Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  “Guess you’ve got some studying to do,” he says, nodding at the binder.

  “Just a little,” I say sourly.

  “Better get to it. You know where to report tomorrow?”

  “Yes, Dad. My uniform’s all ready to go too.”

  “Good.” He claps me on the shoulder. “The training you’ve been through with us will definitely help you fall into their training schedule. There’s a good amount of PT they’ll put you through each day, so you’ve already got a leg up.” He playfully punches my arm. “Try not to one-up them with these guns.”

  I roll my eyes. “Man, get out of here before you blow my cover.”

  “Be in touch. Good luck, fire dog!” With a little salute, O’Connor climbs into his unmarked car.

  Before I can step off the curb and cross the street to where my Dodge Charger is parked, a youngish guy around my age steps out of the station. He’s wearing a uniform shirt, but his lanky frame doesn’t strike me as particularly firefighter-y. Most of the dudes inside look like they make good use of their downtime in the gym.

  “Hey,” he says. “You’re the new recruit, right? I’m Ron. I’m one of the dispatchers.”

  “Hey, Ron,” I say. “I’m Khalil. I thought the dispatchers worked out of a call center.”

  “They do,” he replies. “I just like to come by and say hey to the guys. My uncle used to be a firefighter until he retired a few years ago. I was practically raised here.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, the fire academy, huh?”

  “That’s right.”

  Ron nods slowly. “You joined late.”

  A twist of discomfort pangs in my gut. “Yeah. It’s complicated, but it got sorted out.”

  Another slow nod. “Lucky you. I got rejected from the academy for the second year in a row. This time, they told me the class was full.”

  Shit. What’s this?

  Before I can say anything, Ron shrugs. “Well, maybe you were already in the works when they told me that.”

  “Yeah, probably. Maybe next year, huh?”

  He doesn’t smile. “Maybe.”

  Time to get the fuck out of here… “Well, I’ve gotta hit the books, so, better get going. It was nice meeting you.”

  “You too.” Ron nods. “See you around. Good luck in the academy.”

  I manage a wave and trot across the street. “That was weird,” I mutter as I slide behind the wheel.

  I don’t have time to ponder the weirdo. I’ve got a new task in front of me, even more mammoth than the contents of the giant binder.

  I have to tell Elodie I’ve joined the fire academy.

  2

  Elodie Brechs

  The sound of the tiny office doorknob turning barely lifts my attention from the screen in front of me, but there’s only one other person who has a key, so there’s no reason to worry.

  Khalil Robinson steps inside the office, and that does pull my attention. Over the past couple of months, he’s changed, physically. Once tall and lanky, he’s now tall and…built.

  His light brown skin and pale hazel eyes, combined with full lips and a lowkey, cool clothing style have always appealed to me. But over the past two months—the start of some new workout regimen he told me about—his arms have gotten huge, shoulders wider, and I’ve seen the outline of his well-developed pecs under his T-shirts.

  Khalil, my once-nerdy, skinny friend, has gotten…hot.

  “Hey,” I say, trying not to check him out too obviously. He wears a simple black V-neck T-shirt and jeans, his short, high-fade haircut covered up by a Yankees cap.

  “Hey.” He gives me a slow smile. “Working hard, or hardly working?”

  “Dad jokes intact, I see,” I reply, leaning back to stretch in my chair.

  I feel rather than see his gaze on me. Lately—actually, starting around the time he started hitting the gym extra hard—things between us have shifted. I see him less than I did before. He claims to be busy with lots of contracts for coding work, which is great for him, but it also surprises me. Harbinger is his baby, his brainchild, his passion. It’s always come first. But now, it feels like more of an afterthought.

  Not for the first time, I wonder if he’s found a girlfriend and just hasn’t told me, for whatever reason.

  And not for the first time, a rush of dismay flies through me at that thought.

  “I’m following a lead,” I add quickly. “Possible corruption in the governor’s office, but I don’t know how credible it is.”

