Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  Do I sound bitter?

  I am. I fucking am—at myself.

  He wanted me to start training in the Program with the idea that maybe I could contribute positively to the community somehow. I’m not sure how that works since the training I’ve been doing is nothing short of hand-to-hand combat, intelligence-gathering techniques, surveillance, defensive driving, and the like. The only thing I can’t legally do is carry a weapon and they can’t train us to do so. I grew up shooting guns, but the fact that I can’t own one now makes this prospective undercover work a little disconcerting.

  Weapons aside, I now know a dozen ways to incapacitate and probably kill someone without even breaking a sweat, so, I’m probably doing okay.

  I nod to the guard on my way in. Most people around here know me. That used to bring me pride, but now it’s kind of embarrassing, all things considered.

  As I take the elevator up to his floor, my mind whirls. A sinking feeling in my stomach tells me that my number in the Program has probably just been drawn, and I’m about to be drafted.

  I head to Dad’s office. An older man in a polo and slacks sits across from my father, and a tall, broad man leans against the wall as they all shoot the shit, waiting for me. I recognize the tall man with a jolt—Dominic Black, a former vice detective who recently got promoted to sergeant over narcotics. The other man, who’s closer to my dad’s age, I don’t recognize.

  They all look up as I walk in.

  “Son,” my dad says, standing up and holding a hand out toward me. “Gentlemen, this is my son Colin. Colin, this is Sergeant Dominic Black and Mr. Timothy Whisler, owner of Ridge City Country Club.”

  I shake hands with both, puzzled. What’s the owner of the country club doing here? “Nice to meet you all. So…what’s up?”

  “Got a job for you, Recruit,” Dominic says with a smile.

  And here we go.

  2

  Hendrix Whisler

  I swipe my pen across my notepad with gusto then lean back in my desk chair to stretch and moan loudly with relief.

  Managing a country club and planning its first-annual, members-appreciation gala in a little over two weeks has taken up the first six hours of my day without me even trying. I prefer being able to walk around the club, check on things, chat with the employees and the guests alike, but the event planning has me practically chained to my desk, which is my least favorite thing.

  I grew up here, at the Ridge City Country Club. My dad opened it thirty years ago after a wealthy relative left him gobs of money. Sometimes I feel I should’ve moved away, but this place feels like a home away from home.

  It also feels like a prison sometimes, too. What the hell even is a social life? Sometimes I forget I’m only twenty-five years old and that there’s life—and dating—outside these beautifully manicured grounds.

  “Dating,” I mutter, snorting softly. “Whatever that is.”

  The stretch isn’t quite enough, so I stand up this time. An enormous yawn almost splits my head open. I lift my arms overhead and lean back, then lean forward to touch my toes.

  There’s a knock, a cough, and a chuckle behind me. “Miss Whisler?”

  Oh, for God’s sake. I completely forgot my dad scheduled the club’s new maintenance guy to come fix the drywall in my office. And here I am, greeting him ass-first. In a dress.

  I whirl around, face on fire. The fire reaches incendiary levels when I see how goddamn sexy he is. “Call me Hendrix, please.”

  A sexy maintenance man—every woman’s fantasy that never seems to actually be real, but here he is.

  He’s not much older than me, maybe a year or two, but he’s tall and built, with broad shoulders, well-defined arms, and a narrow waist. His dark hair is short on the sides and a little longer and mussed on top. He wears a khaki country club uniform shirt, the short sleeves rolled around his biceps, and khaki pants with a giant utility belt.

  But it’s his twinkling green eyes and devil-may-care smile that make me weak in the knees.

  “I’m Colin,” he says. “Should I…come back?”

  “Nope,” I say brightly without smiling, willing my face to cool. “Now’s good. Sorry about—I was stretching.”

  He grins, teething his lower lip. “Please, do not apologize.”

  Oh, fuck.

  He gestures to a small hole in the wall by my desk. “That’s the spot, I assume?”

