Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection
Page 11
“Hey, Jude,” I joke. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”
He chuckles. “I get that one from time to time. Damn that Paul McCartney.”
“I mean, it’s a great song.” I shrug. “There are worse names to have in common, probably.”
“True. And it has been my nickname since childhood. One of ’em, anyway. Most people I know call me Judo.”
I freeze. “J-Judo?”
He gives me half a smile and nods.
Fuck, man. Now or never.
“I think I’ve heard that name around the club,” I say, pitching my voice low. “From some of the guys.”
Judo lifts a brow. “Oh yeah? What’ve you heard?”
I glance around, as if to make sure we’re alone, even though I know we are. “That you got top-shelf blow.”
His face gives nothing away. “Who’d you hear that from?”
I shrug. “I don’t know their names. Couple of guys our age, I guess. I’m the maintenance guy. I can’t exactly go around during work hours asking for details on blow, can I?”
Judo folds his arms. “And yet, here you are.”
He still hasn’t given anything away—he’s good. But I guess someone running a white-collar coke business at the ritziest country club in town should be.
“Look,” I tell him. “I got money to spend, and more than that—I got friends with money to spend. Either you’re on the level or you’re not—but either way, I’d appreciate it if this conversation didn’t leave this shop.” I glance away. “I’ll be back with the bulbs.”
He says nothing as I walk out of the room. The last bit was to let him marinate more than me. I know who he is. He just has to decide if he wants to confirm that’s who he is.
When I return there are a couple more customers inside the shop, so I climb up the ladder and change out the bulbs, then screw the cover back into place. The shop empties as I’m packing up my tools, and then Judo walks around the counter again.
“Look, I’m not going to confirm or deny our previous conversation,” he says, then hands me a scrap of paper. There’s a series of numbers printed on it and nothing else. “But if you’re really interested, you can text this number and ask about the sale.”
I tuck the paper in my pocket. “That’s it? The sale?”
He nods. “Time to get back to work.”
“Right.” I return the nod and gather my things. It takes all the self-control I possess not to sprint out of the office.
Once I’m out of sight, I duck into the utility closet to replace the ladder and whip out my non-work cell phone. I debate sending him a text message but decide what I have to tell him is too urgent for that.
“Sergeant Black,” he answers.
“It’s me, Colin,” I mutter. “I got a hit.”
“What’s up?” he says. I can practically see him sitting up straight.
“I’m pretty sure I just had a conversation with the dealer.”
“That Judo guy?”
“Yeah.” I tell him exactly what happened during our exchange. “He gave me a number to text about ‘the sale.’”
“Then you better text it later on and send me screenshots.” Dominic pauses. “And be careful, Colin.”
“Gee, should I be careful?” I say sarcastically. “Do you really think I need to?”
Dominic sighs heavily. “Get back to work.”
“Roger that one, Sarge.” I hang up, shaking my head.
“Who was that?” a voice asks behind me.
I whirl around. Hendrix stands behind me, arms folded over her middle. She definitely looks troubled.
Oh, shit. How much of that did she hear?
“Just—just my mom,” I tell her with an easy chuckle.
“You call your mother Sarge?”
“She gets bossy when she’s worried about me,” I say. Technically, this isn’t a lie in general. But I don’t call my mother Sarge, and I damn sure wasn’t talking to her. The oily slickness of guilt fills my mouth. I hate lying to Hendrix. “She thinks I’m going to fall and hit my head. I’m kind of a klutz.”
Hendrix just nods, glancing down at her shoes.
I peer more closely at her. “Hey, are you okay?”
She draws a deep, shaky breath. “I just…” She swallows, her slender throat working. Then she lifts stormy dark eyes to me. “Have you ever overheard something that you just didn’t know what to do about?”
Fuck…
“I’ve definitely heard some weird shit a time or two,” I say carefully, trying to make my voice as neutral as possible. I reach for her hand and draw her into the closet, then shut the door. “What’s up, Hendrix? What’s wrong?” I can’t help brushing a lock of her golden-chocolate hair behind an ear.
She shakes her head, her eyes distant as she bites her lower lip. “I was in the women’s lounge not too long ago, making my rounds and checking on supplies. And I—” She stares up at me. “I didn’t see them, I only heard them. But…but…”
“It’s okay,” I say quietly, twining my fingers with hers. I do not like where this is going. “What happened?”
“I’m, like, ninety-five percent certain I overheard two members doing drugs,” she whispers.
“Doing…drugs?”
“Yeah, you know.” She waves her free hand wildly. “Sniffing—snorting. Something. I don’t know the fucking terminology, Colin, I just know what I heard!” She makes a sharp sniffing noise. “That doesn’t mean a whole lot of other things, you know?”
“Someone could have been blowing their nose,” I point out weakly.
“Maybe, but the conversation I heard…” Hendrix shakes her head again, almost like a shudder. “Grams and money and customers.” She gazes up at me, eyes fierce. “I know a lot of people only see me as a sheltered little rich girl playing at Daddy’s work, but I’m not stupid. I can be pretty naïve sometimes, but I’m not stupid.”
