Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  Do they all know they’re here to view and make bids on human beings? Or do they think this really is a fundraising gala? Can every person in here be this fucking disgusting and crooked?

  Seeing women here equally astounds me. These are guests, not the “products,” and they’re acting as blithe and casual as anyone else.

  This can’t be real.

  True to his word, and I don’t know how he did it, Khalil got me an in with the head of security under a fake name. He told me what to say, how to say it, I did, and I got the job, no questions asked. I was told what time to show up and that I’d be paid at the end of the night.

  My job for the night is to make sure the entrance to the “showcase room,” a large set of double doors marked off with velvet ropes at the back of the room, stays closed until the “viewing party” begins. Just the thought of it turns my stomach.

  It’s going to make gathering intel a little tricky. At some point, I need to get upstairs to Mortenson’s office at the back of the mansion. If I’m going to find anything, it’ll be there.

  Across the room, a bright golden flash catches my eye, and my chest suddenly feels tight. I know I’m working, but…damn.

  A gorgeous, curvy blonde wearing the hell out of a short, black lace dress and holding a tray full of champagne flutes weaves her way in and out of the crowd, pausing to smile at guests and offer them a drink. She’s young, mid-twenties, and easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Her legs are long and thick, perfectly shaped, and the dress highlights her exquisite ass. Her eyes are encircled in something dark and smoky, her lips a glossy nude-pink.

  She catches my gaze and does a double take. It feels like time has slowed all the way down as we hold each other’s stare.

  Then the moment breaks as someone passes between us, into our line of sight. When he moves out of the way, she’s gone.

  2

  Sierra Thompson

  Stay focused. No distractions.

  I’m scolding myself as I walk swiftly toward the bar with my empty tray. Catching that dark-haired security guard’s eye back there momentarily knocked the wind out of me, which is saying something about how fucking gorgeous he is. I’m here for my older sister Lucy, who I haven’t seen in one year. My sister, my only sibling, who, up until a couple of weeks ago, I feared was dead. I’ve been waiting for this night, for my chance to rescue her, and I’m not letting anything or anyone get in my way, no matter how sexy he is. Besides, if he’s working here, for Mortenson, then he’s a piece of shit anyway and deserves to burn just like the rest of them.

  I welcome the fresh surge of rage as I reach the bar and set down my tray. The bartender, a slim and very miserable-looking guy named Ray, glances up at me. “Give me a second to open some fresh bottles.’

  “Take your time,” I tell him. “Actually, I have to run to the bathroom, anyway.”

  He squints at me. “You know we’re not allowed, right?”

  “I have to go,” I insist. “What am I supposed to do, piss myself in front of everyone?”

  Ray shrugs. “It’s your funeral.”

  I suppress a shudder. I don’t know what Ray knows about all of this or how much, but his words have an ominous echo of truth to them. If I get caught, it will be my funeral.

  But Lucy is worth the risk.

  I head toward the side of the room. There’s a short corridor just beyond this massive foyer that will take me upstairs, based on the intel I was given. It’s precious intel that should have cost me thousands—and that I was prepared to pay for. But my contact at Harbinger, a woman called El, only told me the following when I asked her to name her price: Take them down.

  If it kills me, I will.

  I slip up the stairs to an opulent and expansive second floor, trying to get my bearings. El—not sure if that’s short for Ellen or Eleanor or something, or an L-name—gave me the blueprints to this house, which I did my best to memorize since I couldn’t exactly bring them with me. If I’m right, then the room I need is a straight shot from where I’m standing to the other side of the house.

  I walk as casually as possible, prepared to offer a bullshit excuse if I encounter someone with them, but the upstairs area appears to be empty. When I reach the door I need, I try the handle—locked, as anticipated, but there is a digital keypad in the wall beside the door.

  My fingers hover over the keys as my heart pounds. If El is wrong, I’m likely dead. Swallowing hard, I push the keys, one at a time, my hand shaking.

  The LED light on the keypad flashes green, and the snapping noise that accompanies it tells me El was not wrong

  I ease open the door and glance around. Definitely an office, definitely where I need to go. My heart pounds harder as I focus on the computer at the back of the room, and the door slips from my fingers, swinging closed behind me.

  I steal over to the desk and ease into the chair. The computer is a sleek, hi-tech machine with three monitors. I’m not sure where to start, so I jiggle mouse. The screen lights up, and I’m prompted for a security key.

  I draw a deep breath and push up the long sleeve of my dress. On the inside of my forearm, I have all the security keys El gave me, in the order she said I’d be prompted to enter them. How she knows all this shit, I have no idea. But she hasn’t led me astray yet, so with a deep breath, I enter the first key. And it’s accepted.

  Down by my elbow, I have the path I need to get to the files I want. I make my way through the computer, nauseated with fear and adrenaline, heart beating fast as I enter the keys and click the path until I find the files. I pull out the small thumb drive I’ve been storing in my bra and stick it into the side of the monitor, then proceed to download everything.

  One of the documents is descriptions of every woman they are holding—height, weight, skin color, hair color, eye color, nationality, or ethnicity, if known—arranged in a spreadsheet. There are no names, only numbers as if they’re nothing but chattel.