  Khalil grabs a seat on the small loveseat across from the desk. “Corruption in politics? I’m shocked.”

  We rented the office a couple of years ago to have a shared workspace, and also to protect our homes, in case anyone ever finds out we’re behind Harbinger. It has no windows, and it’s only big enough for an L-shaped desk and the sofa, plus a mini-fridge in the corner.

  “So how’s work going?” I ask. “You’ve been busy.”

  He nods, lowering his gaze. “Yeah. Look, El, I need to tell you something.”

  He has a girlfriend. I ignore the pang in my chest and keep my face stoic. “Shoot.”

  Khalil leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. I’m sitting behind the desk, but he’s still only a couple of feet away. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

  I frown, running a hand through my thick, wavy medium-brown hair. It’s a nervous tic that I’m barely aware of doing. “What is it?”

  He raises his eyes slowly to mine. “I’ve been accepted to the fire academy.”

  That was about the last thing I thought I’d hear. I stare at him speechlessly.

  “I was a last-minute addition to the class,” he continues. “I start tomorrow. You should see the binder they gave me—I have to read it all by tomorrow. I—”

  I finally find my voice. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  He sighs. “I know this comes as a surprise.”

  “It comes as a little more than that, Khalil!” I jump out of my desk chair. “You know what my family’s been through. You know what my brother—”

  Khalil rises from the sofa and reaches out to me, catching my arm. “I know. I know.”

  I stare up into his face, tightening my jaw as my lower lip trembles. Three months ago, my older brother, a firefighter, was wounded badly on a job. He may never get to go back to work again but watching him struggle through his pain and adjust to a new way of life has been heart-wrenching.

  I know it’s ridiculous. Unfair. But I can’t help feeling incredibly betrayed by my best friend.

  “Where did this come from?” I demand, hating how shrill my voice is. “All of a sudden, you want to be a firefighter? I’ve known you for five years, Khalil. You’ve never once said that.” Then something dawns on me. “Does this have anything to do with why you’ve been so busy the past two months? Why you…got so buff?”

  His large, strong hands cup my face gently, and a soft smile crosses his lips. “I know this is weird, Elodie. And yes, it has to do with where I’ve been all this time. Kind of. You just have to trust me. This is the right choice for me.”

  “But how?” I ask. The fight went out of me the moment he touched me. “Did you just stumble into a—a recruiter or something?”

  He lowers his hands. “I’ve seen what your brother has gone through. I started thinking about the sacrifice it takes to do a job like that. How we, the general public, always say pretty things like ‘Thank you for your service’ and ‘We appreciate your sacrifice’ but we don’t really think about what that service and sacrifice can look like. It’s been on my mind…and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

  “So you signed up for the academy?” I ask, still in total disbelief.

  “It’s not quite as easy as that, but…basically.” His gaze is steady, but I can’t help but feel deep in my gut that he’s not telling me everything.

  “I just want to do my part,” he continues. “I know how it’s affected your family. I didn’t know how to broach the subject with y
ou.”

  “So you wait until the day before?”

  Khalil shakes his head. “It’s been complicated. You have to take my word for it, El.”

  “This is just so…goddamn weird.” I frown, leaning toward him. “You’re not telling me something, Khalil. What are you hiding?”

  3

  Khalil

  Is it possible that I could have fucked this up any worse? I’m shocked I’m not stammering like a dumbass under her scrutiny. I consider myself a fairly intelligent person, but the steady, suspicious way Elodie is staring at me now is making me forget my command over the English language.

  I was ordered, in no uncertain terms, not to speak about the Program to anyone not directly involved for any reason. That’s mostly to keep me safe, and mostly to protect the integrity of the program. And that means I can’t tell Elodie.

  I tell Elodie everything. She’s my best friend. She’s been my best friend since college. She’s the woman I’ve been secretly in love with for some time now. And all I’m doing is lying to her.

