desk.

Footsteps echoed on the tile floor, and Ridge jerked his head up when Zack entered the room. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a file in the other. "What's going on?"

"I stupidly left my keys on my desk while meeting with Marks." It was never wise to leave shit unattended around these animals.

Zack set his drink and file down. "And someone took them. We're immature assholes sometimes, huh?"

"Sometimes?"

Zack snorted and helped Ridge look. They made quick work of searching all the desks, trash cans, and even the supply closet. No keys.

"I don't have time for this shit. I have to meet the appraisers at Burkhart and Jones in"—Ridge checked his watch—"fifteen minutes."

"Sign out a car from the impound lot," Zack said.

Oh, sure. Debauch Burkhart's stepson, supervise his asset forfeiture, and drive the bastard's car. That wouldn't reek of impropriety.

Zack slapped his arm to get his attention, then pulled a set of keys from his pocket. "Take mine. I'll sign something out before I leave. I've never driven a Bentley before."

Ridge accepted the keys. "Thanks, man. You're a lifesaver."

He headed out to the parking lot and pushed the remote to see what Zack was driving. The responding beep came from the far-right corner. Ridge turned his head and groaned when he saw the bright pink Volkswagen Beetle with yellow flowers and ladybugs painted on it. Someone had even added what appeared to be long eyelashes over the headlights. Ridge turned and looked up to the floor where their offices were located. He couldn't see Zack through the tinted windows but knew the asshole was up there, laughing his ass off. Ridge shot him the double bird and headed for the Beetle.

He wanted to be pissed but figured the universe was calling him out on his recent sketchy behavior. It didn't mean Ridge wouldn't pay those fuckers back, though. He'd just have to get really creative and bide his time to ensure it was as epic as this prank. When he started the car, the radio blared "Barbie Girl" from the speakers so loudly he nearly pissed himself.

Ridge reached over and turned the volume down, and that's when he heard the hooting and hollering. Every single one of the assholes had come outside to enjoy their joke. Some of them were doubled over while others were filming the incident on their phones.

He'd give them something to record. Ridge rolled down the windows and cranked the radio up. He backed out of the parking spot and drove a big loop around the lot, holding out his middle finger as he passed his so-called friends. It was hard to tell who was laughing harder—them or him—by the time he exited the lot and turned onto the main street. Ridge forgot to turn the music down until he reached the next intersection and got a dirty look from an elderly woman.

Fuck. She probably thought he was a pervert trying to lure kids into his car. Ridge rolled his windows up, blasted the air conditioning, and tried his best to forget what he was driving. He'd nearly accomplished the feat until he pulled into the lot at Burkhart and Jones and found their appraisers, Emma and Jess, speaking with the Burkharts' attorney, Roger Carmichael, and another suited gentleman.

The group gawked at him when he exited the hot-pink mess and headed in their direction.

Emma's ruby red lips trembled, but she was the first to recover. "Good to see you again, Dandridge."

"Always good to see you, Ms. Hampton," he replied warmly. Emma had pulled her sleek black hair into a ponytail, showing off her delicate bone structure that always reminded Ridge of fairies. He knew from sparring with Emma that her lavender suit jacket hid a colorful dragon tattoo sleeve on her left arm. It was every bit as fierce as the woman who wore it, and it was no mystery why Zack was so crazy about her. Ridge's friends had excellent taste in partners, and he wished he could introduce Emma and Jess to Kendall.

Jess gestured to the car's eyelashes. "I've heard about the pranks you marshals pull on one another, but this is the first time I've witnessed one. Wow."

"You don't like Bessie?" he asked. "She drives like a champ."

The man Ridge didn't recognize stepped over and jabbed his finger toward Ridge's chest. Luckily the asshole stopped just short of touching him. "Can we get started, or do the three of you want to exchange recipes first?" he asked in a snide tone. "I want to get this over with."

Ridge glanced over at Roger Carmichael. He held up his hands and shook his head, signaling he didn't want to be lumped in with the acerbic jerkwad. Ridge turned to the stranger and said, "And you are?"

"Maximillian Ambrose," he replied.

"Don't forget ‘the fourth,'" Emma said, earning an arctic glare from the man.

"I'm representing the Jones family," Ambrose said.

"Deputy Kurt Dandridge." Ridge didn't bother extending his hand. The lawyer wasn't interested in exchanging pleasantries, and Ridge didn't want any of his smarminess to rub off on him. Instead, he gestured to the front of the building. "After you."

Emma, Jess, and Ridge fell in behind the two lawyers, who'd started to bicker quietly.

"Seems like someone is in a hurry," Ridge said. "He does know this will take most of the day, right?"

Emma smirked. "If not, he'll find out quickly. This is one of the largest forfeitures I've worked on, and I'll be damned if I do a rush job because The Fourth is in a snit." She smiled apologetically at Ridge. "Sorry. I'm sure you'd rather be doing anything else than asset forfeiture."

"I'd choose this over prisoner transport," Ridge quipped. "I'm totally cool if you want to drag your feet to draw out The Fourth's suffering."

She held out her fist, and he bumped it.

Emma hadn't been exaggerating when she declared it would take all day. Their last stop for the day was the Burkhart estate where Ridge was reminded of two crucial things: the con man had more money than sense, and there was no trace of Kendall anywhere in the house. The realization had left him feeling as cold and hollow as a forgotten log in a forest. Is that how Kendall felt in his own mother's home? Forgotten and unseen? It wasn't fair of Ridge to make assumptions, but he drew a direct correlation between Kendall's ridiculous notion he was bad at love and the erasure of his presence at the Burkhart residence.

While the lack of photos provided Ridge with plausible deniability, it made him deeply sad and weighed heavily on his mind as he drove back to the field office to retrieve the keys for his SUV. His fellow marshals were assholes, but they weren't psychopaths who'd force him to drive the pink monstrosity for more than one day.

In the dark hours before dawn, Ridge and Kendall had agreed to continue their living arrangement as roommates only. He'd held Kendall tightly against his chest and kissed him long and deep before easing from his bed and walking away. In light of everything he'd discovered, Ridge couldn't be just another person who'd erased Kendall from the picture. He needed the man to know he was seen, wanted, and cherished—all emotions so fucking foreign to Ridge they stole his breath. He smiled to himself as he headed out to retrieve his vehicle. No, Ridge hadn't accounted for Kendall Blakemore in his grand scheme, but he was damned grateful for waylaid plans.

Ridge hit the fob to unlock the door and did something else completely uncharacteristic of him: he swung by the grocery store to buy a bouquet from the floral department. He'd only purchased flowers for his mother and sister before and wasn't sure what Kendall would like. A bouquet of pink, yellow, and orange blooms caught his eye. He had no idea what the flowers were called, but they reminded him of a glorious sunrise over his beloved mountains and of Kendall's smile. Standing in the middle of the supermarket, Ridge imagined the warmth of both things. He closed his eyes and felt the phantom sun on his face, and joy swelled in his heart, chasing away the chill and filling the hollowness he'd felt at the Burkhart estate. Ridge snatched up the bouquet and paid for it before he could talk himself out of the gesture.

Kendall was dancing in the kitchen once more when he arrived home, and Ridge took a few moments to observe his grace. How could anyone want to erase this beautiful man from existence? How was it no one had cared about his happiness until now? The realization hit him with the intensity of getting clubbed in the head. Ridge felt a little woozy but couldn't deny it was true. He cared. He cared a fucking lot.

When Kendall turned from the stove and spotted the blooms, a radiant smile lit up his face. Ridge didn't need to ask what would make him happy because he was witnessing it firsthand.