Tank

by Erin Bevan

  He lowered his hand on the door and stepped slightly to

  the side. Her escape route clear. “Annie, please stay. Your

  face.”

  She held a hand to her cheek.

  That cop should be in prison for what he’d done, and Tank urged to bring retaliation on the man. Instead, gently, he raised his hands and rested them on her shoulders. Her face contorted in agony as she winced. He eased his grip even lighter and stared her straight in her eyes. Green irises glanced back at him, surrounded by little red veins, her left eyelid daring more and more to close shut. The beautiful, smiling waitress he met last week seemed a distant memory to the one he saw now.

  “You have a place to stay if you want. You can stay here as long as you’d like.”

  “You don’t even know me. Why are you doing this?”

  The million-dollar question. The pull he felt toward her didn’t make sense, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore it. He had to protect her.

  “Because I hate seeing innocent people abused, and I promise you, if you stay here, you’ll never be a victim again.”

  Her body tensed under his gentle hold, and her gaze danced around the room.

  “Besides,” he added, nodding to Alfred, “we have the best guard dog in the woods.”

  She let out a small chuckle. The sound of her slight happiness echoed through his walls, affecting him more than it should. The smile wasn’t much, but regardless, laughing was good.

  “Okay.” She eased under his grip, pushed back a tear, and glanced down at his dog. “But on one condition.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?” He placed a finger under her chin, easing her head up. Scared she might pull back, he made sure his touch was feather light. He wanted her to look at him. Trust him. She needed to see he wasn’t going to hurt her, ever.

  To his surprise, she didn’t pull back but glanced up and stared.

  “You tell me your real name.”

  A smile touched his lips. Even in turmoil, she still had her spirit.

  “Tyler. Tyler Wilde.”

  She slowly extended her hand. “Tyler Wilde, I’m Annie Carter. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”

  He took her small hand in his. “Pleasure’s all mine, Annie.”

  Her lip raised, and the smile met her good eye. His heart pulsed as an even stronger and overwhelming urge to guard her took over.

  “Get comfortable.” He took her bag from her, placed it on the coffee table, then picked up the towel off the floor and set it back on her shoulders. “Take a seat on the couch. I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you some dry clothes.” He turned down the hall and into his room.

  Nearing his dresser, he stopped and stared at the pile of letters on top. Every single one of them left unopened, all from his dad. A heavy reminder of why he was in Black Widow stared back at him with the untouched letters. No one deserved to live in fear.

  Especially not Annie.

  He grabbed a fresh pair of pants and a shirt from a drawer then took the pile of letters and shoved them in the empty spot the clothes had been.

  When he entered the living room, Alfred jumped on the couch and rested his head on her lap. “Al, leave her alone.”

  Annie smiled. “He’s fine. I’ve never had a pet before.”

  “Really? Never?”

  “No. My mom was allergic, and I didn’t want to bring an animal into my home with Duke because I was afraid of…well.” She pointed to her face. “Ya know.”

  “You were afraid he would abuse the animal.”

  “Yeah.” She glanced down at his lab and lazily scratched his black ears.

  “That’s how I got this rascal here.” He sat on the other side of Alfred. “I was out for a ride one day and just happened to see the owner mistreating him. I pulled over, asked the man to stop.”

  “What happened?”

  “The man wanted to make something of it. I didn’t. I saw he had an empty box of beer by his lawn chair, so I told him I’d give him two hundred dollars for the dog. He could have a pretty good weekend on two hundred dollars’ worth of beer.”

  Annie rubbed down Al’s back and glanced at him. “You paid two hundred dollars for him?”

  “Yep. Best two hundred I’ve ever spent.” He looked her in the eyes. “No one deserves to be abused, Annie. Not even a dog.”

  She turned her head down to face her lap. “I know,” she replied, her voice low.

  The moment was tense. Too tense. He wanted her to feel safe, not uncomfortable. “Here. I brought you some clothes.” Handing her the pile, he suggested, “Why don’t you go take a bath? I can give you some frozen peas for your eye, and you can relax for a little bit.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude. You’ve done more than enough. I’ll try to figure something out tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? She couldn’t leave. Not until they had a proper plan in place. “Annie, no one will hurt you here. I promise. You can relax.” Gently, he reached for her hand, and squeezed. Was he touching her too much? Last thing he wanted her to think was that he was looking to get something from this situation.

  He pulled his hand back. “There is a lock on the door, and you can even take Alfred with you as a guard if you’d like.”

  She nodded. “A bath does sound good. Are you sure?”

  “One thing you’ll learn about me, Annie, I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

  “Okay, I think I will then, but you can keep Alfred.”

  “Probably for the best. He has a bad habit of sniffing butts.”

  She let out another giggle, the pleasant sound unusual in his small home. Something he could definitely get used to.

  “I’ll get your peas.”

  He placed a fresh towel, washcloth, and a package of frozen vegetables by the bathtub then stepped out into the hall to give her some space. “Soap, shampoo, everything’s in there. You think you’ll need anything else?”

