Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  I’d love to blow your mind another way…

  “Think you could have those to me tonight?” she continues. “The submission date is only a couple weeks away.”

  “Yeah. In fact…” I turn back to my laptop, save the document, then email it to her. “Now you have them.”

  She giggles, glancing down at her pretty, pink-polished toes, set off by the little tan sandals she’s wearing. “That was fast. Thank you.”

  I nod and smile, unable to stop looking at her. She’s so beautiful, it hurts.

  “Listen…” Stella glances around. “This is going to sound a little weird, probably, but do you want to grab a drink?”

  Holy shit. Is she asking me out?

  “Maybe I could tell you a little more about the contest and what it could mean if you win,” she hastens to add, her cheeks turning pink. “We could talk more about your writing. If you want.”

  If Stella Smythe said she wanted to discuss the mucus-y pus that makes up insect bodies, I would say yes.

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here,” I tell her, and catch a smile as I turn around to pack up my things.

  There’s a little dive bar she likes called Nose Dive near downtown. I offer to drive. Having her in my passenger seat makes it feel more like us hanging out, rather than a teacher-student relationship. Which is good. It makes my nonstop desire to kiss her feel less wrong.

  It’s dark by the time we arrive. As we walk in, I automatically place my hand on her lower back before I realize I probably shouldn’t do that. It’s what I would do with a girl on a date—even though it’s been a while since I’ve been on one of those. Stella doesn’t seem to mind, though. She smiles up at me over her shoulder.

  We find a small, round high-top table near the back. A server comes to take our drink orders. I order the house ale while Stella goes for a crisp Moscow Mule.

  The table demands coziness, and our knees brush under the table as we talk about the contest. There’s a little prize money involved, but there’s also a conference with a couple of literary agents too. The publication itself is available in both print and online, and the website gets over a million hits a month.

  “Wow.” I shake my head, sipping my beer. “I never really thought about being a writer. And by ‘never really,’ I mean never.”

  “Some people sort of stumble into it,” Stella says, lifting a slender shoulder. “But if you’re talented, you’re talented. No denying that.”

  “Have you ever been published?” I ask.

  “A few times. Some poetry, a couple short stories.”

  “I’d love to read your work,” I tell her.

  She blushes a little. “You would?”

  “Absolutely.” I’m not bullshitting her, either—I really do want to read it. I want to learn something about her and how her mind works. “Where can I find it?”

  Stella chuckles. “I’m sure my mother has a few dozen copies of it all somewhere. I’ll grab you some.”

  “Please do.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy I’m interested in want to read my work before,” she says, then gasps, covering her mouth.

  I lift an eyebrow. Things just got very interesting.

  “I—I shouldn’t have said that,” she says behind her fingers, her voice muffled. “I forgot where I was for a second. Oh god. This was a bad idea. What was I thinking?” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a few crumpled bills. Her hand is trembling.

  I reach out and lightly grasp her wrist. “Hold on for one second. Please.”

  She swallows and stills but doesn’t meet my gaze.

  “Look at me, please…Stella.”

  Slowly, she does.

  Carefully, I slide my fingers lightly over her wrist and then intertwine our fingers. At the same time I lean closer to her.

  “You’re my teacher,” I murmur. “And I’m your student. At school. In class. But we’re not at school and we’re not in class right now. I’m just Aidan, and you’re just Stella. And, Stella?”

  Her throat moves as she swallows. “Yes?”

  “I’m interested in you too.” I stroke my thumb over the back of her hand. “In fact, I’m crazy about you.”

  Her lashes flutter a little. “Aidan…”

  I trail my fingers up her other arm, over her shoulder, and up the side of her neck. I skim them along her delicate jaw to her chin, then beckon her closer.

  “Aidan,” she says again, but it’s a whispered breath that dissipates the second my lips touch hers.

