Ridge City Recruits: The Full Seven-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  Mitch stands in the doorway. He raises an eyebrow at us, then points at Ryan. “You. Come on. We got a run.”

  Ryan draws his head back. “At three in the morning?”

  Mitch lifts a shoulder impatiently. “What, you got somewhere to be?”

  “We’re in the middle of something,” I snap.

  “It’s important,” Mitch says tightly. “Let’s go.”

  Ryan studies Mitch for an extended moment, then nods. “Sure. Be right there.” He sets down the wrench and wipes off his hands. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, briefly swiping his thumb across the screen, then tucks it away. “The bike is good to go, Gemma.”

  I blink at the sudden change in his tone. It’s as if a mask has dropped over his face. “Ryan?” The feeling of unease in my gut tightens.

  He gives me a quick, one-sided smile. “It’s all good.” He turns to follow Mitch.

  I notice something draped over my Softail. “Ryan!”

  Both he and Mitch turn.

  I hold out his heavy, scuffed leather jacket. “You forgot this.”

  Ryan holds my gaze for a long moment. “Why don’t you hang onto that for me?”

  The door swings closed behind them, and I suddenly need to sit down.

  7

  Ryan

  On the outside, I’m cool, calm, collected. It was how I was trained to be. Stay level-headed at all times. Don’t let on that something’s wrong.

  On the inside, I’m full of sinking dread. Something is very wrong. I don’t know what or why. All I know is that my instincts started screaming at the top of their lungs at me the second Mitch walked into Gemma’s garage.

  He never taps me for runs. Those orders always come from Tristan. And Tristan bailed several hours ago. So what the hell is this?

  I wish I had the chance to tell Gemma the truth about me before leaving with Mitch. I wish I had told her two weeks ago. She deserves to know the truth. Both truths—that I’m not some criminal. I’m undercover for RCPD.

  And that I’m desperately, deeply, wholly in love with her.

  But as I follow Mitch outside and hop on my bike without my jacket, something in the pit of my stomach tells me I won’t have the chance.

  I sure hope my detective liaison got my desperate, short text.

  There’s nothing I can do now but take the ride.

  The wind blows through my T-shirt, and I’m freezing. But if I’m not coming back from this excursion, I want the woman I love to keep my most prized possession. She’s the only person who truly knows what it means to me. So in a way, it belongs to her, too.

  Several miles later, the crew of eight, led by Mitch, slow to a stop. We’re on a deserted back road, the only light coming from the Harleys’ headlights.

  I stay on my bike and am totally unsurprised when Mitch dismounts and promptly points a long-barreled revolver at me.

  “I always knew there was something off about you,” he starts, walking toward me. “The way you just showed up out of nowhere and got in real tight with the Blacks. Made me look like a fucking jackoff in front of the crew. I knew something was off about you, but I could never tell what it was. And then I sent one of the guys to follow you one day when you left after spending the night fucking Gemma. You didn’t think we knew about that?”

  He steps closer. I don’t move.

  “Gemma was supposed to be my girl,” he says in a low, dangerous tone. “I saw her first. I was here first. Then you showed up and took her from me.”

  “I hate to be the one to break this to you, Mitch,” I say flatly, “but Gemma’s her own woman. And I’m pretty sure she’d beat you over the head with a wrench before she’d let you touch her.”

  He thumbs back the hammer on the revolver. The noise is ominous in the still night. “I’d watch your mouth if I was you. And I think she’ll be pretty happy to hear what became of the police rat—that I exterminated you.”

  I swallow. “So that’s what this is about?”

  “That’s your problem, you fuck,” Mitch says. “You think you’re so much smarter than everybody. My guy followed you to a diner, where you met and had a nice long chat with another guy. And then my guy followed your breakfast date right to RCPD headquarters.”

  I had regular meetings with my liaison to keep him updated with all my findings on the Draconians, but despite checking for a tail, I never noticed one. Who had he gotten to follow me?

  Mitch flashes me a terrible smile. “You’re a narc, buddy boy. And now, you’re dead.”