  “Yeah. I had a new desk delivered last week and the delivery guy had some depth perception issues.”

  Colin nods, kneeling to examine the hole. “Were you stretching then, too? I almost walked into a wall, myself.” He flashes me another panty-dampening smile. “I’m just kidding. I mean, I’m not, but, you know, I’m trying to not be a creep.”

  He’s outrageous. But it makes me smile anyway. “Not trying to be a creep? It must come naturally, then.”

  Chuckling, he takes out a small plastic jar filled with putty-looking stuff and a few tools. “Only when beautiful women who answer the door very uniquely are involved.”

  I could swear I’ve known this guy forever, based on our easy banter. “So you’re new here?”

  He nods without looking up, using what looks like an offset spatula to spackle putty onto the hole. “Yep. First day.”

  “What do you think so far? Of the club, not the job. I’m assuming you know what you’re doing.”

  “Either that, or I just put liquefied Play-Doh on your wall.” He smiles, and I notice the slight dimple in his cheek. “I actually haven’t had a chance to really look around the place. I’ve been pretty busy.”

  “Oh, well, you have to have The Tour,” I tell him. “It’s an onboarding requirement.”

  He arches a brow. “Is it?”

  “No, it isn’t. But I like to do it for new hires. This place can seem pretty large and it’s easy to get lost.” I glance at my watch. “I’m in meetings for the gala the rest of the afternoon starting in ten minutes, but would you like to meet me back here around five?”

  His emerald eyes lock onto mine. Is that my heart beating faster? “Yeah. I’d like that. That’s nice of you, Hendrix.”

  I swallow. My mouth is suddenly dry. I just smile and nod, then lean over my desk to grab a notepad and my cell. “No problem. I’ve got to run. See you in a few. And thanks for patching that hole.”

  “It’s my job.” He glances down, then back up. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear a shadow passed over his face, but that cute, cocky grin is back in place. “See you in a few hours. Maybe I’ll beat you here and be the one to greet you booty-first.”

  I can’t help chuckling. My initial humiliation has faded, though my cheeks are still warm. “I can hardly wait.”

  Colin

  Well, that was one small detail my dad, Dominic, and especially Mr. Whisler left out—that the general manager, who I didn’t know until I walked up to her office, was not only Mr. Whisler’s daughter but the most stunningly gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.

  Maybe five-five, with wavy, dark-golden brown shoulder-length hair and warm, pretty brown eyes, she and the dimple in her right cheek immediately pulled me in.

  Okay, fine. Catching her bent over at the waist with her magnificent round ass set off to perfection in her pretty, pale-green wrap dress, was pretty damn eye-catching too.

  I was a little surprised she asked to meet me back at her office for a tour, but I’m definitely not complaining. More facetime with a beautiful, funny woman? Hell yes. Even if she wasn’t the boss’s daughter, I’m sure fraternizing with the general manager would be a no-no, but she has this magnetism that immediately drew me in and made me feel as though I’ve known her my whole life.

  I count down the hours to when it’s time to meet her. I’m surprised at the number of actual tasks I have to do, but my dad and Dominic warned me that it would be a true cover. I’m on the payroll with the false credentials they gave me, but I’ll actually be getting a paycheck while I’m here. How they worked that out is beyond me, but all I
know is that the money will come to me on a pay card rather than direct deposit.

  That’s good, since I’m not working at my other, actual job at the moment, and need to earn money somehow. I’m not getting paid leave from my welding job, but they are holding it for me after my dad called to speak to my boss to tell him I’m on a “civic assignment.”

  Shortly before it’s time to meet Hendrix, I head to the locker room to put away my gear and wash up. I have a change of street clothes with me, since they gave me the uniform this morning.

  The locker room is one of the nicest ones I’ve ever been in. The lockers are made of wood—nice, heavy duty wood. The whole place is sparkling, which is really saying something for a men’s room. There’s a section of stalls and then a whole separate room of showers. Just beyond the showers, there are large, double-sided vanities with blow dryers, toiletries, and large magnified mirrors for shaving.

