Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  And there’s more gunfire and shouting.

  Before I fully comprehend what’s happening, the body carrying me hits the ground and flips me around.

  “What,” I gasp.

  Aidan stares down at me, a deep furrow in his brow as he breathes harshly. “Are you all right?” He cups my head. “Stella—focus on my voice. Focus on my face. Are you all right?”

  I must look totally out of it, because even though I think I’m looking at him, I’m not seeing him until I force myself to. “Y-yeah,” I say faintly.

  We’re propped against a few large, hard plastic crates in a corner of the warehouse. Ahead of us is a door.

  “What happened?” I ask, my head still swimming. “Did you—did you shoot me?”

  “I would never,” he says, and spares a second to kiss me, briefly but tenderly. “I shot the ceiling to distract everyone. Then I elbowed Gray in the nose and took off running. But the cavalry’s here.”

  “The what?”

  He pulls down the collar of his T-shirt, stretching it so I can just make out a black wire taped between his pecs. “Gunner and his crew are here—they heard my signal and moved in, just in time.” He flicks a utility knife out of his pocket and saws through my bindings, plastic zip ties.

  “You still have the gun?” I say, flexing my wrists when they’re free.

  He picks it up. “Yeah. Listen—we need to move.”

  The sound of gunfire and shouting is still raging. “But they’ll kill us!”

  “They’ll try,” he says, “but we need to try too.” He points to the door, which is about twenty or so feet from our position. “On my signal, you’re going to run for that door. When you go through it, keep running no matter what. Don’t look back. Don’t wait for me. Just keep running until I tell you to stop. And if you don’t hear me…just keep running.”

  “Why wouldn’t I hear you?” I ask, but it’s a rhetorical question, and he knows it by the tears that gather in my eyes.

  “Deep breath,” he says soothingly. “On three. Ready?”

  I don’t have a choice. I nod.

  “Three.”

  I push up into a runner’s crouch, my heart racing wildly.

  “Two.”

  All my muscles tense, and my vision tunnels on the door. I’ve never been particularly athletic, but adrenaline courses through me now and lends strength and energy to my body. This is literally life or death, and I’m scared shitless.

  “One.”

  I launch myself forward from our hiding position and sprint for the door vaguely aware of Aidan moving behind me. The heavy bam-bam-bam of his gun terrifies me, but I do exactly as he said—I just keep running.

  I hit the door brutally hard but shoulder through it. The overcast day is as bright as a sun-drenched beach compared to the darkness of the warehouse, and my sensitive eyes screw closed reflexively.

  “Hey!” a voice yells.

  Keep running. Keep running.

  “Hey!”

  Keep running.

  “Get down!”

  Was that for me? I have no idea. I focus on the one task I was given—keep running.

  “Stella, down!”

  Before I can react to hearing my name, a heavy body slams into me and we both go down.

  Overhead, bullets fly.

  “We need to move.” Aidan’s harsh voice pierces my single-minded fog. He peers down at me, running a hand over my head. “Stella. You with me?”

  I blink and suck in air. We’re on the concrete behind a car. I feel like I just ran a mile, but when I peek around the car, I see I only covered maybe fifty yards. Squad cars are everywhere, and though the gunfire is still blasting, it’s much less than it was a little while ago.

  “They got it under control,” Aidan tells me with a little smile. “There’s an ambulance and a few more cops around the corner.”

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “All part of the plan.”

  Crouching, he helps me up, looking around. We stay low as we head to the end of the block and turn left, where, just as he said, an ambulance is parked as well as a police SUV and a couple of cruisers.

  One of the cops is a younger guy wearing street clothes with a bulletproof vest strapped over his hoodie. He waves us over, then, to my surprise, clasps hands with Aidan and pulls him into a big one-armed hug.

  “I’m proud of you, Aidan,” he says earnestly.

  Aidan’s face flushes a little. “Thanks.” He glances at me. “Gunner, this is my—this is Stella. Stella, this is Gunner Hansen. He’s with the undercover patrol unit.”

  “Hi,” I manage.

  Gunner gives me an understanding smile and nod. “Nice to meet you, Stella, though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.” Then his brow creases as he glances between us. “Either of you hurt?”

  “No, I’m good. Stella?” Aidan wraps an arm around my waist.

  “I’m—I’m…” Mentally fucked? Going to have nightmares for a minimum of fifteen years? “I’m not hurt. Not really.”

  “Let’s get you checked out quick anyway,” Gunner says, then glances at Aidan. “Then we’ll head to HQ so you can debrief with the captain, and Stella can give a statement.”

  The medics check me out, noting the scrapes and bruises from the kidnapping and hitting the ground just now. I don’t have any wounds serious enough to warrant more than a Band-Aid. Then we’re packed into an unmarked car driven by Gunner and taken to headquarters.

  I’ve driven past the RCPD building many times but always take for granted the fact that it has an inside. The lobby is actually pretty grand, with a marble tiled floor and columns. The elevators take us up to almost the top of the building. I’m almost disappointed when it looks like a regular office, with cubicles and desks spread around.