“I know you’re not,” I say. “You’re absolutely not stupid. Come here.”
I pull her into my arms, and she squeezes my waist.
“It freaked me out,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against my chest.
“I’ll bet it did.” I pause, chewing the inside of my cheek. “You said you overheard prices. Like what?”
“One of them said something about five hundred a gram for repeat customers. A thousand for new ones.”
“You get a name?”
She lifts her head. “Why, Colin?”
Her gaze is so suspicious I can’t help a rueful chuckle. It’d be much easier and probably more believable if I told her I was interested in buying some. Who’d ever think the friendly neighborhood maintenance dude was an undercover narc?
“I’m not interested in becoming a customer, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I say. “I’m just wondering who could be so bold as to deal drugs here. Another member?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure. My phone went off right then, and they heard it. I ran out of there pretty fast so they wouldn’t know it was me.”
“You tell your dad?”
“Do you think I should?” A look of anger passes over her face. “I haven’t told anyone but you. I’ve just been walking around in a daze. I feel so damn helpless. So shocked. I’m an adult who knows drugs exist in the world—I need to get over myself.”
“Yeah, anyone with half a brain knows drugs exist,” I say, “but coming face to face with it, or with someone using, is a pretty shocking thing.”
She studies me. “You sound like you know what that’s like.”
“I do, unfortunately.”
“Yeah?”
I flash her a half smile. “I’ll bore you with that on our date, if you really want the details.”
“I do. And I want the date tonight, too.” She smiles. “If you can. You might be busy.”
I return the smile. “Who, me?”
Hendrix trails her fingers up my arms and drapes her arms over my shoulders. “You could have a whole other life I know nothing about.”
A little shy smile plays at the corners of her luscious lips. “You certainly weren’t boring behind the café today.”
“Oh, I wasn’t?” I murmur, angling my head toward hers.
“No,” she says in a breathless whisper. “You were very, very exciting.”
“Oh,” I say again, drawing out the word, letting my lips graze hers. “Did I excite you?”
She nods, breathing a little faster.
“I could excite you more.” I slowly back her against some metal shelves and brace my hands on the edge. “Later on.”
Her eyes are pinned to my lips. “Could you?”
“It would most definitely be my pleasure.”
Hendrix swallows. “And if I told you I haven’t been with a guy since junior year?”
I smile, leaning closer. “I’d say, that’s exquisite.”
“What I’m saying is, I don’t have a ton of experience.”
“Well, I don’t, either,” I reply in a low voice. “But I know I want to please you. Make you happy. Blow your mind.” I kiss her lips gently, then pull back just far enough so she can see my hungry grin. “I feel pretty damn confident I can do that much. And if I don’t get it on the first try—which I will—I’ll just keep trying…” I kiss her between each word. “And trying…and trying…”
She slides her hands up my neck to tug me closer. At that moment, there’s a tiny explosion in her blazer pocket and she jumps back.
“It’s my dad,” she whispers. “Oh, shit—I was supposed to be in a meeting ten minutes ago!”
“Go,” I tell her. “Text me your address. I’m going to pick you up tonight at seven thirty. Okay?”
The phone is already halfway to her ear, but she smiles at me, her dimple digging into her cheek. “Okay.”
I’m definitely breaking all kinds of rules, I realize as the door shuts. But I’ve never really been a stickler for those before.
Especially not when I’m falling in love with the most beautiful woman in the world.
6
Hendrix
I relax against the back of the booth, smiling across the cozy table for two at Colin. He brought me to a casual bistro I love that’s well known in the city for its gourmet spin on gastropub fare and craft cocktails. I’m a sucker for a great craft cocktail, and my mango mule is seriously hitting the spot.
“What’s it like, working for your dad?” he asks, resting his elbows on the table. A pint of ale sits before him. “I mean, that’s got to be weird sometimes.”
“Me and my dad are super close, and we work well together,” I say. Then I think about how he’s been acting lately, ever since he discovered me and Colin having dinner together. “Well, most of the time, anyway.”
“You ever get lonely in that office of yours, all by yourself?”
I pop a fried mushroom into my mouth. Was that supposed to sound sexy? “Not really. I’m an introvert, so I really like alone time. Besides, I’ve done the cubicle thing before, the open-concept workspace thing. Not my happy place.”
“No?” He smiles. “You didn’t love that near-constant chatter all around you at all times?”
I laugh. “No. And I don’t miss hearing that annoying lady two seats down, loudly freaking out over her Valentine’s Day roses either.”
“You mean to say you never got Valentine’s Day roses?” he asks, lifting his dark brows. “Or you just didn’t loudly freak out over them?”
I flush. “Either. Neither.”
“How in the world do you not have an entire florist’s shop on Valentine’s Day?”
He’s not gassing me up. He’s actually sincerely surprised by this, and that makes me melt even more.
“I told you,” I say. “I haven’t been with anyone in a few years. I’ve been focused on my career. Putting in that hard work in those crap environments so I could land this job.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I still find it hard to believe you had to land a job at your dad’s business.”
