Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  It hurt me. It angered me. And then I realized this might be my chance to find out what’s really going on with him.

  It was hard to tail him at this hour, since there’s not a lot of traffic on the streets, but I managed it. I waited down the block about ten minutes after he pulled into this complex so I could follow him without getting caught.

  I walk hesitantly toward one of the buildings where I can see dim lighting—I’m pretty sure it’s the main building with the classrooms and stuff. After my brother graduated, he gave our family a tour once. I haven’t been back here since, but Khalil has been here every day for the past two weeks. But why now? Who in the world could he be meeting with at almost two thirty in the morning?

  I take a few steps closer, and then the building to the left of the one I’m looking at, a large, hangar-size bay where they do physical training and other exercises, suddenly explodes into flames.

  With a startled cry, I stumble back, even though I’m still hundreds of feet away.

  It’s almost like a bomb went off inside or something—flames boil out of the roof, burst out of the windows and the huge bay door.

  I fumble my phone out of my pocket and call 911. The operator takes my information, but I’m getting more and more panicked with each second.

  What if Khalil was in there? What if he’s in the other building, and that’s going to explode, too?

  “Miss, please stay on the line, okay?” the operator says, far too calmly for my liking. I hear the sound of typing in the background.

  “I can’t,” I tell her frantically. “My—my friend might be in danger!”

  “Do not go into a burning building, do you understand?”

  I can’t stand here another second. I end the call with the operator and take off running toward the educational building. I throw myself against the glass doors and grab for the handle. The doors are unlocked to my surprise, and I barrel inside…

  And find Khalil lying on the floor.

  “Khalil!” I crouch beside him. There’s a nasty bruise on his temple, but he’s conscious. His brow creases as he tries to open his eyes.

  “El?” he croaks. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I followed you. What are you doing here? Are you all right? What happened?” I help him sit up slowly, terrified he might have a concussion.

  “It’s a long story, but we gotta get out of here,” he says. “There’s this guy— Shit, Elodie, move!”

  But before I can, there’s a terrible pain in my scalp as someone grabs my hair. And then I feel something cold and hard and metal pressing to my temple.

  The guy grabs me and yanks me to my feet as Khalil staggers to his.

  “Let her go!” he shouts.

  The hands on me only grip me tighter. “No. I think we need to make this tragedy even more terrible, don’t you think? The star cadet caught wind of a fire and went to investigate, hoping to catch the arsonist and look like a hero. His lovely girlfriend tags along, and sadly, they both get caught in the flames and perish.”

  I edge a glance over my shoulder. I have no idea who this guy is, but his eyes shift wildly from side to side. He’s completely gone.

  The guy turns to me. “Sorry, babe. Looks like you picked the wrong place and time to be nosy.”

  Do something. Do it, now.

  I lift my foot and drive it down hard on top of his. The move catches him totally off guard, and he howls in pain, instinctively reaching for his foot.

  And letting me go.

  I spin out of his arms, just as Khalil tackles him. “Khalil!” I scream.

  The crazy guy still has the gun, and Khalil is wrestling him for control, all the while trying to keep it pointed away. It aims crazily everywhere—including at me.

  “Elodie, get outside!” Khalil yells. “Call for help!”

  I already did, and now I regret hanging up with the operator. I dash outside, and the sweet sounds of wailing sirens pierce the air.

  Two fire trucks pull up along with four squad cars and two plain cars. But a whole bunch of cops jump out. I fling my hands up in the air.

  A plainclothes cop runs over to me, his face drawn and tight. “What’s happening? Where’s Khalil?”

  How…?

  “He’s inside!” I shout. “He’s fighting some guy with a—”

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Three gunshots.

  “Khalil!” I scream, turning to run back inside.

  The cop grabs me around the waist and swings me away. “Run back toward the squad cars. Go, now!”

  With a terrified cry, I do what I’m told.