  I accept it, all of it, in a flash.

  The night of the accident, I didn’t accept the fact that I could have died. Even when I hit the pavement and went skidding twenty-five feet, I refused to accept that that was my last moment. Even as I watched my best friend die.

  But now…full acceptance comes over me. Acceptance, and peace.

  I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done wrong in this life.

  Maybe it was for the best I didn’t tell Gemma the truth. She’s safer not knowing, without me around to protect her. If I told her, they’d come after her next.

  I just wish I could tell her now…

  Gemma…I love you.

  Cold metal presses to the middle of my forehead. I keep my eyes closed.

  “Nighty-night, narc,” Mitch whispers.

  I brace myself, a crashing sound resonating through my brain over and over and over.

  Suddenly, cutting through the noise in my mind, there comes another. Deep, rumbling.

  The sound of a motorcycle. No, two.

  “What the fuck?” Mitch mutters.

  I open my eyes.

  Two headlights speed down the road toward us. They’re practically on top of us before they screech to a halt, and I see Gemma and Tristan hop off their Harleys.

  “Stop!” Gemma screams.

  Tristan strides past her, toward us. He pulls out his own revolver and aims it at me.

  Fuck. He wants to be the one to do it himself.

  “Put it on the ground,” Tristan says in a deadly calm voice. “Right the fuck now.”

  Confusion seizes me. Put what on the ground? Myself?

  Then I realize he’s not pointing his gun at me.

  He’s pointing it at Mitch.

  “Tristan, what the fuck are you doing?” Mitch demands incredulously. “This fucker right here works for the cops, Tristan! He’s a fucking narc!”

  My gaze fixes on Gemma. She’s wearing my leather jacket, I notice. And she gazes back at me, her mouth hanging open in shock.

  I’m sorry, I mouth at her. I love you.

  She blinks rapidly.

  Then Tristan shocks me.

  “I know,” he says calmly.

  Mitch is so surprised, he actually lowers his gun. “You…you know? And he’s still breathing?”

  “You’re not the only one who has spies around here, my friend,” Tristan tells him. “And I think you forgot something along the way—all of you work for me.”

  “I was trying to help you!” Mitch replies.

  “I know what you’ve been up to lately,” Tristan says. “I know you’ve been running a whole lot more than coke over the border.”

  Mitch’s face twitches.

  “That’s not what I ever agreed to do,” Tristan continues in a low voice. “Women and girls, Mitch? Underage girls?”

  Fuck. Even I hadn’t uncovered that.

  “Ryan, get off the bike and come here,” Tristan orders. “With your hands up. Don’t even think about trying any of that tricky shit with me.”

  I keep my hands up, swing a leg over the bike and back up toward him. I would much rather put my back to Tristan than to Mitch.

  “This is what it’s come to, Tristan?” Mitch says, and slowly raises his gun. It’s now pointing at Tristan. “All those years of loyalty?”

  “You were never loyal,” Tristan replies. “You were waiting for your chance to take me out.”

  At that moment, a piercing wail fills the night air.
r />   The wail of a police siren.

  “Fuck!” Mitch shouts, whirling around. “Fellas, get the fuck out of here!” He darts for his bike, then shoots a look over his shoulder at us. “This isn’t over, Tristan.”

  “You’re right,” Tristan says. “It’s not.”

  The sirens get closer, and I realize they’re coming from both sides. Down the road the way we came, and from the other direction.

  We’re trapped.

  “Fuck!” Mitch screams, then aims his gun at us.

  “Move!” Tristan yells, diving.

  I whirl toward Gemma, who’s standing frozen in place, completely shocked.

  Mitch pulls the trigger at the same second I dive toward her.

  Searing heat rips through my shoulder as I tackle Gemma down to the ground. We roll down into the ditch.

  “Fuck,” I growl through gritted teeth against the pain. I’ve been hit, but I ignore it. “Gemma. Are you all right?”

  She gasps softly. “Ryan? What—”

  A barrage of gunfire from the road explodes through the air. I cover her body with mine, protecting her head, and squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it to be over.