I lift my chin. “I refused to have any accuse me of nepotism, so I told him to treat me how he’d treat any other prospective candidate. And right after college, he told me I needed more office experience, that I needed to show progression in my roles. So that’s exactly what I did.”
Colin gives me an admiring smile. “I think that’s really incredible. Most people in your position would gladly take the handout, and no one would judge them for it. You worked for your position. I find that inspiring.”
I take a sip of my drink, embarrassed to be talking about myself so much. “And you? What does your dad do?”
“He’s the ca—” He breaks into a cough, then taps his chest with his fist. “Sorry, allergies. Um, he’s in…welding, too.”
“He has his own company?”
“Uh, no.” Colin shakes his head. “No, but he’s worked at the company for a really long time.”
He seems a little embarrassed about it, and that sucks. I don’t care at all that he’s from a blue-collar family. That means nothing to me.
“So that’s how you got your job?” I press.
“No, I…” He trails off, then returns his smile to me. “I guess you could say I worked hard for my position, too. My dad doesn’t really believe in handouts, either.”
It only makes me respect him more. “So where did you learn all your mad maintenance skills?”
He laughs, and this time it feels more genuine and relaxed. “I grew up learning what my dad called ‘valuable skills.’ Of course, there are a ton of other valuable skills in life, but he was pretty interested in the tactile ones.”
“So you’re saying you’re good with your hands,” I flirt, taking another sip of my cocktail.
He chuckles, but his eyes heat. “What’s in that?”
“All kinds of yummy stuff.”
“You’re all kinds of yummy stuff,” he says with a wink, and I burst out laughing. Maybe it’s the liquor, but I laugh loud enough to draw the attention of a nearby table, which then makes Colin burst out laughing.
“Hey,” he says, trying to sound defensive through his laughter. “I’m trying to spit some real game to you.”
I lean across the table. “You don’t have to do that. You got the girl.”
His emerald eyes flash. “Oh, do I?”
I claim his lips in a searing kiss, and he kisses me back immediately, his tongue skimming mine. It’s easy to forget we’re in a public place, but the clearing of our server’s throat makes me jump and pull back.
The young server, maybe in his early twenties, looks like he’s had enough of the bullshit. He holds a tray carrying plates with our meals—pub-style Shepherd’s Pie for me, and a sirloin burger with sweet potato fries for him.
“Actually,” I say, meeting Colin’s gaze across the table but addressing the server, “would you mind putting those in to-go boxes for us?”
“And bring me the check,” Colin adds, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Whatever,” the server mumbles, heading back to the kitchen.
We hardly pay him any attention, totally focused on each other. I’m hot. I down the rest of my drink.
“Your place or mine?” I ask breathlessly.
“I live about thirty minutes from here,” he replies, his hand tight around his beer glass.
“Then I’m closer. My place.”
A slow smile spreads across his face.
The server returns with our bag of food and the check. Colin hands him some cash and tells him to keep the change. Then he grabs my hand and we rush out to his dented charcoal pickup.
He hoists me into the passenger seat, then pauses to tug my head down for a kiss. One of his hands lands on my knee and skims up my thigh, under the skirt of my floral sundress.
“You feel like silk,” he murmurs against my lips. “I wonder what the rest of you feels like.”
&n
bsp; I take a shuddering breath. “Get your ass behind the wheel and get us home. Then you can find out.”
He does a comical run around the front of the truck, making me giggle, then, with graceful athleticism, climbs up behind the wheel. We hold hands, our fingers entwined, and share slow, deep kisses at the stop light.
Finally, he pulls into the parking lot of my gated apartment complex and parks in the same stall he did when he came to pick me up. We hurry inside. Three other people share the elevator with us on the ride up to the top floor where my unit is, so we behave, sharing heated, private looks.
My heart pounds hard as we finally reach my door and I unlock it. I push the door open, whirl, and yank him inside by the front of his shirt.
He laughs softly, letting me pull him in and lead him deeper into my place, pausing just long enough to set the bag with our food on the counter.
“You know,” he says, gripping my waist, “this was supposed to happen after dinner. After a romantic date, some dessert. It’s barely dark outside.”
“I can’t help it,” I pant, backing into my bedroom.
“I didn’t even get a tour of the apartment,” he purrs against my lips.
I let out a soft whimper. “Later. Later. I need you now.”
His mouth lands on mine. Now that we’re all alone, not at the club, not in public, he unleashes, devouring my mouth. The only sounds in the room are the wet noises our lips and tongues make, my high-pitched breaths, his low, rumbly moans.
“This was a nice dress, by the way,” he says, unzipping it. “You looked beautiful in it.”
“And this was a great shirt.” My eager fingers fumble at the buttons of his forest-green button up. “It really brings out your eyes.”
My dress pools at my feet at the same time I get his shirt open and tug it off. He pulls off the snug white undershirt he wears underneath it and I can’t help a soft, eager moan. He’s absolute perfection underneath—wide, sculpted shoulders, rounded biceps, a broad, smooth chest, and a heavily muscled abdomen.
His warm hands slide over the smooth skin of my back to unclasp my bra, and I start trembling. It’s been so long since I was here, in this place with a guy. Vulnerable and shaking and—