  Her lips are soft satin under mine, sweet and chilled from her drink. I keep our kisses slow, gradually deepening them. In a matter of seconds I forget we’re in public, but we’re in a shadowy corner all to ourselves anyway.

  Her mouth tastes like sweet, spicy ginger beer as she opens wider for me. I tease her tongue with mine until they slide together and massage each other as if we have all the time in the world.

  Embers of desire unfurl in my chest and my belly, reaching lower until my cock stirs. We part for air, both of us breathless.

  “Shit,” I murmur. “What’re you doing to me, Stella?”

  She grazes my face lightly with her fingers. Her touch has the power to heal me, to change me, to make me into more than the man I am currently. It’s a touch that’s equal parts beautiful and terrifying, but I know I can trust her.

  Before she can reply, footsteps approach the table, and I look up. Then I do a double take, my heart sinking.

  Eric walks toward us with a few guys I recognize from the crew. His brows are raised and there’s a little smirk on his face as he reaches the table.

  “Thought that was you,” he says to me. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, college boy.”

  Fuck!

  Stella shifts her suddenly guarded gaze to me but says nothing.

  I slide off the stool and approach Eric, leading him away a few feet. “I’m busy. What’s up?” My tone is more clipped than I intended, but the alarmed adrenaline coursing through me roughens my words.

  “She’s sexy,” Eric says, casting a sly glance toward Stella.

  “And she’s mine,” I snap, stepping into his line of sight. “What, man? We don’t have a run tonight. I’m allowed to have a life.”

  “Sure you are.” He tilts his head, studying me appraisingly. “How come you’re all on edge and shit, college boy? I just came to say hi.”

  “Did you? This place doesn’t seem like your speed.”

  “Oh? And what’s my speed?”

  “I don’t know. A place like Triple 6, maybe?” Triple 6 is one of the seediest places in town. Last year there was a huge shootout—one of the vice detectives was undercover at the time. Interestingly, that’s far from the craziest thing that’s ever happened there.

  Eric lifts his brows. “You trying to tell me I’m not good enough for this place?”

  I fold my arms. I’m telling you that you only came here because of me. “What do you want, Eric?”

  “Just came to see if you wanted to work tonight,” he says, tilting his head. “An extra stack this week. Buy your pretty lady something nice.”

  I shake my head. “I need a night off too. Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”

  He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” His icy blue eyes bore into mine with all the heat of a laser beam. “Catch you around, Joe.”

  He lifts his hand toward Stella in a friendly wave. Only I can see the malevolence simmering under the surface as he walks off.

  Fuck. I’m fucked.

  And on the tail end of that thought, I’ve got to get her out of here.

  I can’t explain why seeing Eric here has my gut in knots suddenly. I’ve always had pretty good instincts, but training with the cops has heightened them over the past couple of months. Am I paranoid? Possibly. But I’d rather be paranoid and overreacting than put Stella in danger.

  Any more than she’s already in, hanging out with me.

  I don’t move from where I’m standing until Eric and his pals ar
e out of the bar and swaggering across the street. Then I turn around to find Stella still sitting silently, watching me.

  I reach into my pocket, pull out a wad of cash, and peel off a fifty. I’m pretty sure our tab is less than thirty bucks, but our server’s getting a nice, fat tip tonight.

  “We gotta go,” I tell her, folding the rest of my money into my pocket. I glance up at her, noting the expression of confused alarm on her face. “Now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she says, folding her arms, “until you tell me what’s going on.” She pauses. “Joe.”

  I sigh. I was hoping she didn’t hear that. “Look, I’ll explain as much as I can, but we have to get out of here. Those guys—they’re bad news. I need to get you away from here. Away from me.”

  “Explain as much as you can?” she repeats, a frown creasing her brow. “What the hell, Aidan? If that is your real name.”

  I gently cup her face in my hands. “I swear to you, that’s my real name. It’s a long story, but, please, Stella. You have to trust me on this one. Please.”