  A couple more officers pull me to safety, looking tense and focused on the building. Meanwhile, the firefighters are setting up water lines to knock out the fire, but I hope they’ve called for backup, because there’s no way two trucks will be enough.

  I pace behind the cars, crying and sick, wringing my hands. One cop comes to talk to me, trying to offer comfort and get my version of the events. I tell him what I know.

  “Is he okay?” I sob. “Is Khalil okay?”

  “We’ll know soon,” he says, then directs me back toward the ambulance that’s arrived, trailed by two more firetrucks.

  I don’t listen. I just keep pacing and staring at the building as a dozen cops disappear inside.

  A few moments later, they drag the lanky, weird guy out in cuffs.

  And then Khalil emerges—walking. Upright. Seemingly unharmed.

  The plainclothes cop is at his side, an arm around his shoulders, talking rapidly into his ear as they walk toward us.

  I cover my mouth, trying to keep my sobs at bay.

  Finally, the cop lifts an arm and points in my direction. Khalil says something quickly to him, then takes off running toward me.

  I sprint toward him.

  We crash into each other, and I jump into his arms.

  “You’re okay,” he says, relieved, holding me close.

  “You’re okay!” I cry. “Khalil, what happened?”

  “He tried to shoot me and missed,” Khalil replies. He sets me on my feet. “See? I’m fine.” His arms tighten around me.

  “What is all this?” I demand. “Why does that cop know you?”

  He sighs. “It’s over now, so I can tell you. I’ve been working undercover with the cops. They planted me here at the academy to find out who was behind the string of arsons lately. I met that guy, Ron, a couple weeks ago, and something didn’t sit well with me. I played along, acted like we were friends, and then he asked to meet me here. I didn’t know what he was planning, but…he’s never going to be able to do this shit again.”

  “So you’re a hero,” I say, tearing up and smiling.

  He makes a dismissive noise and shakes his head. “Nah, I wouldn’t go that far.” He stares at the building engulfed in flames, shaking his head. “I wasn’t fast enough to stop him.”

  “They’ll rebuild,” I insist. I lean up to kiss him. “And you are a hero. I just wish I’d known.”

  “It wasn’t easy keeping it from you,” he admits, stroking my cheek. “Apart from loving you, you’re the smartest person I know. I knew you knew something was off the day I told you.” He sighs. “I’m sorry for lying to you, Elodie. Please know, it wasn’t because I wanted to.”

  “I know.” I cup his face. “We have a lot of catching up to do. In a lot of ways.”

  Khalil smiles. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know—as soon as I debrief with the cops.” He hesitates. “Will you…will you wait for me?”

  “I love you,” I say simply. “I’ll wait forever for you.”

  He kisses me fiercely, long and hard, in front of everyone. “You’re amazing, Elodie Brechs, and I love you. So much. I won’t keep you waiting long.”

  “You better not,” I say softly, smiling.

  He kisses me again.

  My best friend. My hero.

  My love.

  Epilogue

  Khalil

  Two months later
/>
  It’s crazy how life turns out. You think you have it figured out one way, and then shit happens that completely turns you around and puts you on a whole new path.

  Today, I graduated from the fire academy. I’m going to be a firefighter. For real.

  News of the fire on the training grounds carefully excluded any mention of my name, or Elodie’s. The announcement went out to the academy class that our training had been postponed but not canceled while they repaired the big bay that served as our training facility. In that time, I quietly took and passed new versions of the exams I’d taken before—fair and square. Well, probably not totally fair and square, but without any advantage.

  And I asked the fire chief if I could stay on as a cadet.

  He was only too happy to let me.

  Ridge City is down one more asshole.

  Life…feels good.

  “Here you go.”

  I glance up as Elodie extends a plate full of barbecue chicken, baked beans, my grandmother’s greens, and El’s own homemade mac and cheese. Our families are over at my parents’ house, celebrating my achievement and meeting for the first time. Everyone seems to be getting along great, which is all I wanted. It’s important our families like each other, since I plan to be with Elodie forever.