  My sister is somewhere on this list.

  I don’t have time. I know this. I know I need to hurry the fuck up and go. The progress bar of the download to my thumb drive is at 100%.

  But my gaze finds an entry and lingers there.

  Item is five feet four inches. Blonde hair to waist. Curvy hourglass shape. Hazel eyes. Has a tattoo on the right wrist of a Chinese character (can be lasered off if buyer prefers).

  My throat tightens as I look down at the inside of my opposite wrist, where the Chinese characters for “little sister” are tattooed. Lucy has the corresponding characters that mean “older sister” on hers.

  It’s her. I just know it is.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The voice makes me jump with terror. I fling myself away from the computer, feeling like my life is about to end.

  The hot security guard from earlier stands in the doorway, staring at me in shock.

  “Wh—what are you doing here?” I demand, my voice shaking.

  He steps inside the room. “Making sure everything is all right. Are you fucking crazy? Do you know what will happen if they catch—”

  He stops talking, tilting his ear as if he can hear something. Before I can ask him what he hears, he sighs heavily, hangs his head, then strides toward me.

  I back up, holding my hands out. “What—”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to do this,” he breathes, one second before his mouth lands on mine.

  3

  Connor

  I pull the beautiful blonde I was ogling downstairs against my chest, cup her face, and kiss her. It’s pretty fucking crazy that fifteen minutes ago I was checking her out and now my lips are on hers, but someone’s coming down the hall, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t up here looking for the bathroom.

  At first, her body is taut against mine, and I’m afraid she’s going to beat the shit out of me. Then, she starts to relax against me, and her mouth opens underneath mine.

  Automatically, I slide my tongue inside, finding hers, and my mind goes blank a
s I’m lost in the taste of her, the feel of her against me.

  I don’t even know her name, and I think I just fell in love.

  “What the fuck is this?” a voice at the door demands.

  We both whirl toward the door. The security guard who hired me stands in the doorway. He’s got a gun in one hand, but it’s lowering to the floor. It’s clear from his annoyed expression that he can tell what we’re up to.

  “Sorry,” I say sheepishly, stepping away from the woman.

  “How the fuck did you get in here?” the guard demands.

  I shrug. “It was unlocked. We just wanted some . . . privacy.”

  “Then go get a fucking room,” he snarls. “This isn’t some hourly motel. I didn’t hire you for this shit.”

  “Sorry,” I reply.

  His gaze shifts to the woman. “You’re the cocktail waitress.”

  “Uh . . . yes,” she says.

  “Not any-fuckin’-more. Both of you are fired. Get the fuck out. You have two minutes, or I’ll let the boss know you were in here.” He clicks the safety on his gun, but it’s more for effect than anything. “And he won’t be nearly as nice as me.”

  “We’re going. Come on.” I grab her hand and pull her from the room.

  The guard follows us down the stairs and directs through a back hall to exit through the back door. Across from the small corridor we’re in, the double doors to the showroom are wide open, and guests are drifting in, still talking and laughing like they’re about to go to the theatre.

  Sick fucks. I shake my head.

  The woman becomes dead weight I’m tugging. I glance over my shoulder.

  She’s rooted in place, staring through the doors. I follow her glance. At the back of the showroom, women stand on lit pedestals in lingerie as the guests circle them. It’s disgusting, but I’m taken with the stricken look on the woman’s face.

  She says something that I think is “Lucy,” but I’m not sure.

  The guard shoves her. “Get moving, or else you’ll be in there with them. And I don’t mean serving cocktails.”

  A surge of protectiveness goes through me. My ass. “Come on,” I say to the woman again, tugging her hand.

  Outside, the guard stands in the doorway as we walk quickly down a long, winding path off the property. I risk a glance back, exhaling in relief when he goes back inside.

  “Fuck,” I exclaim. “What were you thinking, sneaking around like that?”

  There’s no answer.

  I turn to her, about to demand one, when I see the tears coursing down her face. In fact, she’s crying so hard she can’t walk straight.

  “Jesus,” I say softly, coming to a halt. “Hey. I’m sorry. Hey, look at me.”

  She won’t, though. She claps a hand to her mouth, shaking her head, crying silently as if she just found out a loved one died.

  Then it comes together.

  “You know someone in there, don’t you?” I ask.

  Finally, the woman looks up at me for a beat, huge brown eyes glossy with tears, and nods.

  “Were you, like . . . spying?”

  The woman pulls her hand from her face, draws a deep breath, and wipes the tears off her cheeks. “I was trying to when you came along.”

  I frown. “It’s a fucking good thing I did, too. Do you have any idea what that guy would’ve done to you? If I hadn’t been there, you’d probably be standing in that showroom in lingerie being ogled by people ready to pay top dollar!”

  “At least I’d be close to my sister!” she cried.

  Shit. Lucy.

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly.

  She sniffs and backs away a step. “Look, I appreciate the save in there. And you got fired because of me. If it’s all the same, I’m gonna go now.”

  “Where are you parked?” I ask. “I’ll walk you.”

  She eyes me dubiously. “That’s okay. I took a taxi here.”