  Her green eyes search mine intently for a long moment until she relents. “Okay.”

  I take her hand and lead her out the door, scanning the surroundings as I lead her quickly across the street to my car. I check the interior to make sure there aren’t any surprises, lock the doors, and start up the car.

  “So,” Stella says lightly. “Who are you, Aidan?”

  I draw a deep breath. “I’m who you know me to be.”

  “Really? Then why did that extra shady-looking guy call you Joe?”

  “Because that’s the name I gave him.”

  “Why?”

  I check the rearview mirror, making a left turn onto one of the main downtown streets. “Because I didn’t want him to know my real name.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the work I’m doing with him is extremely dangerous. And I need…” I trail off, staring into the blaring red bulb of the traffic light. To protect my cover. The light turns green and I weave through a few cars to pass them.

  Fuck. I can’t say that. Gunner would kill me.

  But he might also understand.

  “You need what?” Stella whispers.

  “I need to—” I break off, something in the rearview mirror catching my attention.

  “Aidan,” Stella says. “What is it?”

  I clench my jaw, shifting my gaze back to the road. “Scoot down in your seat for me, okay?”

  She complies. “Why am I doing this?"

  The note of fear in her voice strikes me right in the chest, but I have to be honest with her.

  “Because we’re being followed.”

  5

  Stella

  My blood turns to ice at his words.

  “Followed?” I squeak, hunkering down in my seat. “Why would someone be following us? The guys from the bar?”

  “Yeah,” Aidan says in a terse voice, his jaw muscles flexing as he glances between the road and the rearview mirror. “Look, Stella, I need you to trust me. Think you can do that?”

  I stare out the windshield, my mouth open. The evening has taken so many turns, I don’t know up from down anymore. I asked out my student. I told my student I’m attracted to him. We shared some serious kisses that had my toes curling. Then…three really rough- and tough-looking guys walked into my favorite bar, called Aidan by a different name, and the tension in the air was so thick, you could spread it on a baguette. And now, we’re being followed.

  I’m supposed to trust him?

  But you do.

  A quiet, cool, calm voice in my mind. I don’t know if it’s a voice of reason or not, because right now, that sounds like crazy talk.

  At the same time…

  I do trust him.

  My gut tells me I can. Even though the circumstances are screaming the exact opposite of that. Even though my brain wants me to tell him to pull over and let me out. Even though I’m afraid.

  I do trust him.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “I can do that.”

  He flashes me a deeply grateful look. “Thank you. Now hold on.”

  I grab the oh-shit handle and close my eyes as he suddenly whips the car around a corner. From the blast of horns I hear, I’m assuming it wasn’t an entirely legal turn.

  “Don’t get pulled over,” I say through gritted teeth.

  There’s a heavy, wry note in his voice when he says, “Oh, I’m not worried about that.”

  My eyes pop open. I make a mental note to ask him about that later, when my body isn’t lurching from side to side.

  He takes a few more turns in this fashion, then spares me a glance. “Doing all right over there?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I reply. No. Not in the slightest.

  “Where do you live?”

  I hesitate. “I’m not sure I want to draw whoever’s chasing us to my house.”

  “I promise you, I’m going to lose them before then. But they might know where I live. So your place is safer.”

  I tell him my address and the neighborhood it’s in.

  He nods. “Yep. I know exactly where that’s at. Okay, hang on.”

  I spend the next twelve minutes with my eyes squeezed tightly shut, scrunched down in the seat, wondering if I’m going to die in a car accident or at the hands of the people following us.

  There are a few more sharp turns, and then the car screeches to a halt. When I open my eyes, we’re in my driveway.

  “Let’s get inside,” he says, already opening his door.

  I trot to the front door with him on my heels. My hands are shaking as I fumble with the key.

  “It’s okay,” he says softly. “Let me.”

  I let him take my keys and watch in a shocked daze as he opens the door and ushers me inside.

