Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  My eyes widen as I read the message. I type my reply.

  I’ll be there.

  I have no idea what, exactly, I plan to do. My heart pounds and my palms are clammy. I reach for my phone and dial a number.

  A moment later, Tommy answers, sounding slightly out of breath. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Are—are you busy?” He sounds like he’s been working out.

  “Um,” he says. “Kind of, yeah. Training.”

  He’s mentioned that before—training. I assume he means for football, but something in my gut tells me that’s not it.

  Maybe he has a new girlfriend and didn’t want to say anything…

  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him these two weeks since we ran into each other at the hospital. We’ve gotten together a few times, but only to talk about Tyler. We’ve never discussed what happened over spring break. He hasn’t brought it up, and I’ve been too shy. What do I say, anyway? Hey, thinking about that kiss keeps me up at night? I can’t stop thinking about it…or you? It really sucks you never called me?

  But seeing his gorgeous face again and being near him brought back every tingling feeling I had over spring break with startling vividness.

  “What’s up? Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Um…” I planned to tell him about the party, but he seems busy. And he’s a fairly well-known face around campus, especially in the aftermath of what happened at his party. “No. I mean, yeah, everything’s okay. I just called to see what you were doing.”

  “Oh.” He sounds almost suspicious. “I should be done here in about an hour. I…have plans tonight, but do you want to get together tomorrow?”

  Of course he has plans. It’s a Friday night. “Tomorrow’s the vigil,” I say softly.

  It’s a nice gesture, the student body coming together for a candlelit vigil for Tyler. The thought of going makes my stomach turn, though.

  “I know,” Tommy replies, just as softly.

  “Let me think about it, okay?” I swallow. Tyler’s not gone. I have to believe he’ll come back. And going to a vigil makes it seem like he’s already dead.

  “Sure. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, and hang up.

  I stretch out on the sofa and stare at the ceiling until I doze off. At a quarter to eleven, I jerk awake, then change into an all-black outfit—black jeans, a plain, black, off-the-shoulder top, and sneakers. I don’t want to stand out or be seen easily in the darkness.

  I still have no idea what I’m going to do, but I’m not leaving that party until I have answers.

  Tommy

  Something was on Aggie’s mind, and heavy. I wish I could probe further, but there isn’t time.

  The past couple weeks, we’ve met up twice at the coffee shop near campus or the library to talk about Tyler. She’s been asking a lot of questions, and she flat-out told me she plans to find out who the drug dealer is. It was on the tip of my tongue at least a dozen times to tell her what I was doing but being in the Program demands discretion. I’m pretty sure Rhys and all of the Ridge City cops involved in the Program would kick my ass if I spilled the beans to the girl I want—especially when that girl is the sister of the victim.

  She’s as focused on her work as I am on mine, and I can’t wait for this to be over, because I’d love a real chance to get closer to her.

  Fucking timing.

  Standing over my kitchen table, I wolf down a sandwich I picked up on the way home from training with the cops. I barely have the time, because I need to get ready fast and get going.

  Tonight’s the night.

  They’re sending me in.

  There’s a house party tonight in an older neighborhood near campus. The houses are older, most in disrepair, which makes the rent low and attractive to college students or fresh grads. It also makes for unruly and occasionally outright illegal behavior.

  Which is why it’ll be really easy for me to score some dope there…and maybe figure out who the real dealer is.

  I wish I could say I displayed some serious investigative skills in finding out about this party, but one of my teammates asked if I wanted to go. The coach definitely does not like that kind of thing, but his influence on his players only goes so far.

  Personally, I’m turned off of house parties after mine. I almost feel traumatized by what happened at my house, but I have a job to do, so I agreed to go.

  Rhys was there tonight as they walked me through what I needed to do—buy some dope with the money they gave me, see if I can ID the seller, and get information about where they’re getting it from.

  “Do I get, like, a gun?” I asked him.

  “Hell, no.”

  “What if the other guy has one?” I demand.

  “He’s a drug dealer,” Rhys replied, folding his arms. “Of course he’ll have a gun.”

  “What the fuck, Rhys?”

  “You’ll be fine,” he said. “You’re a college jock, looking to score some gear. That’s it. He has no reason to shoot you. Don’t give him one.”

  Now, the half-eaten sandwich turns to stone in my gut. I’m nervous.

  I’m also exhilarated.

  I strip off my workout clothes, hop in the shower, and change into nice jeans and a plain black, soft cotton V-neck T-shirt.

  I meet my gaze in the mirror and take a deep breath.

  “Let’s do this,” I say.

  3

  Aggie

  My Uber driver drops me off across the street from the house. I can hear the music loud and clear, and the chattering, whooping voices of a hundred people float out toward me.

  “Have a good one,” the driver says, then takes off.

  “Sure,” I say to no one.

  I head across the street, folding my arms around myself. I get a few curious looks when I walk in, but no one says anything to me. They’re too drunk or high to care much.

  I step inside the dark house. Hip-hop music shakes the walls. I glance at my watch. A quarter to midnight.

