Chapter 5 Ridge
FIVE
Ridge
I stand by the door and watch Coco hold her ground, arms crossed, chin lifted. She’s sizing me up, tracking the room, already testing limits I haven’t set.
Her gaze flicks to the window, then the door, then back to me. She’s calculating, looking for something she can use.
There won’t be, but I don’t stop her from trying. Gives her something to do.
My phone vibrates in my hand. I glance down at the name and swear under my breath. It’s Rocco Delane, one of our long-time port partners.
“Talk to me, Rocco,” I say, stepping a few feet away from the bed as I take the call.
His voice crackles through the line apprehensively. “Ridge. I heard about your father. I’m sorry for your loss, but we’ve got a problem.”
“No,” I say flatly. “What you’ve got is bad timing.”
A moment of silence before he continues more carefully. “People are nervous, and clearances are slowing down. Everyone’s waiting to see what happens next.”
There it is.
“Nothing happens next,” I say. “Things run exactly the way they did yesterday. Same terms. Same expectations.”
“That’s easy to say,” Rocco replies. “Harder to sell when everyone’s watching to see if Stone Intermodal is able to keep going like it always has without Robert.”
My jaw tightens. “Then you tell them I do.”
Silence stretches. He doesn’t argue, which tells me everything.
“Let’s meet in person,” I continue. “Let’s put this to rest.”
“Tonight?”
“Now,” I say. “Now,” I say. “I can meet you at the dock office in forty-five minutes.”
“Alright. I’ll be there.”
I end the call without another word and slip the phone back into my pocket.
When I turn, Coco’s watching me, sharp-eyed and silent, already cataloging what just mattered enough to pull me away.
I pause just long enough to meet her gaze.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” I say. “You’re staying here.”
Her eyes narrow, defiance flashing brightly, but she keeps her mouth shut. She probably thinks she can use this to her advantage, but little does she know she won’t be alone.
“I’m not leaving you in here with nothing,” I add.
She raises an eyebrow, her mouth curving into a mockingly sweet smile.
“Or,” she says, “how about an iPad?”
A laugh almost slips out. Almost.
“Nice try,” I say. “You think I’m handing you a screen? Be serious.”
She leans into it, full pout this time. Wide eyes. Bottom lip pushed out just enough to make it a performance.
I watch it without reacting.
“Listen,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I’m offering you a way to pass the time. You can take it, or you can sit in here with nothing. Your call.”
She huffs, plants a hand on her hip. The pout fades when she realizes it isn’t working.
Silence stretches.
“Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll take the cards.”
I nod once. “Good. Stay put. I’ll get them.”
I close the door behind me and listen for the click of the lock. When I return, cards in hand, she’s still sitting exactly where I left her, perched on the edge of the bed, but now she has her hands in her lap.
She glances up as I step inside. Her eyes are wary but steady. At least she’s keeping herself in check now. Maybe the fight in her isn’t as endless as it seemed.
I toss her the deck, watching as it lands perfectly in her lap. Her fingers close around the red and white box, and she studies it as if it were a lifeline. I file it away. Cooperation can be temporary.
I hear the three deliberate taps at the front door. It’s the signal I’d told Gabe to use when he arrived. He’s as punctual as ever.
Gabe’s not the kind of guy who wastes time. His greatest strength is finding a needle in a haystack, a skill he honed in the SEALs. But he’s also built like a tank, even with his prosthetic leg, which makes people think twice.
I lock the bedroom door behind me, leaving Coco secured inside, and head to the entryway.
Gabe Sellman stands there, tall and solid, a figure you don’t ignore. Years in special ops gave him a presence that speaks before he does.
He’s Reeves’s best friend and practically family. He’s the only person I’d trust for this kind of job. Gabe’s loyalty is fierce. If anyone can handle this, it’s him. If anyone can manage her, it’s him.
“Sellman,” I greet him, extending my left fist for a bump since my right is out of commission.
“Ridge.” He taps my fist then rests his hand on my shoulder, just long enough to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad. Reeves wanted me to be here.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate you coming to do this,” I nod. That’s all that needs to be said.
He walks in, and his limp is almost imperceptible. If I didn’t know he had a prosthetic leg, I wouldn’t notice. Lost it in a roadside bomb in Kuwait.
“What do you want me to do?” He asks. “You know I'm here for you in any way.”
I glance toward the hallway that leads to Coco’s room. “I need you to keep an eye on her while I’m out. Check in on her every so often. She stays in the room and gets water, food, and whatever she needs to stay moderately comfortable. But she does not leave.”