  “Look, let me give you a ride home. It’s not safe to be out here alone.”

  She scoffs. “Thanks anyway. But I can manage. I don’t accept rides from strangers.”

  “But you accept kisses from strangers?”

  Her eyes flash with fury. “That was all you,” she snarls.

  “I don’t think you hated it,” I reply. “I definitely didn’t.”

  “Don’t be a creep,” she snaps. “Besides, I don’t know you. I’d rather take my chances.”

  “I’m Connor,” I tell her. “Connor Cavanaugh. I’m not a creep, I swear.”

  “Sure,” she says sarcastically. “You’re working for a bunch of traffickers, but you’re not a creep.”

  “I guess you could say I was here spying too.”

  She freezes, staring at me. “What did you say?”

  I hold up my car keys. “Let me give you a ride home.”

  “Well . . .”

  “What’s your name?” I press.

  She sighs. “It’s Sierra. And now, I have questions.”

  4

  Sierra

  I only let him drive me to the corner pizza shop from my apartment. My gut tells me I can trust Connor Cavanaugh, but I’m not ready to take any chances. Yet.

  Even though he did give you the most fantastic kiss you’ve ever had?

  I tell the sarcastic voice to shut up as we head inside. At this time of night, the pizza shop is winding down, but they’re still happy to serve us as we grab a booth near the back. We both order a slice and a beer.

  “So,” he says like we’re just hanging out. “Who goes first?”

  “You.” I lean toward him and pitch my voice low. The thumb drive in my bra digs into my skin. “Who are you, and what were you doing there, if you’re not working for them?”

  “I have . . . connections that are very interested in seeing them brought down. For good.”

  “Who are your connections?” I ask in a steely tone. “Who are you friends with that are connected to the Mortensons?”

  Connor looks down at the table. He drums his fingers, either thinking or stalling. Finally, he glances up at me. “Ridge City Police Department.”

  I stare at him, jaw slack. Before I can say anything, our server returns with our slices and our beers. By the time she’s left, I’ve regained my composure.

  “You’re a cop,” I say.

  “Not exactly.”

  “What, exactly?”

  He sighs. “I’m really not supposed to get into it. But just know we’re fighting on the same side. I think, anyway. What’s your story? One of those women is your sister?”

  I push my plate aside. I love this joint’s pizza, but suddenly, my appetite is gone. “Yeah. She was taken about a year ago. I never stopped looking for her, but I didn’t know if she was alive or not. Either way, I was determined to find her or her body. Then I met somebody online who does this kind of thing, investigates things, has a lot of sources and connections, and intelligence. They told me she was alive, who had her, and how to get to them.”

  Connor tilts his head. “Who gave you all that knowledge? Someone connected to the organization?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t know the person personally, just the group they’re part of. They’re sort of well-known on the underground journalism circuit if you know where to look and who to ask.”

  “Who?”

  “Harbinger,” I reply.

  To my surprise, he turns his head and smiles. “Yeah. I know Harbinger.”

  The way he says it makes me think he knows-knows Harbinger. “Wait, you know her?”

  “Her?” He shakes his head. “No. I don’t know a her.”

  “How many of them are there?” I murmur.

  “Maybe you weren’t talking to someone on the level,” he says.

  “No?” I yank my sleeve up and show him my forearm. “All of these are security codes she gave me. And all of them worked.”

  “Codes to what?”

  Now it’s my turn to hesitate.

  “I showed yo
u mine,” he says softly. “Now you show me yours.”

  I look into his eyes. They’re a bright blue, full of equal parts mischief and sadness. There’s more to Connor Cavanaugh than meets the eye, and my gut reminds me again that he’s trustworthy.

  Slowly I reach into the neck of my dress and into my bra. His brows raise slightly as I fish out the thumb drive and hold it up.

  “Everything I downloaded off that computer before you walked in,” I say quietly.

  His brows shoot higher. Then a panty-melting grin splits his face. He reaches into the breast pocket of his suit and produces a thumb drive similar to mine. “That’s why I showed up. You beat me to it.”

  I can’t help chuckling. “Well. We really are a pair.”

  We gaze at each other in silence for a moment, then he says, “Sorry about kissing you. I didn’t have the right. I was trying to think fast. I was a jerk.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t apologize. You probably saved both our asses. Besides . . .” I recall the kiss, slow and wet and hot and deep. It didn’t feel like acting to me. The memory of makes me tingle, right between the thighs. “I didn’t completely hate it.”

  One corner of his mouth curls up. “That’s good to know. I’d love to do it again.”

  I huff a laugh to cover up my blush. “Don’t hold your breath there, hotshot.”

  He grins and leans toward me. “So. How about it, Sierra? We join forces?” He extends his hand.

  I stare at it. I don’t know exactly what his story is or what he’s doing with RCPD, but it might not be bad to have someone on my side.

  Especially someone as sexy as Connor Cavanaugh.

  This is going to get me in trouble . . .

  Maybe. But it also gets me my sister back.

  I slip my hand into his, meeting his smoldering blue eyes across the table.

  “You got a deal.”

  5

  Connor

  Two weeks later