  “Come with me,” Gunner says to Aidan. “Stella, you’ll go with Officer Jacobsen.” He points to a uniformed woman a few feet away. She wears a kind smile and beckons to me.

  “See you in a little bit,” Aidan says, squeezing my hand.

  “See you,” I echo.

  Officer Jacobsen leads me to a small conference room and offers me a small bottle of water, which I take gratefully and drain in a single swallow. She gives me another, then we get down to business. I tell her everything that happened from the time the three men broke into my house to this very moment. She tells me what will happen next—that they’re suspects in a much larger federal case and I’ll be called to testify against them. The idea of that is frightening, but if it means they go away forever—hell yes, I’m game.

  The officer lets me stay in the conference room once our interview is over. I have no idea how long I’m in there, because I spend the time staring at the wall across from me, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time.

  After a while, there’s a gentle knock on the door, and Aidan pokes his head in. He smiles at me. “Hey.”

  I lurch out of my chair and rush into his arms. He folds me in tightly and for a long time, we say nothing, just holding each other and rocking gently.

  “You okay?” he murmurs after a while.

  “I’m…not sure,” I admit.

  He pulls back to gaze into my eyes, then lowers his mouth to mine for a long, exquisite moment. “How about now?”

  “Hmm.” I smile. “Yes. Definitely better.”

  “Good. Let’s get out of here.”

  We pick up a pizza on the way back to his apartment. My house is, apparently, considered a crime scene for the time being, but an officer will escort me there tomorrow to retrieve some personal things like clothes, toiletries, and my laptop while they’re processing the house.

  Aidan’s apartment is a single-bedroom unit. It’s definitely old, but he takes good care of it. It’s clean and the furniture is in great shape, if not new. It’s the apartment someone living on a tight budget has—tidy, small, nothing fancy, but practical and cozy.

  His living room has a couple of indulgences—a flat-screen TV on the wall, a
Blu-ray player, and a gaming console.

  “TV’s used, but it’s in good condition and the guy I bought it from cut me a great deal. I even have Netflix,” he jokes.

  “I think your place is perfect,” I tell him, and sink onto the couch.

  “It’s definitely more perfect with you in it.” He kisses me and hands me a paper plate with a piping hot slice on it. “Anything you need, just let me know.”

  I snuggle into him. “Just you.”

  “Oh, well, you’ve already got that.” He kisses my head.

  “Today was scary,” I murmur.

  “It was. But you were so brave.”

  “You were.” I sit up and look at him. “You should…you should be a cop. I mean, not that I want you doing something that puts you in danger every day, but you’re good at it. I mean, you got all those guys locked up. So many people will be safe now—because of you.”

  He smiles a little. “Funny, the captain said the same thing during my debrief.”

  “Did he clear your record?”

  Aidan nods. “And he offered me a slot in the next academy class that starts in the fall.”

  My jaw drops. “That’s amazing! What’d you say?”

  He takes my hand. “I said I’d think about it.” He traces my fingertips with his. “You went through a lot today. And it’s going to take some work to move past. I don’t want my job to traumatize you…because I want you in my life. And if it’s too much, I can find another job.”

  I’m stunned. He has a fresh start and discovered a new passion and talent—but will only move forward with it if I’m comfortable with it.

  “You have to take it if that’s what you want to do.” I cup his face in my hands. “Aidan, I’m not going anywhere.”

  He smiles wider. “You’re not?”

  “No. We almost died together, so you’re stuck with me now.”

  Aidan sets our plates on the coffee table and pulls me into his arms. “I know it’s sudden, but I have to tell you something, Stella.”

  I hold my breath, my heart suddenly racing. “Yes?”

  He gazes into my eyes. “You’ve had dirt all over your face since I pushed you to the ground.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “Uh, really?”

  “Yes. Oh, and one more thing…” He kisses me softly. “I’m in love with you.”

  I bite my lip, tears of joy pricking my eyes. “What a coincidence. Because I happen to be in love with you.”

  He pulls me so I straddle his lap. “Well. What do we do with a coincidence like that, Ms. Smythe?”

  I capture his lips with mine. “Let me show you, recruit.”

  Epilogue

  Aidan

  Three months later

  I look up as Stella rushes into the kitchen, where I’m enjoying an ice-cold beer and unpacking. We’ve been at it for three days now ever since we moved into our new house in the quiet suburbs of Ridge City, and Stella broke off to unpack her office, which used to be one of the three bedrooms in the small house.

  Her eyes are shining. “I have something to tell you.”

  I set down the bottle and smile. “Okay.”

  “Your essay was chosen for publication.”

  My eyes bug out. “Really?”

  In the aftermath of the shootout, I nearly forgot about my essay. I finished the last round of edits and then was so busy with testimony for the trial and starting the academy that I forgot all about it.

  “Yes. And not only that, it’s been nominated for a prize too.”

  “No shit!” I sweep her into my arms and spin her around. “All thanks to you.”

  “You wrote it!” she protests with a giggle.

  I stop spinning and kiss the tip of her nose. “But you saw something, and you believed in me. You didn’t judge me for being an ex-con. You saw past who I was, and you took a chance. Without you, this couldn’t have happened. So thank you.”

  Her cheeks are pink as she shrugs, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well.”