  Her body trembles underneath mine, her fingers curling into my shirt.

  I refuse to let anything happen to her.

  After a long moment, the gunfire ceases, and I hear sharp orders being barked. A light sweeps over us.

  “We got a couple more! Hey, hands up! Now!”

  Slowly, I lift my hands in the air. Gemma does the same, slowly sitting up.

  “They aren’t suspects,” comes the familiar voice of my liaison. “Sergeant, that’s my guy. He’s good.”

  Several uniformed cops help us out of the ditch, and Gemma gasps when she sees the flashlight on me. “You’re hit!”

  There’s blood all over my side, and I’m a little woozy, but I smile at her. “You’re all right. That’s all that matters.”

  Medics lead me to an ambulance parked well behind the police cruisers and tend to my wound as the cops finish handcuffing Mitch and his crew and shoving them into cruisers.

  It’s determined the bullet went through the meat, a clean through-and-through. They tidy me up as much as possible, bandage the wound, and give me antibiotics to fight off infection.

  “That’s what’ll kill you at this point,” a medic says, somewhat cheerfully.

  “Thanks,” I say drily. “Hey, you should really work on your bedside manner.”

  “Ryan.”

  I turn.

  Tristan stands before me, his hands cuffed behind his back.

  “He’s all right,” I insist to the cop holding him by the elbow. “Don’t do this.”

  “That’s not how this works,” the cop tells me softly.

  “Can I have just a second, please?” Tristan asks him quietly.

  The cop hesitates. “Make it fast.”

  Tristan looks at me. “No hard feelings, Ryan. I know it wasn’t personal.”

  “I’m gonna help you, man,” I insist. “You don’t deserve this.”

  He shrugs, a faint smile playing around his mouth. “I deserve my share. Look, take care of Gemma. The cops want to talk to her, but your detective friend assured me she’s not in trouble. If I go away, I need to know she’ll be all right.” He pauses, then sighs. “She loves you.”

  “I love her,” I tell him.

  He nods. “I know.”

  “Time’s up,” the cop says, tugging Tristan’s elbow.

  “This isn’t over,” I promise Tristan. Then I pause. That’s what Mitch said to him. But I’m going to help Tristan, not harm him. He’s a good man. I know he is.

  Tristan flashes half a smile over his shoulder as he stumbles after the cop. “See you around, Ryan.”

  Something jagged cuts me, inside, as I watch the cop shove him into the backseat and drive off.

  “Ryan?”

  The trembling voice makes me whip around.

  Gemma’s standing behind me, still wearing my jacket, tears slicing down her dirt-covered cheeks.

  Without hesitation, I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly. “I wanted to tell you. I really did. I’m so sorry, Gemma.” I draw my head back, cupping her face, and gaze into her eyes. “I love you. Please believe me. I love you.”

  “I’m…so confused,” she says tearfully. “But…I love you, too, Ryan.”

  “Good,” I say softly, giving her a gentle smile. “Because your brother said I have to watch out for you.”

  Her face crumples. “What’s going to happen to him?”

  I pull her close again. “I’m going to do everything I can to help him. We’re gonna get him back, Gemma, I promise.”

  She squeezes me and buries her face in my shoulder.

  We have a long road ahead of us. We have a long night ahead of us, talking to the detectives and the cops.

  But as Gemma pulls my face to hers and our lips meet, I know I’ll never ride that road alone again.

  Epilogue

  Ryan

  Nine months later

  Tristan Black was sentenced to one year in prison but was released after nine months for good behavior—and his willingness to comply with prosecutors. The Draconian gang was disbanded, and all of the members are serving minimum twenty-five-year prison sentences without the opportunity for parole for drug trafficking and human trafficking.

  A few days after his release, we’re having a small, quiet cookout in the backyard of the house Gemma and I share. I lean against the low brick wall surrounding half the patio, waiting for the steaks on the grill to reach perfection, and I smile at Gemma and her brother. Their dad’s just headed out to the liquor store to grab another case of beer and some sparkling water for Gemma.