  It fucking sucks.

  “There’s really not much more to it than that, El,” I say, doing my best to look her in the eye. “I just didn’t want to hit a sore spot with you before it was absolutely necessary.”

  “You do you, Khalil,” she says, sounding tired. She turns toward her laptop and slaps it closed. “I’m going to head out.”

  “Wait,” I say quickly. “Um. Tell me more about that lead.”

  Elodie glances up at me. Her brown eyes are distant, her full, pink lips drawn tight. “It’s all right. There’s not much more to tell right now.”

  I watch helplessly as she tucks the laptop into her messenger bag. I feel like such an asshole.

  Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she turns toward me. “Excuse me.”

  Our office is really sized for one person. I have to step out of her way in order for her to leave, and suddenly, my feet are frozen to the floor. There’s so much I want to say. To try to say. And I can’t say any of it.

  “Khalil?” Elodie’s dark brows raise slightly.

  “Yeah, sorry.” Reluctantly, I step to the side enough to let her pass.

  Her chest brushes mine as she turns to maneuver around me. We both freeze, our gazes locking.

  Now, she doesn’t seem to be able to move, either.

  The top of her head reaches my chin. She’s close enough for me to smell the sweet, fresh scent of her long, thick, wavy hair and the warm, coconut scent on her tan skin. Her body is lush with curves in all the best places, showcased today in a snug, white tank top and tight jeans.

  Ever since I started the Program training, I’ve noticed Elodie looking at me more and more. I’ve gotten a lot bigger, developing muscles I never really knew I had. We’ve always had a friendly, at times innocently flirty, relationship, but I’ve sensed a shift between us.

  Heat blooms inside me as her eyes slip down from mine to my lips for a brief moment.

  That single glance sets something instinctual off inside me, something outside my consciousness. I slide a hand across her waist to the small of her back and pull her close.

  Our lips collide in a searing kiss, and my entire body goes up in flames.

  Elodie’s hands land on either side of my face as I bury my hands in her thick mane. Our mouths devour each other frantically, and then our tongues meet in deep, wet kisses.

  And then, suddenly—the moment is over.

  Elodie leaps back, one hand over her mouth. “I—sorry. I have to go.”

  “Wait,” I call, but she shakes her head and hurries out the door.

  Fuck.

  I brace a hand on the corner of the desk, my heart still pounding, my breathing heavy. What did I just do? What did we just do? I don’t know what the fall out is going to be from this—but I’m afraid it’s going to come, all the same.

  But she kissed you back, a little voice in my head points out.

  The feel of her plush, full lips, eager on mine, her tongue gliding into my mouth, is fresh in my mind. Yes. She kissed me back. I don’t know what it means, and now that she’s taken off like a bat out of hell, I’m not sure I’m going to get to find out.

  The attraction that’s been building between us is undeniable, and a line was just crossed. But I only regret it because I don’t know what she’s thinking. The way her mouth tasted, the way her body felt against mine—warm, soft, curved—that all felt right. I can’t regret that. And my dick certainly has no regrets—I’m still hard. I would have loved to strip Elodie naked and lay her down on this sofa, kissed and licked every single part of her until she begged for more, then slid inside her and fucked her slow and hard until she came all over my cock. Then, I would have taken her home and made love to her properly in my bed. Worshipped her body. Made her breakfast. Waited on her hand and foot.

  Not helping the dick situation.

  “Fuck,” I say out loud this time, but it comes out as a groan. I kissed my best friend, and I might have ruined everything.

  Unfortunately, there’s no time for me to spend thinking about ways to remedy what just happened. No time to call her or text her and explain myself.

  My gaze falls on my backpack, containing the thick binder of material I need to study before eight tomorrow morning.

  “Fuck,” I snap, then hurl myself down on the sofa and begin to study.

  4

  Khalil

  Two weeks later

  “Thank god it’s Friday, huh, Khalil?”