  Her modesty—at least as far as her accolades go—always makes me smile. “Way to go, Teach.”

  She smiles and rolls her eyes. “This is quite the feather in my cap, I suppose.”

  “Well, now that you’re here, want to give me a hand?” I ask.

  “Sure. What can I do?”

  I nod toward a narrow cabinet next to the microwave. “I stuck something in there, but it doesn’t go there. Can you grab it for me?”

  “Uh-huh.” She crosses the composite wood floor and pulls the white cabinet open. Then she freezes.

  “Problem?” I ask innocently.

  Stella reaches in and pulls out a small, round, carved wooden box I whittled and made myself. She turns around slowly, her hand out, the box resting on her palm.

  “What…”

  “Open it,” I say softly.

  With slightly shaking hands, she pops the lid, and one hand goes to her mouth.

  I walk over to her, take her hand, and kiss her knuckles, then slowly lower myself to one knee. “I know we haven’t known each other long, Stella, but you’ve changed my life in the short time you’ve been in it for the better. I never thought I could have all that I have—a new lease on life, and the love of my life. I never thought I was worthy of it. But you showed me otherwise. And almost dying together, well…” I trail off, grinning up at her. “It’s like you said. You’re stuck with me. So I thought, maybe we could make it official.”

  Her ring is modest, a singular cushion-cut diamond set into a sparkling platinum band. I got a substantial raise after starting the academy, and I’ll get another one once I graduate in a few months. I wished I could buy her a giant rock, but when I saw this ring, I knew it was perfect.

  “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes.”

  I rise and slip the ring on her finger. “I’m asking a lot of you, but I know you can handle it. You’re stronger than me. We can handle this together.”

  “Yes, we can,” Stella says, and melts into my arms.

  I owe her so much. So much she doesn’t even realize. And I will spend every moment I have making sure she knows just how grateful I am—for my new life, and most of all, for her.

  The End

  3 | COLIN

  1

  Colin Leary

  I’ve been called to the office a lot throughout my life. I was always a smart kid in school but was also the class clown—nothing was better than getting a collective laugh out of my class for one of my antics, even if it meant I got sent to the principal’s office as a result. That never changed, even throughout high school.

  In college, I got called to my professor’s offices, where they’d accused me of not applying myself. I thought that was just a made-up line on TV, but if I had a nickel for every time I heard, “You’re so smart, but you’re just not applying yourself,” I would’ve graduated without a penny of student loan debt.

  Now, my welding mask in one hand, getting ready to go back on the floor after a quick break, and my cell phone in the other, I sigh inwardly. Called to the office again. Some shit never changes.

  Only thing is, it’s not the factory manager’s call I’m taking.

  It’s my dad.

  And the office he wants me to meet him at? It’s at Ridge City Police Department headquarters, where he’s the captain of the undercover patrol department.

  Totally casual.

  “Fuck,” I groan. The request is to meet him when my shift ends in a couple of hours. This isn’t a request that can be ignored. He will track my ass down. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a warrant written for me too. Being a police captain’s son means exactly dick in my family. That was never made clearer than last year, when after a night of drinking, my buddy got pulled over. He was much less inebriated than I was—hey, it was my birthday, and turning twenty-six is a big deal to some people—so being the responsible friend he was, he drove my car for me.

  Little did I know until we were stopped on the side of the road that he had what turned out to be te
n grams of cocaine that he’d stashed under the driver’s seat when I was busy getting shitfaced.

  “Please, Colin,” he furtively whispered to me. “Please. You have a clean record. You’re a fucking police captain’s son. I’m a nobody. I can’t lose my fellowship. Please.”

  My drunk ass, overconfident it’d all be just fine because I was who I was, and my dad was who he was…said yes.

  Have you ever been bent over the hood of a cop car before? Ever felt the cold bite of handcuffs? Heard a voice loudly read your Miranda rights to you?

  That shit will sober you up like that.

  Needless to say, things did not work out in my favor. I was arrested. I was booked. My dad was notified. I got to sit in a small room with him and a couple of detectives who all knew that shit wasn’t mine, but I refused to give up my friend.

  I suppose my dad did use his influence to help me. Instead of getting ten years in a federal prison for intent to sell, the amount was relatively low enough that he worked something out with the judge presiding over the trial. I just got six months in county lockup.

  The police captain’s son, who didn’t grow up rich but definitely comfy, whose family is active and respected in the community, who attended a top school for business, became a convict.

  You can imagine how well that’s gone over in my family.

  So, despite having a bachelor’s in business and what I’m told is a brilliant, enterprising mind, I’m now a welder at a local factory who only hired me because they were desperate for help and I grew up learning how to be extremely handy. And I’m brilliant and enterprising.

  Whatever.

  I finish my shift and shower in the locker rooms, then change into jeans and a polo.

  I head to HQ to meet with my dad. It’s not the first time I’ve been here in recent months. He launched a super-secret, covert, intelligence-gathering program a few months ago and recruited me to be a part of it. He’s always wanted me to follow in his police footsteps. I considered it, once upon a time. Now, that’s out the window with my record. My record that truly doesn’t exist.