  She stood in the middle of the bathroom; her arms wrapped around her torso, and stared at the tub. “No, I think I’m fine. I must say your tub is huge.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a big guy. Gramps was, too.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” She gave him a soft smile.

  He stared down at the ground and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll…uh…I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Come on, boy.” Alfred stood beside her in the bathroom, not moving. “Al, let’s go.” The lab stared up at Annie, wagging his tail.

  “Go on, boy. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Reluctantly, his dog trudged out of the bathroom.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” he said, trying to play off Alfred’s disloyal behavior before he closed the door. Standing on the other side of the threshold, he heard the sound of water slapping the porcelain tub. Al followed him into the living room and jumped on the sofa.

  He knew what had gotten into Alfred. There was a good-looking woman getting naked just on the other side of the door. “You hound dog.” He scratched the pup’s ears.

  Mercy.

  What had he gotten himself into?

  Annie slipped off her rain soaked clothes and winced as she eased into the tub. Bruises peppered her arms and legs, some old, some new. Her head pounded, the back of her neck burned from the chain digging into her skin, and the vision in her left eye blurred. Yet, none of those things were her biggest concern.

  Her most sizeable concern was the man sitting in the living room, watching television. Big didn’t even describe him. Large, giant, massive…she wasn’t sure which adjective fit him best.

  Looking at him would have even the bravest of men turning to run. Yet, under all that muscle, he seemed kind, and the lightness with which he touched her, she could even dare to say gentle.

  You sound like a Disney princess. Might as well break out in song.

  Major difference, though, Tyler was no beast.

  Still, kind and gentle didn’t justify t
he fact she sat in his bathtub. She was naked in another man’s house that wasn’t her fiancé’s, and she hadn’t even known the man’s real name until ten minutes ago. What was wrong with her?

  She reached for the shampoo; a sharp pierce ricocheted through her ribs making her want to cry out in pain. The gold of her ring clanged against the porcelain tub as she gripped the edge and willed the pain to go away, praying nothing was cracked or broken. An intense pain coursed through her when she’d bent to pick up her purse, and a slight twinge had pinched her side when she laughed and shook Tyler’s hand, but this pain from her twisting was almost unbearable. She must have hit the coffee table harder than she remembered.

  After a couple of minutes, when the pain finally subsided, she decided against washing her hair. The sharp, severe discomfort gave her the answer she’d been seeking. She stared at her hand, the giant diamond sparkling back at her. Nothing like the grim life she lived now. Loving Duke had come easy, and so had accepting his proposal. But unlike the glimmer in her ring, their love faded. Taking shelter with Tyler meant living, and facing Duke would be her death.

  And despite the nightmare she’d been living for the past six months, something in the big man’s eyes gave her hope. Hope for a better life than the one she currently had. There had to be more.

  Sinking lower in the water, she slipped off her ring and laid it on the tub, praying Tyler’s behavior wasn’t a facade like Duke’s had been when they first started dating.

  Chapter Six

  Tank sipped from his water bottle as he sank deeper on the couch, staring at the television. The show he watched flicked on and off as the storm picked up strength.

  “Shoot.” He clicked the power button on his remote and tossed it on the cushion next to him.

  One contingency with living in the middle of nowhere, he had to get used to losing connection to the outside world. Normally, such nuisances didn’t bother him, but tonight proved different. He needed something to get his mind off the naked woman in his house. The incredibly attractive and vulnerable naked woman.

  He rubbed his hands over his face. Who the hell was he kidding? Even if she were in a position to date him, she shouldn’t; he was damaged goods.

  The bathroom door creaked open and steam billowed into the hall. Annie walked out in his clothes, her curves swallowed by the extra material. She held a rag to her cheek and the bag of mushy peas in her hand.

  The fat rock from her finger was gone.

  Stepping all over the bottom of his pants, she shuffled closer. The closer she got, the harder he found it to breathe. Gorgeous. Even with all of her bruises.

  He placed the bottle on the table and stood. “Sorry those are too big. That’s all I had.”

  “It’s okay.” She handed him the peas. “I couldn’t roll them up. It hurts too much to bend.”

  The bag suffered from his grip, the pressure threatening to pop the top of the plastic open. “You probably had a surge of adrenaline getting you through, and now it’s starting to wear off. Where are you hurting?”

  “My side. I fell on the coffee table on the way down.” She glanced to the floor.

  He motioned to the rag she used to cover her cheek. “Is your face bleeding again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Here.” He led her to the couch. “Sit down. I’ll get some supplies.”

  Slowly, she placed a hand on the armrest and sat. Alfred scooted next to her, licking her palm.

  “You want me to push him off you?”

  “No.” She smiled at the furry suck up. “He’s fine.”

  Tank took the pea mush, stomped toward the kitchen, and tossed the melting bag in the trash. He reached in the freezer for an ice pack then gathered a first aid kit from the upper cabinet, along with a fresh towel from the drawer. Before he walked back into the living room, he took a deep breath and regained his composure.

  She deserved more. Better than him, and a hell of a lot better than what she got from that bastard Duke, for damn sure.