  “Hey, sexy,” some drunk dude in a snapback says, leering at me. He holds the stereotypical red Solo cup, and his breath is deadly. “What’s your name? Let me get you a drink.”

  “No, thanks,” I say stiffly, pushing past him.

  He grabs my arm. “Come on. Don’t be a stuck-up bitch.”

  I yank my arm from his grasp. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” I own mace, but tonight I wore a small crossbody purse, and there’s no room inside it for anything more than my phone and a small wallet.

  I ignore his angry shouts and disappear into the crowd, my heart pounding. This is so not my scene—which is exactly why I need to be here. I’m going to find out who got my brother hooked on that shit and expose them if it’s the last thing I do.

  Ten minutes to midnight.

  I find the kitchen where a few people are hanging out. There’s food laid out but based on the state of the house and some of its guests, you couldn’t pay me to eat any of it.

  The kitchen has a back door that opens to the yard—and I see the edges of a small shed near the back. The patio light is bright and illuminates most of the space including the corner of the shed, but heavy shadows surround the rest of it from the thick copse of trees that borders the yard.

  And that’s where I have to go.

  Five minutes to midnight.

  I take a deep breath and walk out the sliding glass door.

  The wooden deck stairs are rickety, and I descend them with my heart in my throat. There are, to my slight relief, a number of people in the backyard, but none close to the shed. As I walk across the yard, I’m only mildly surprised when no one seems to notice or tries to stop me.

  Now that I’m in the yard, the little building is a lot farther away from the house than I thought. By the time I reach the corner that’s in the light, the music has dimmed.

  My nerves return.

  Midnight.

  “H-hello?” I say tentatively.

  For a long moment,
there’s silence. But it’s a heavy silence, one that tells me there’s another presence. Then, a deep voice.

  “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  I have no time to think or react or scream before a hand reaches out and yanks me into the shadows.

  Tommy

  What in the motherfucking hell is Augustina Russo doing at this party?

  I know that’s her, when I step inside the house. I recognize the dark hair, the curves, the beat-up Chucks. The profile of her face, so painfully beautiful it could make a man stop in his tracks to see it. I see her snapping at some drunk bastard, whose face I make a mental note to bash in later for grabbing her like that.

  I shove between bodies, trying to catch up with her and being stopped by too many people who know me and want to ask me questions about Tyler and the team. I do my best to politely tell them all to fuck off, but by the time I make it to the deck, she’s already halfway across the yard.

  Fuck.

  I know who I’m meeting behind that shed she’s walking toward—a likely dangerous drug dealer who doesn’t want to be seen. Does she know that’s who’s waiting back there?

  Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

  I take the deck stairs down two at a time, fully expecting the whole thing to collapse under my weight. But there are a lot of people back here too, and it’s the same shit—“How’s Tyler?” “So are you starting in the fall?” “Think you can handle it?” “Is Tyler going to die?” “Are you really taking steroids?”

  I ignore them all, pushing past them, and taking off across the yard. I don’t want to run and draw people’s attention and potentially blow the sting, but I walk fast.

  “Let go of me! Let g—mmfff!”

  “Aggie,” I yell, running the last couple of steps. “Aggie!”

  I hear a low male voice cursing, a body hitting the shed wall with a thump, and the sound of twigs and leaves snapping and rustling as whoever it is runs off into the trees. I snap the flashlight on my phone toward him but can only make out a dark jacket and ballcap.

  To hell with him for now.

  I swing my light toward the back of the shed. Aggie sits on the ground in a heap, her eyes wide like she’s in shock.

  I immediately pull her into my arms. “Are you all right? What the hell are you doing here, Aggie?”

  Her fists ball into my shirt. She’s shaking.

  I pull her closer.

  “I—I was supposed to be meeting with a-a source, I guess,” she mumbles. She leans her forehead against my chest. I run a hand soothingly over her hair, her back. I want to tell her I’ll never let anything happen to her, but then she tilts her head back and peers up at me.

  “What are you doing here, Tommy?”

  “Some guys from the team asked me to stop by,” I tell her casually. “It’s not really my scene. Just didn’t want to seem like a jerk for not showing my face. I was just going to make the rounds and leave when I saw you. This doesn’t seem like your scene at all. How’d you even meet a source who’d be here?”

  She shivers slightly. “Can we get out of here? I’ll tell you all about it, but I just…I feel like we’re being watched.”

  “Of course.” I keep my arm around her shoulders as we walk back toward the house. She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she leans into me a little.

  None of the guys on the patio pay us any attention as we walk by. Rather than mess with those shitty stairs again, we enter through the basement door to head upstairs. I can’t be sure because it’s fairly dark down here, but I’m pretty sure there are two people straight-up fucking on the couch against the wall.

  We head upstairs in silence as the sounds of the party grow louder and louder. The door to the basement deposits us on the other side of the kitchen. I drop my arm from Aggie’s shoulder and reach for her hand instead, pulling her behind me.

  Toby Watson, the same guy in the snapback cap I saw Aggie arguing with earlier, steps into my path. Well, more like sways. Toby’s wasted.