  As I’m scrubbing my hands at the sink, I hear two guys talking on the other side of the counter I’m at.

  “Can you believe Martin claims he got an eagle on the twelfth hole?” one of them scoffs.

  “He was lying or high,” the other guy says with a disdainful laugh.

  “He was cheating.” There’s a short pause. “And probably high.”

  I perk my ears up at the mention of “high.” Well, that didn’t take long.

  My “civic assignment” is to uncover the apparent drug ring here at the country club—apparently, the well-to-dos seem to like their blow. A lot. And someone here is making a killing off it.

  “Sure you want to shit where you eat, Dad?” I asked him when we met in his office. After years of wanting to become members, they finally joined a few months ago and seem to love it. He’s invited me golfing several times, but I never had the time before. The irony now isn’t lost on me.

  My dad exchanged a look with Mr. Whisler across the desk. “I started hearing rumors about it,” Mr. Whisler told me. “It broke my heart. The club just isn’t that kind of a place. I knew, of course, who your father is, and approached him about it in private.”

  “I’m not ready to make a big thing of it,” Dad said. “I want some hard intel first. And it’d look pretty damn questionable for me to start asking people about blow.”

  Understanding dawned on me then. “But your loser son who has a drug record…”

  “You’re not a loser,” my dad said quietly. “And this is your chance to prove it.”

  And so, here I am.

  Not as Colin Leary, son of James Leary, Ridge City PD captain. I’m here as Colin Smith, brand-new maintenance dude nobody knows or has seen around here before.

  “Speaking of high,” the second dude says in a much lower voice, “did you ever end up scoring that blow from Judo?”

  Who the fuck is Judo? I wonder.

  The first guy whistles. “Yeah, but he upped his prices. Two eight-balls used to be six hundred bucks. He charged me fifteen hundred.”

  “Shit!”

  “I mean, that’s nothing in the grand scheme,” the first dude says. “But for a Friday night’s worth of blow? Come on.”

  “Not to mention how many people here he’s supplying,” the second guy says with a chuckle. “He could quit working here and buy this place.”

  “Fuck, yeah, he could!”

  So “Judo” works here…

  I don’t know how involved this person is, but the first step is finding him and talking to him.

  The rest of their conversation devolves into unrelated shit, about which tennis instructor or yoga teacher at the gym they want to bang. But I can’t believe I stumbled across my first bits of intel here without even trying.

  I glance at my watch. I’m officially twelve minutes late for my tour with Hendrix, so I rush to her office. She’s sitting at her desk, working on her computer, and glances up as I walk in. She smiles.

  “Thought you stood me up.”

  “I,” I huff, trying to catch my breath, “would never. Got held up in the locker room.”

  “I hope not literally,” she jokes, then rises. “Well, let’s go!”

  She was right—the club is monstrous. And it’s important for me to know how to get everywhere, for the job I was officially hired to do and the one I’m here for unofficially. There’s the huge, rolling green golf course that I will thankfully never have to touch, because they employ a special lawn service, and an on-site fitness facility, a couple of restaurants, a ton of conference and event rooms, a café, a golf shop, a spa, and a huge pool area.

  We end up near the main restaurant, standing on the walk out front. “So that’s the whole campus,” she says, squinting up at me, the setting sun in her eyes. “I know it seems huge now, but you’ll have it down like the back of your hand in a few days.”

  For a second I’m lost in the way the sun picks out all the golden flecks in her eyes and skin. She’s like a beautiful, shimmering goddess. Then I shake myself. “Yeah, no doubt. I’m pretty good at finding my way around places.”

  I’d love for your body to be one of those places…

  I could smack myself for that thought, but it’s impossible to not be wholly captivated by her. She’s just so stunning, and I love hearing her talk. She rattled off tons of history of the club, talked at length about how she basically grew up here, and knows the name of every single person on staff.

