by Zoe Dawson
“Thorn,” she said again. “We need…we should—”
Yeah, he got it all right. They needed and should do anything they wanted, anything she wanted from him, give each other everything they had been missing. She was holding on to him like she was never going to let him go, had him up real close and personal. He could feel the rise and fall of her breasts on every breath, and so help him God, hoo-yah, it was fogging up his brain, giving him a bad case of tunnel vision, with her the only light at the end—those aching green eyes rimmed in thick dark lashes, so lush, her face devoid of any makeup. Stunning.
He was usually stronger.
But not today. Not when she’d vowed to save Echo and he was losing his cool and walking the knife’s edge between this breath and the next.
It was the brotherhood he could trust, but Alyssa was making some pretty powerful inroads.
Once, he told himself, kiss her once. Just one kiss to see him through.
It was asking for trouble, more trouble than he could handle—and he knew it.
But that wasn’t going to stop him.
Holding her gaze with his own, he lowered his mouth to hers and watched as her eyes drifted closed in readiness for his kiss. It was all so damn easy. He heard her hold her breath, felt the sensual heat of her draw him closer and closer—wild, dangerous butterfly.
He took his time, an eternity, barely touching his lips to hers, wanting to hold every breath of her inside himself, to savor every moment until he pulled away. In the past, he would have plundered and devoured, taken and demanded.
This was her fault. She was the one who was irresistible to him. It was all her, all the way, from the first crumbling of his outer wall of defense all the way through to his total surrender. He’d kissed more women than he could remember—so many lips, so many throwaway times.
But it wasn’t any contest. She was the new yardstick.
Just the smell of her was enough to get him hard, and the taste of her…
He opened his mouth wider, took more of her, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, and she was no damn help at all. She pressed herself against him, sliding her tongue along his and making a soft sound from deep in her throat that ran through him like fire, lighting him up from his brain to his balls.
The phone by the bedside rang and they broke apart as if they were both just waking from a dream. They blinked at each other and then Alyssa moved back. He reached for the phone. “We have your discharge papers ready for signature, Mr. Hunt.”
“Thank you,” he rasped.
He hung it up.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “I’ll just pretend it didn’t happen.”
He let her think what she wanted, but he wasn’t about to forget one moment of it. She was looking at his chest again. “The shirt’s not going to button itself,” he murmured, the smile on his face uncontrollable.
She raised her eyes to his and they were again a very snappy green. She reached out and he could feel her fingers shaking. Not as cool as she wanted him to think she was.
She focused on the buttons until she had them done up, each stroke of the back of her fingers a hot agony against his skin. Her blush was back.
He reached out and slipped his index finger under her chin. “How many men you been with, Alyssa?”
Startled, she blinked a couple of times, then her eyes narrowed. “What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one. I want to know.”
She raised her chin, her eyes snapping. God, was it wrong that he loved that about her? “It’s none of your goddamned business.”
That struck a nerve. Her defenses were definitely up.
“I’m sure you’ll need more than your fingers and toes to count your conquests.”
“If you want to know, just ask me. I’ll be honest.”
“I’m sure you will.” She reached for the sling, her movements jerky. Helping him get his arm settled inside it took only a few minutes, then she stepped back. “I’m going to forget all about all of this. You will, too.”
Not damn likely, he thought to himself. He was going to be spending the next few days with her, and even with the knowledge that he was already way past crossing the line, he couldn’t seem to pull himself together. She hadn’t protested too loudly until he touched that very exposed nerve.
For the first time in his life, he was fascinated by a woman, snagged so thoroughly he couldn’t seem to even preserve his own self. But she was worth the risk. All he had to do was minimize it. He’d like to tell himself it was all about getting her into bed. He wished it was about the physical. That would have been much easier to deal with.
Blue woke up, barely able to breathe around the pain in his head. He was under some heavy blankets on a flat, giving surface. He couldn’t move, he was so exhausted. He opened his eyes to the rough beams above him. He reached for the memory of how he was injured but discovered…nothing. There was a blank space where his memories should be. It hurt his head to try harder, so he drifted back toward sleep. He woke up again, this time from the sound of someone close to him. With an excruciating effort, he turned his head and wasn’t sure if he was seeing something real, or a gorgeous blonde angel minus the wings.
His beautiful savior had the kind of body with shapely curves that made him wonder and imagine what she’d look like naked, with nothing but his hands painting her supple, creamy looking skin with caresses. Then there was all that silky blonde hair the color of rich honey, those bright blue eyes that were full of life and light as if she glowed from within, and that sweet mouth of hers that looked like it would smile so guilelessly managed to fuel some fantasies of how soft and sensual her lips might feel sliding against his skin.
He pegged her at five foot five, a good eight inches shorter than himself, but the confident way she carried herself, combined with her angel beauty, made her seem larger than life.
She did look like an angel, but his thoughts were anything but saintly.
Her gaze locked on him and she smiled with a sweet, genuinely-happy-to-see-you grin curving her lips. “Hello,” she said in English, but with a slight Slavic accent. “My name is Elena Sokolov. You’re on my family’s farm.”
She had a bowl in her hand decorated with a navy-blue background, red fruit, and tan leaves. She knelt down with a smile. She had on a wool sweater that looked handmade, dark pants, decorative boots on her feet. Steam rose from the contents in the bowl. He groaned when he tried to focus, so he closed his eyes.