  “Thank you, my love,” I say, tugging her down for a kiss.

  She grins and sits beside me with her own plate.

  For now, Harbinger is at rest. I feel comfortable letting the city’s other vigilantes have a go at revealing the true criminals. Besides, I know a group of guys who make it their mission to find and destroy all the assholes we used to report on.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket.

  Speaking of…

  “Excuse me, El,” I say, holding up my phone. “I have to take this.”

  She accepts my kiss with a smile. “Don’t be long.”

  “Never.”

  I walk away a few paces to find a corner of my parents’ backyard that offers a little privacy, back by the cherry blossom trees.

  “Hey, Ryan.”

  “Hey, Khalil,” says my buddy Ryan Walsh, who I’ve known since high school and talked to off and on over the years. “I got your message on Facebook. Wow, it’s been a long time, huh? How are you?”

  “I’ve been doing really good,” I tell him. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s kind of like a job, but…not really. It’s rewarding work, though. Hard. And…dangerous.” I pause. “I’d like to tell you more about it in person. Tomorrow. Are you interested?”

  There’s a long beat of silence. I haven’t given him much to go off of—enough to maybe pique his curiosity but protect the Program.

  Finally, he says slowly, quietly, “Yeah. I’m interested. Tell me more.”

  The End

  5 | RYAN

  1

  Ryan Walsh

  The throaty purr of my Harley-Davidson rumbles through the night as I pull up to Road Dog Saloon. I draw a deep breath through my nose, studying the exterior of the place.

  It’s Saturday night, so the place is packed, predictably. This is the most popular biker hangout in all of Ridge City, and police intel says it’s the favored bar of the Rogue Draconians, the gang I’ve been recruited to infiltrate.

  No sweat, right?

  For the past couple of months, I’ve been undergoing seriously rigorous training—physical training, non-lethal weapons training, surveillance training, you name it. It’s almost like I’m training to be a cop, but I’m just a Recruit…in their mysterious Program.

  My buddy Khalil contacted me about it a few months back, and I said yes. Even though he didn’t sugarcoat the danger. Even though I know it’s an unpaid position. But listening to him speak to me earnestly, I had a strong, sudden need to join…so I can atone for my sins.

  I sigh, unbuckling my helmet and swinging a leg off the bike. The Harley isn’t mine. It belongs to the Ridge City Police Department. I much prefer my Yamaha to this hog, but…I have to admit, it’s growing on me.

  I’m pretty sure I’ll fit in with the rest of these guys—I’m wearing dark jeans, riding boots, a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt with a white skull on the front. The jacket is my most treasured piece of clothing, but it also fills me with a deep sense of pain every time I put it on or look at it. There’s a huge scuff across the back of it, and it makes me remember…

  —hitting the pavement hard, rolling over and over but knowing the physical pain is nothing compared to what tears through me as I watch Ben slam into the guardrail—

  “Stop it,” I mutter, shaking my head. This is no time to get distracted. For all intents and purposes, I’m about to walk into the hornet’s nest.

  I draw another deep breath, then swagger through the door like I own the place.

  The heat of suspicious stares pricks me even through my thick leather, but I walk straight to the bar. A grizzled dude with a long gray braided beard raises a brow at me.

  “Hey,” I say, not knowing what else to say. “Can I get a Guinness?”

  A line forms between his brows as he looks at something over my shoulder briefly, but he nods. “One Guinness coming up.”

  I glance around as casually as possible. There’s a large table near the back, in a shadowy corner where a bunch of extremely scary-looking bikers are hanging out. One of them, a youngish guy, older than me, leans back in his chair, long legs extended. His black hair is longer on top and flops over his forehead a little, but I know from my research he has a gnarly scar across his forehead.

  It’s Tristan Black, leader of the Rogue Draconians, and he’s studying me intently, sipping his beer.

  “Here you go.” The bartender sets a pint of the dark brew in front of me.