  “Man,” Tristan says, running a hand over his newly shortened black hair. Instead of wearing the top long, as it was when I met him, it’s now a few inches shorter, the top neatly combed back away from his forehead in a trendy style. Gone are the motorcycle leathers. Now, he’s wearing jeans, a gray T-shirt, and white Nikes. “You guys have been busy.”

  He playfully cups Gemma’s swollen belly. She’s four months pregnant with our baby. “I get out of prison less than a year later and I’ve got a brother-in-law and a niece or nephew on the way.” He glances at me, smirking. “Remind me to kick your ass—after you cook my steak.”

  I laugh. “You got it, bro.”

  Ultimately, it was up to Tristan to decide to comply with the prosecutors, but I talked my ass off for about ten hours straight, begging the detectives and their bosses and their bosses’ bosses to give Tristan a chance. There was no way he could escape prison time, but he did less than the minimum.

  And from what I understand, he’s the Program’s newest Recruit.

  I got out of the Program shortly after everything went down. About a month later, I received a letter, mysteriously stating that my vehicular homicide charge had been wiped clean. I was a new man…and then I became a husband, after I found out I was going to be a dad.

  Gemma and I turned the Black family shop into our own business, and it’s booming. We have a small staff, and business has been picking up for us. We both have entrepreneurial spirits, so we’re constantly exploring new business ideas.

  I catch Gemma’s eye and wink. She blushes and bites her bottom lip. I make a mental note of that for later on.

  We’re also constantly exploring each other, but, that’s a different story for another day.

  She joins me at the grill. “How’s that meat?”

  I lift my brows. “Thick, long, and juicy. It’s got a bone in the middle too.”

  Gemma rolls her eyes. “God, I walked right into that. You’re right, though. How do you think this baby got in here?” She cradles our baby. I lean down to plant several kisses on her belly. “But I meant the steak. We’re hungry, chef.”

  “Coming right up, Snookums.” I pull the steaks off the grill and lay them on a big platter she’s holding.

  “What did I tell you
about that nickname? What’d I say was going to happen to you if you called me that again?”

  I cup a hand around my ear. “Huh? I can’t hear you.”

  “You are—”

  “Incorrigible?” I grin.

  “I was going to say something else, but that’s probably nicer.” She hip-bumps me, turning to carry the platter to the picnic table. “I love you, you idiot.”

  “I love you, Mrs. Walsh.” I kiss her proffered lips, grabbing a secret handful of her ass. There are only so many boundaries I can push in front of Tristan.

  I watch my beautiful wife walk back to the table. Her brother jumps up to clear space for her on the table. Pops—what I call my father-in-law, to his fond irritation—returns just in time with beer and fruity seltzer.

  For a moment, I just stand there, drinking it in. A new life. A family.

  I glance over at my beat-up, scarred leather jacket, draped over a patio chair where I left it after my morning ride.

  “How about that, Benny,” I murmur to it, then lift my gaze skyward.

  I finally got a chance at a real life. And I’ll never stop being grateful.

  The End

  6 | TRISTAN

  1

  Tristan Black

  My baby sister Gemma slings her arm through mine, walking with me down the driveway. “Thanks for coming, Tris. I know you’re probably feeling a little overwhelmed right now, and you probably just want to be alone.”

  I smile down at her, then lean in to peck her forehead. “Are you kidding me? I missed you so much while I was in. Plus, I needed to make sure Ryan was taking care of you.” I reach out to pat her pregnant belly. “Looks like he was,” I add drily.

  She tips her head back and laughs. “At least he made an honest woman out of me.” Then she sighs. “I wish you could’ve been there.”

  I know she means the small wedding ceremony she and Ryan had while I was still locked up. “Me too, Gem. But, hey. I’m here now.”

  “Yes, you are.” She wraps her arms around me and hugs me as tightly as her belly will allow. “You’re welcome here any time, Tristan. You didn’t have to find a place right away.”