  One of the cadets, Clive, slings his backpack over his shoulder as our class files out of the fire academy building. It’s purely a training building that RCPD shares, complete with a large gym for PT—physical training—and several classrooms, as well as a huge bay with fire trucks and police cars for driving training.

  To say it’s been a long two weeks would be the understatement of the millennium. During the day, I frequently forget that I’m undercover. Our days are busy, long, and exhausting, and I’m every bit the cadet everyone else is.

  Except when it comes to the test. To ensure I pass, the chief made sure I got copies of the tests and answers inside that giant binder. It’s a necessity, as the trainers don’t know who I really am. The fewer people who know, the better. And since that’s the case, I’m as much at risk for failing and getting kicked out as anyone else. To ensure that doesn’t happen, I get to be a cheater.

  In those moments, I remember why I’m really there, but it’s hard not to feel guilty, especially when my fellow classmates are working so hard. I imagine they’d all be pretty pissed and feel betrayed if they knew the truth.

  But for now, at least, I can respond honestly to Clive. I am glad as fuck it’s Friday.

  “Hell yes,” I say with a groan. “Is it me, or did this week feel like an eternity?”

  “Definitely not you,” he agrees. “Big plans?”

  “Studying,” I say with a shrug. “You?”

  “Same.” We both laugh—it was a silly question anyway. None of us have time to have much fun.

  I catch sight of a familiar-looking guy standing in the bay, chatting up a few of the trainers. It takes me a second to place him.

  “You met that guy?” Clive asks in a low voice, ticking his chin toward him.

  “I…think so,” I say slowly. “He looks familiar.”

  “That’s Ron,” he says, and it all comes together as I recall the guy I met two weeks ago after my meeting with the fire chief.

  “The dispatcher,” I say.

  “That’s right.”

  “What’s his deal?” I ask.

  Clive shrugs. “I don’t really know for sure, just that he’s tried a thousand times to get accepted to the fire academy. He claims his uncle was a firefighter a while ago, and he thinks that automatically means he gets to be one.”

  “So how come he never gets accepted?”

  “I think he pissed off the wrong people.” Clive shakes his head. “He’s a try-hard and thinks his uncle is the only tic
ket he needs. It’s hard to get accepted, as you know, and he just doesn’t have the credentials.”

  “So why don’t they tell him to stop applying?”

  “Beats me, man. I’m not even sure how he got to be a dispatcher.”

  “Uncle card?”

  “Probably.” Clive claps me on the shoulder. “I’m heading home. There’s a cold beer or three with my name on them.”

  “Take it easy, man.” I nod as Clive heads toward his car, then turn back to where Ron is still chatting with the trainers. Except now that I look closer, I can see it’s much more of a one-sided conversation. The two trainers don’t look engaged and are slowly backing away from him, clearly trying to put an end to whatever conversation they’re having.

  I feel sort of bad for the guy. I don’t know his story, but it’s got to be rough working in the industry you want to be in, but not the job. Especially when that job has made it clear it doesn’t want you.

  Ron seems to finally get the hint and turns away from them, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

  I’m not sure what makes me do it—some instinct borne of either suspicion or empathy, maybe both—but I walk toward him. He glances up, brows lifting.

  “Khalil?”

  “Hey, Ron,” I reply. We shake hands. “I thought that was you. What’re you doing here?”

  His gaze travels over me, taking in my requisite RCFD polo, khakis, and boots—the uniform of the cadet. The jealousy in his eyes flares bright. “Just swung by to check up on things. Show my face. You know, campaign.”

  “Campaign?”

  “For my spot in the next class,” he says, as if this should be obvious. “So. How’s academy training going?”

  I’m not sure where it comes from, but some instinct deep inside tells me to put on an act. Probably the same instinct that’s telling me this guy is one crayon short of a full pack.

  I heave a sigh. “I mean, it’s okay. I guess…I had other expectations.”