  Sitting the supplies on the couch, he bent down in front of her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to roll up these pants first. Okay?” He glanced at her for approval.

  She simply nodded. Placing her foot on his knee, he rolled the cotton fabric of his sweat pants up. Red toes stared back at him. A small tattoo of a crescent moon and three stars graced her ankle. An urge to keep rolling, explore the rest of her leg, burned inside of him. Instead, he removed his hands and rolled up the other side.

  “That’s a nice tattoo.” He placed her foot on the ground and busied himself with the supplies.

  “Thanks.”

  “What does it mean?” He ripped open a few gauze strips and doused them in peroxide.

  “The stars represent my dad, my mom, and me. And for the moon, my dad and I, we used to star gaze at night. The tattoo reminds me of a time when things were different, better.”

  “You said your dad died, right?”

  “Yeah. A few years ago.” She wrung the fabric of his too big shirt in her free hand.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” She gave him a sad smile. “What about your parents? Where are they?”

  “My mom lives just outside of Shreveport, and my dad, well…he’s…he’s dead, too.”

  At least in all ways that mattered.

  “Oh,” her voice wavered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, things happen.” He didn’t want to talk about his father. Not yet. Not ever if he could help it.

  “May I?” On his knees, he held up his hand and reached for the rag on her face.

  She let him take the cloth. The cut began at the top of her cheekbone and stopped near her nose. Blood oozed out of the slit. He applied the gauze, careful not to apply too much pressure. “I’ll do my best, but you may need stitches.”

  “I can’t go to a hospital. He’ll know.” She squeezed his wrist and stopped him. “Please,” she pleaded. “Please, do your best.”

  Her fear gripped him. Annie reached him in a way no one else ever had. But he knew that the first day he saw her little toes dip into the water. Beauty was special. Always had been.

  “Of course.” He looked down at his kit, the emotion in her eyes too frightening to face. Terrified, nervous, two feelings he promised himself he would never feel again, and he’d see to it she didn’t either. He placed a butterfly bandage against her cheek, and grabbed the icepack. “I’d like to put this around your side if that’s okay with you.”

  “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

  He grabbed the clean washcloth and unfolded it. “I’ll put this against your skin, then the ice pack and wrap it up, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Where exactly is your side hurting?”

  “Right here, on my ribs.” Slowly, she raised the shirt and winced, stopping just under her breast. A small freckle dotted her smooth skin, right below where her womanly curves began.

  Mercy.

  His hands shook. “Okay.” He placed the cloth on her skin then dropped it. “Shoot.” Bending down, he reached for the rag at the same time she did, their hands grazing again. A tingle seared through his shaky fingers as they each let out a nervous giggle.

  She pulled her hand away and sat back upright. Her face contorted in agony. “Oh, man, that hurt.”

  “Are you okay?” He scanned over her. “You shouldn’t bend. Let me take care of you.”

  She bit her no longer trembling bottom lip and nodded. He’d like to think her trembles subsided because she felt safe. In reality, it was probably because she wasn’t wet and cold anymore.

  “I’ll try again.” He straightened the cloth back out, held the rag against her skin, then the pack. “Can you hold this here while I wrap you up? Does it hurt too much?”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  She held the pack while he took the bandage and circled her ribs a few times, careful not to let his hands graze her breasts, before securing it to her
body.

  “There, now.” He rubbed his hands against his jeans to try and secure his shake. His traitorous body acted as if it had never touched a woman before. Although he never had touched one quite like her.

  “Here.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts and reached for the water bottle. “Take this.”

  “Why?”

  Fishing a few pain relievers from his medical supplies, he handed her a couple of pills. “They’ll help the pounding your head is sure to be experiencing.”

  “What is this?” Holding the tablets in her hand palm up, her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the medicine.

  “Just a pain reliever. Here’s the bottle.” He handed her the plastic so she could check the capsules out for herself. Her skepticism of his behavior came as no surprise. Knowing how abusers worked, it was a shock she had trusted him this far. In the beginning, abusers were charming, nice, doing everything they could to hide their true colors. But he was no abuser, and hopefully she could sense that.

  “I can go out and get a new bottle if you’d like. I’ll leave everything in the packaging and you can open it for yourself.”

  A crack of lightning lit up the night sky followed by a rumble of thunder. She glanced out the window. “You’d…you’d go out in this storm, all the way to town for a new bottle of medicine?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I would. For you.”

  Her chest rose. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

  “No need to say anything.” He shot to his feet. “I’ll get my keys.”

  “No.” Annie grabbed his wrist.

  Electricity, as intense as the lightning dancing around his house, ignited his arm. She had to stop touching him or he might burn up. He wanted to pull away, but the feeling was too good, preventing him from doing so. Besides, his personal reasons why he didn’t want her touching him had more to do with his shame. It had nothing to do with her. That itself was the problem. He’d begun to want her too much in the short span of what? A week? If he didn’t watch himself, she would think that was all he was after. She would label him no better than the scum she left.

  “I’ll take these. Thank you.” Annie tossed the medicine in her mouth and washed them down with water.