  He gestures behind me to Aggie. “Don’t waste your time, O’Brien. She’s a fucking little bitch who’s too good to talk to you.”

  I feel Aggie’s nails dig into my hand, feel her surge against my back like she’s going to take him on herself. I slide an arm around her again, bring her to my side.

  “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that,” I tell him coolly.

  Toby scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

  “Apologize to her right now,” I add. “And don’t ever let me see you touching her, looking in her direction, breathing around her.”

  “Eat a dick,” Toby sneers. “In fact, make her eat mine.” He laughs and grabs a handful of his crotch. “Go on, bitch, get down on your knees and—”

  It’s not fair, I know, but I use one of the maneuvers I’ve been learning to deftly drive my fist deep into his solar plexus, then grip his arms and shove him upright before he can tip forward. He lets out a long, low groan of pain.

  “A wise man once said, ‘Know when to shut the fuck up,’” I tell him quietly, giving him a sturdy pat on the arm. “And step aside.”

  I reach behind me for Aggie’s hand. Her eyes are a little wide as I pull her out the front door.

  “You’re fast,” she says finally as we step outside.

  “Yeah, well. I’ve been working out a lot.” I click the lock on my key fob, and my Dodge Charger beeps in return. “Do you have a ride?”

  She shakes her head. “I took an Uber here.”

  I turn to face her, my mouth open. “You mean you came here with no way to safely leave?”

  Her slender throat bobs as she swallows. She looks away. That’s my answer, I guess.

  I shake my head rapidly. “Aggie, what—”

  “Let’s get out of here,” she says urgently.

  I sigh, but we walk rapidly toward my car. I open the passenger door for her, and she meets my gaze briefly before slipping inside the car. I jog around to the other side, trying to quash my anger fueled by worry and concern.

  As soon as my door’s shut, I turn to face her and start in. “Something fucking awful could’ve happened to you,” I snap. “I know you want to know what’s going on, but, fuck, Aggie, at the cost of your wellbeing? Do you have any—”

  She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me toward her. A second later, her luscious lips are on mine.

  Everything I planned to say to her evaporates like steam as I bury my hands in her hair and kiss her back with everything I have. Her mouth opens and I slide my tongue inside to stroke hers. A shudder twangs through me when her teeth nibble my bottom lip.

  “Thank you,” she whispers when we part for air. “Thank you for being there. Thank you for watching out for me.”

  “I’d never let anything happen to you,” I murmur back, my head swimming.

  She places a light hand on my chest and pushes me back gently. “Seriously—let’s get out of here.”

  I clear my throat and drape my forearm over the wheel. “Where to?”

  Aggie glances at me from under her dark lashes. “Your place.”

  4

  Aggie

  I follow Tommy inside his small house fifteen minutes later, my lips still tingling from our spontaneous kiss and my body still quivering from my extremely fucking close call before that.

  Seeing him come out of nowhere in the nick of time to chase off the asshole behind the shed and then punching the drunk dickhead with the speed of light stirred something in me. I was grateful, and…turned on. Even though I knew he was pissed at my recklessness, I couldn’t help myself.

  I had to taste his lips. Had to convey my gratitude to him somehow, because words just weren’t adequate.

  “You keep a clean house,” I comment, glancing around. It’s pretty starkly furnished, a simple couch, coffee table, and a little table in the kitchenette, but it’s tidy.

  “I guess I’m kind of a neat freak,” Tommy replies, turning on a lamp. “Or at least I became one after the whole party incident. Don’t want to discove
r any random shit that doesn’t belong to me lying around. That can ruin your life.” He glances at me, teething his full bottom lip. I suppress another shudder. “Want something to drink?”

  “Just water.”

  “Coming up.”

  He disappears into the kitchen and I hear rummaging noises. He returns with two cold bottles of water. I wrench the top off mine and guzzle half of it in a single gulp.

  “Sit down,” he says, and we both take seats on the sofa, facing each other. He lifts a brow. “Now. Tell me what happened.”

  I sigh, then tell him everything. The fake profiles, the research, the messages. The invitation I got tonight, which led me to the party.

  Tommy shakes his head, running a hand through his medium-brown hair. “Wait. You’re telling me you posed as some dude and met with that guy anyway? When you’re clearly not a dude? How did you figure that one was going to turn out?”

  I lift a shoulder. “I figured he might be willing to talk to me if I let him know I knew what was up.”

  “What did he say?”

  I swallow. “He said, ‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’ then yanked me behind the shed. He grabbed my arms pretty hard but before he could do anything else, he heard you calling for me.” I ease down one of the short, off-the-shoulder sleeves of my snug top. Sure enough, even in the lamplight, I can already make out bruises.

  Tommy leans forward and runs his fingers over the bruises.

  I wince. “It’s tender.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Then he shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to be mad at you for being reckless or admire you for being brave as hell.”

  “That’s up to you, I guess,” I reply, and soothe my parched mouth and dry throat with the rest of my water.

  He studies me in the dim light. “I guess it’s hard to be mad at you after that kiss.”

  My cheeks heat. “About that. I was a little…overcome.”

  “I hope that’s not you saying you regret it.”