  “Well.” She smiles up at me. “I guess that’s it. I’m sure you want to get going.”

  “Yeah, it’s dinnertime,” I say, returning her smile and patting my stomach. “I’ve got a luxurious frozen TV meal waiting on me.”

  Hendrix chuckles, then points at the restaurant. “You do know you get a twenty percent discount at the restaurants here, right?”

  For a split second, I forget I “work” here and wonder if it’s because my dad’s a member. But I catch myself in time before I say something truly stupid. First assignment and you blow your cover? What kind of not-really-a-cop are you?

  “Oh yeah? Food good in there?”

  “Very good,” she says firmly. “Great salad bar, and amazing steaks and burgers. You can’t go wrong.”

  “Then how about joining me?” I ask. “I owe you for that awesome tour. You’ve gotta be starved, too. Unless you’re totally sick of the food here.”

  “Well, no, I eat here upwards of four times a week,” she says. “But—but, um, are you sure?”

  I tilt my head. “Well, it’s not like you’re my boss. Or is there some rule about fraternization?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she replies. “I just don’t want to take up your time.”

  “It’d be an honor for you to take up my time,” I say with a grin, and I’m only half-kidding.

  She glances down at the toes of her nude pumps, then back up at me with a smile. “Then sure. I’d love to join you.”

  3

  Hendrix

  Colin…is utterly charming.

  He regales me with stories from college and his family, which have me in stitches. He also talks with his hands—large, strong-looking hands. I note a scar near his wrist.

  “Where’d you get that?” I ask.

  “This? Welding accident.”

  Without thinking, I reach across the table to brush my fingers over the scar. Then I flush and pull back. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he says quietly. Then he ticks his chin at me. “You got any scars on that pretty skin of yours?”

  I smile. He’s so outrageous with his compliments, but everything is steeped in good nature and the real compliment is always sincere. “Hmm. I have a scar from getting my appendix out a few years ago.”

  He lifts his brows. “That’s low on the belly, right?”

  I nod.

  He leans toward me. “I think I’m going to need to see that,” he says with a decisive nod. “Yeah, I don’t believe you.”

  I tip my head back and laugh. “I think you have a little—yeah, there’s a little creep on your face.”

  He pretends
to swipe a hand over his face, then smiles. “I’m glad you’re okay. That can be nasty business.”

  “Well, at the time, I certainly didn’t feel like I was going to be okay,” I say with a wince. “But I was back to swinging a golf club in no time.”

  “You golf?” He lifts his brows.

  “Yeah, just for fun. I used to be on the university golf team, actually. My dad really wanted me to go pro, but, it’s not my thing. I’m good at it, but I don’t love it. And it’s important to find something you love to do.”

  “You love working here?”

  I hesitate, running a finger around the rim of my water glass. “I like working here,” I say finally. “And lately, planning the gala in a couple of weeks has been my full-time focus, and that’s been fun. I wouldn’t say I love working here, but I love my dad. And he worked hard to build this place. I like providing a nice atmosphere for people who come here and want to escape.”

  “And play golf.”

  I smile. “And play golf. Yes. Very important. Do you play?”

  “I used to play with my dad, but it’s been a while. He’s been asking me to play with him h—” Colin breaks off and coughs, then takes a sip of water. “Ah, he’s been asking me to play with him sometime. But I stay pretty busy, so, I haven’t yet.”

  “You any good?”

  He scoffs. “Am I any good? I’ll have you know you have the pleasure of dining with one of the only people in the city to ever get eight over a five-par hole.” He breathes on his nails and wipes them on his shirt.

  I can’t help bursting out laughing again, and several heads turn in our direction.

  He grins at me. “You have a really beautiful smile, you know that?”

  I look away, smiling. “And you have an uncanny talent at making people blush. Did you know that?”

  He folds his arms and leans toward me. “Not people. Just this one really beautiful girl I met recently.”