  “I’m going to pull my car into the garage,” he informs me.

  I just nod.

  A few minutes later, he walks inside as the sound of the automatic garage door thunders down. He walks from room to room, then triple-checks the locks. I’m still standing by the front door where he left me, stunned at the events of the night as my adrenaline wears off and distantly thankful for his decisiveness.

  Aidan heads back toward me, still by the front door, after checking the kitchen. He stops in front of me and runs a finger down my cheek.

  “It’s all right,” he murmurs. “It’s all over.”

  I stare up at him, not sure if I’m going to burst into hysterical laughter or tears. “I—can you hold me?”

  Immediately, he pulls me into his big, strong arms and wraps them tight around me. I lean against his chest and close my eyes, taking deep breaths.

  He rubs my back with sure, gentle hands. “Everything’s all right, Stella. You’re safe.”

  “What,” I say, “happened tonight?”

  He slowly draws back and looks me in the eyes. “What I’m about to tell you…is something I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone. I need you to understand—it could mean my life, in some circumstances.”

  “Your life?” I demand.

  He holds my hands in his. “Stella, I’m an undercover informant for the Ridge City PD.”

  I gape at him, speechless.

  “I’ve gone through most of the training the cops go through. My job is to get in with certain crowds when the cops get a tip about something, uncover intel, and report back so they can move in when the time is right.”

  “And—and those guys tonight…?”

  “Are part of a weapons dealing ring,” he finishes. “Guns. Big guns. Small guns. All illegal, all going for top dollar. I need to find out who’s behind it. But now, I’m afraid those guys tonight are onto me.”

  “How do you know that?” I demand.

  Aidan shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just do.” He gives me a little mirthless half smile. “Call it intuition, I guess.”

  “Well, that’s a big fucking problem,” I exclaim. “If they’re onto you, and they followed us tonight, that means they—the
y want you dead. Doesn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” he says, and shrugs. “I need to call my contact at the department, fill him in.”

  Suddenly, I can’t stop shaking. My teeth even chatter.

  “Jesus,” Aidan says, his brow dropping with concern. He pulls me close again. “Stella, are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. “No. Yes. No.”

  “Which way’s your room?” he asks tenderly. “You should lie down.”

  I point to the right.

  To my surprise, he lifts me off my feet easily and carries me into my bedroom, then gently lays me down before perching on the bed. He smiles down at me, brushing a lock of hair out of my eyes.

  “Try to get some rest,” he says. “No one’s coming. I checked all around the outside of the house. Inside’s secure. All the doors are locked, and I’ll put chairs under them to be sure.”

  “Do you…do you have a gun?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve got a record,” he says. “I can’t get a gun until they expunge it.” He’s still toying with my hair, twirling the long strands loosely around his fingers. The tingles shooting over my scalp have a delicious calming effect on me.

  “They can do that? Expunge your record?”

  “It was part of the deal,” he replies. “Join the Program as one of their recruits, and they’ll make all the shit from the past go away. Refuse them, and nothing changes.”

  “Is this worth that?”

  “If I can pull this off, yes, it’ll be worth it.” He chuckles lightly. “It better be, anyway.” He lets my hair flow through his fingers. “I’ll let you get some rest. I’ll be out in the living room if you need me.”

  I watch as he pushes away from the bed, as he stands, as he turns to walk away. At the last second, I grab his hand. He turns slowly to look down at me.

  “Stay,” I whisper. “Please.”

  It’s all I have to say.

  He nods, his eyes shining in the soft, dim light from the lamp on my nightstand. He stands a little way back, watching me watch him, as he slowly pulls his T-shirt over his head. Underneath is better than I ever imagined—eight hard squares of muscle that make up his solid abdomen, his strong, well-developed pecs. His hands drift down to his belt as he undoes his jeans, then pulls them off until he’s left in a pair of snug boxer briefs. So tight, they do nothing to hide the outline of his huge, stiff cock.