  “Thanks.” I take a sip.

  “You know anybody here?” the bartender asks.

  I shrug. “You, I guess.”

  He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Word to the wise—drink up fast. This place ain’t exactly friendly to outsiders.”

  I flash a grin. “Then how am I supposed to make friends if nobody’s friendly?”

  “You don’t.”

  A new voice behind me—one that belongs to a woman.

  I turn my head slowly over my shoulder, and it’s all I can do not to spill my beer all over myself.

  A dangerous beauty, a dark angel, walks toward me from the table with the Draconians. Long, glossy black hair flows over her shoulders. Her snug dark purple tank top reveals generous cleavage and an intricate half sleeve, from shoulder to elbow. Based on the quality of the ink, I’d guess it cost several thousand dollars.

  The tank top ends in the waistband of fashionably ripped dark gray jeans that hug her luscious curves, and she’s only a few inches shorter than me, thanks to the high-heeled black boots she’s wearing. She stands close enough for me to see her cool gray eyes, draped with long, thick black lashes.

  “Excuse me?” I say.

  The vision tilts her head. “I said, you’re not here to make friends. Drink up and get gone.”

  “Last I checked, this was a free country,” I reply and set a twenty down. “And I’m a paying customer.”

  Her large gray eyes narrow as she folds her arms. “You must be new here.”

  I flash her a grin. “I am. So let’s get introduced. I’m Ryan. And you are?”

  A slender dark brow arches up. “Irritated.”

  “What a…lovely name.” Winding up a woman like this in a place like this with lots of eyes on us is probably a bad idea, but I can’t help it. “Is that short for something?”

  She puts her hands on her hips and steps closer. “I’m trying to save your life, dummy.”

  I tilt my head until our noses are just a few inches apart. “Have you ever heard the one about how you must be an angel, because I just died and went to heaven?”

  She has a fine, delicate nose, positioned above a pair of luscious pink lips. Those lips twitch a little at my cornball line, like she’s trying not to smile
.

  “So how about you tell me your real name?” I add, giving her a lazy grin.

  She opens her mouth, but before she can answer me, a hand drops onto her shoulder. I glance up.

  Tristan Black glowers at me.

  “Her name,” he says, “is ‘my little sister.’”

  Oh, shit.

  2

  Gemma Black

  Oh shit.

  I turn away from the sexy, smirking, cocky bastard to face my big brother.

  “He’s just pulling my chain,” I tell Tristan, pushing my hands lightly on his chest so he’ll back up. “He’s gonna finish his beer and get out of here.” I glance at Ryan over my shoulder, widening my eyes meaningfully. “Aren’t you?”

  He shrugs and takes another small sip of his beer. “I like it here.”

  “Gemma,” Tristan sighs, and gently pushes me aside. He steps up to the bar, facing Ryan. Ryan’s a tall guy, but Tristan has him beat by an inch. “Who are you, and what’re you doing here?”

  “Ryan,” he replies, offering his hand. “And you’re Tristan Black, right?”

  Tristan makes no move to shake his hand. “How do you know who I am?”

  “Who doesn’t know who you are?” Ryan says, shrugging. “I wanted to see if maybe you could use a bike mechanic.”

  It’s my turn to smirk as Tristan casts an amused glance over his shoulder at me. “Already got one, buddy, sorry.”

  Ryan’s green eyes shift to me and run over me slowly. I suppress a shiver. This idiot must have a death wish, but I’ll be damned if that cocky streak isn’t sexy as hell—like the rest of him. His sandy brown is longer on top, slightly wavy, with trimmed sides. There’s a little matching scruff on his jaw. He lightly teethes his bottom lip.

  “You?” he says, nodding to me.

  “You were expecting someone else?” I reply. It always amuses me when I meet biker dudes at my dad’s repair shop. No one expects the best bike mechanic in the city to be a woman. I’m only listed as “G. Black” on the company web site.