Gabe nods, focused. “How cooperative is she?”
I let out a short breath. “She’s smart, and she’s a firecracker. She’ll look for any crack you give her, so don’t underestimate her.”
“Got it.”
“She isn’t restrained right now, but I keep the room locked,” I add. “If she tries something, that changes. You secure the situation if you have to.”
Gabe’s eyes flicker with understanding. He’s done this before. “Comfortable but controlled.”
“Exactly.” I pause, then meet his gaze. “And don’t start thinking with your dick just because she’s hot. I’m telling you. She’s cunning.”
He nods once. “Anything else I should know?”
“I don’t want her hurt,” I say flatly. “But that doesn’t mean she gets an inch. Know what I mean?”
Gabe nods again, his expression unreadable. “Status quo unless she gives me hell. I have your permission to respond accordingly if she acts out?”
“Ten-four.” I pause, making sure he catches the seriousness in my tone. “She’s leverage, not a prisoner to punish. Use judgment.”
He meets my gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. “I’ll keep her safe. You can count on that.”
“Good,” I nod, relieved to know I can trust his intuition and ability to handle the situation. I’m not sure I could say the same about many people. “And if anything goes wrong, anything at all, you call me immediately. I don’t care how small it seems. She’s how we are getting to Laurent Boudreaux.”
Gabe’s jaw tightens, and he gives a slight nod confirming his commitment. “I’ve got this, Ridge. No one’s getting near her, and she’s not getting anywhere.”
“Appreciate it,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll be gone for a few hours. Keep the ship afloat.”
“Will do.”
I step outside to my Aston Martin DBS Superleggera, gleaming under the faint morning light. Jet black. Clean lines. Built low and precise, engineered with intent instead of excess. It doesn’t announce itself because it doesn’t need to.
It’s more than a car. It’s control, rendered in steel and glass.
I run a hand along the door before checking the weight at my waistband. Habit, not theater. I carry because people in import and export have a way of mistaking grief for weakness, and I won’t give anyone that opening.
I slide into the driver’s seat and secure it out of sight. Close enough if I need it. Out of the way if I don’t.
The leather settles around me as I start the engine. The hum is low and even, controlled. Nothing rushed. Nothing wasted.
Before I pull out, I tap the screen on the console.
“Clara.”
She answers on the second ring. “Morning, Ridge.”
“How are things holding?” I ask.
“Stable,” she says without hesitation. “The overnight schedules are confirmed. Two delays at the west terminal, weather-related, have already been rerouted. Nothing escalated.”
“Any calls I need to take?”
“Not yet. I pushed everything nonessential to tomorrow. I’ll flag you if that changes.”
“Good,” I say. “Keep it moving.”
“Always,” she replies, already a step ahead.
The line disconnects.
I pull out into the street, the city sliding past as the sky lightens. Whatever else is unfolding beneath the surface, the ports are running. The lanes are open. The work is getting done.
The phone buzzes again, sharper this time, breaking the rhythm. I press a button on the console.
Vin’s voice comes through the speakers, tight and urgent.
“Ridge, things are going south. Fast.”
"I'm on my way back into the city now. I’m meeting Roco at the dock office.”
"Good. Are you ready for me to give you the details? Or do you want to wait until you get here, and we can go through it? I’ll meet you there.”
I grit my teeth. “Give me the abridged version.”
“Luc got picked up last night after a bar fight. He’s sitting in county, and that’s a problem. He’s our continuity point at the docks. When Luc doesn’t show, processes stall.”
“Surely we have a backup.”
“It’s a verification step tied to his sign-off. When Luc gives the green light, things move. When he doesn’t, everyone starts asking why.”
“Goddammit,” I bark and hit the steering wheel.
“On top of that, Luc is the only one they trust to give the clearance. With him out of play, we’ve got two fires to put out.
Word’s already spreading about Robert’s death, and now everyone’s go-to guy is missing.
You need to be there to make sure no one panics or starts thinking we can’t handle business anymore. ”
I let out a slow, controlled breath. Of course. My father would’ve taken care of this in a heartbeat, probably without a single wrinkle, but this one’s on me.
I don't think any of my brothers are ready to take the lead. Not yet.
I was already planning to meet with them, but now I have to deal with Luc being out for God knows how long and figure out how to get the verification phrase without it ending up on a recorded line.
“So no one else can sign off for approval?” I ask, already knowing the answer but hoping Vin has some kind of workaround.