“What is your name?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t remember.” He realized that should upset him, but every time he tried to focus, his head would hurt even more, so he gave up.
She made a soft sound. “I’m so sorry. Hopefully, it will come back to you.” He felt the spoon against his lips and he opened his mouth. Rich, savory broth filled his mouth, thick on his tongue as he swallowed.
“That’s very good,” he said, opening his eyes and once again getting caught up in the beautiful angel who said her name was Elena. “Thank you for helping me. What happened to me? Do you know?”
“You must have been in some kind of battle. You’re obviously American and you’re wearing a uniform. I found you in a field and brought you here.”
Soldier? Battle? He reached for what he suspected he would have around his neck—his dog tags, but there was nothing there. “Did you take the small metal plates from around my neck?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I looked for identification, but there is nothing on your uniform. I suspect you are special forces. I removed it for safety. Your uniform and the one boot you were wearing are buried in the hay in the barn,” she said. “What would you like me to call you?”
He didn’t know why, but he said, “Blue. Call me Blue. Where exactly am I. What country?”
“Kirikhanistan. Boris and Natasha Golovkin run this area. If they find you here, I don’t know what they’ll do to you. Me, I will be executed for harborin
g the enemy.”
He tried to rise, but she soothed him back down. “Don’t worry. I am good at talking. They won’t suspect you. We will get you to safety, but first you must be able to move and walk. Your injury was severe.”
“All right. You saved my life and if I can’t trust you, who can I trust?” he murmured, losing the thread of the conversation as he floated toward sleep.
He felt her gently touching his head, then the feel of something wet against the side of his head. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he felt her wrap his head again. Then she pulled the blankets over him and tucked them around him.
“Rest now. You’re safe here.”
He fell back to sleep unable to hold onto anything concrete except for his beautiful and angelic rescuer.
6
Tank opened his eyes as the plane touched down in San Antonio. Home of the Alamo, the Spurs, and the famous Riverwalk. When they got to the hotel, it was also the host of Wurstfest, a ten-day salute to sausage.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I just don’t have any rooms left...” She looked down at her screen and back at him as if Alyssa didn’t exist. It was amazing that the cute, perky blonde could do anything but stare at Tank. This had been the fourth hotel they’d been to, and it seemed the city was booked to the rafters. “I doubt you’ll find anything available.”
“Are you sure? He’s a decorated Navy SEAL, just recently wounded. We’d prefer not to traipse around the city looking for accommodations,” Alyssa said. Tank leaned on the counter, which flexed his biceps and shoulder. Oh, she went there and played the wounded warrior card.
The clerk’s eyes went over his arm, then his chest, and she licked her lips, her eyes softening when she took in his sling. When they came back to his eyes, he winked, and she sighed. “I could put you in our Presidential Suite for the regular room rate plus a discount since you’re one of our service members. We can make an exception for you. The only problem is there’s only one king sized bed. The other rooms are being renovated soon and the beds and furnishings have been removed. Will that work for you?”
Alyssa hesitated in reaching for payment, but Tank beat her to it. He was sure she wasn’t thrilled to be in a room with him. She did promise the doctor to keep an eye on him, though. He was also not exactly sure about this. He wanted her, and he wasn’t used to denying himself what he wanted, especially women. Shockingly his last few times had been with Becca, but it had been sporadic and unsatisfying. The memory of sex with that sweet little cowgirl when he’d been helping out Wes “Cowboy” McGraw, his teammate in Cowboy’s home town of Reddick had completely faded. He wasn’t going to put any credence on the fact that he stopped enjoying recreational sex the moment he met Alyssa. Now he was again back in Texas. After all, they were here because of Echo. She was doing him a huge favor. The hotel clerk took his card and processed the payment. She then handed them two key cards. “It’s on the top floor and has an amazing view of San Antonio.”
“I’ve seen the view plenty of times,” Alyssa mumbled under her breath, too low for the clerk to hear.
She smiled. “Please enjoy your stay, Mr. Hunt, and on behalf of all the hotel staff and management, thank you for your service.”
They got into the elevator and Alyssa pushed the button. She was still standoffish with him, but he didn’t miss the way her eyes flashed each time the pretty clerk sighed over him. “Why didn’t you just whip off your shirt and let her see your impressive chest? I’m sure the tattoos and your heavy muscles would have gotten us an even better room.”
“Impressive chest?” he asked. He shifted and leaned against the wall. He wouldn’t admit it to her, but he was damn tired, the only thing keeping him going was the urgency to their being in San Antonio just over a day and a half after he’d been blown up in Kirikhanistan. He’d been flown to Germany, got stabilized there, his next stop, Coronado. It was to get to Echo, and if his sex appeal worked, he was going to use it. “Combine that with my gorgeous backside, I’d say you think I’m nicely put together.”
“I’m not commenting on any part of your anatomy.” She kept her eyes straight ahead, but there was that blush again. Damn if he didn’t like that cute bodily response to his attraction more and more. She was so self-possessed, but when it came to men, attraction, and letting down her hair, she was so damn uptight. Fuck, he wanted to loosen her up.
“Hell, woman. I’d whip out my dick if it got me a room. I want to get to Echo.”
Her lips compressed, and she gave him a scathing look. Score, that got her attention and at least a response that wasn’t monosyllabic. “That would have gotten you a room all right, but I suspect there would have been bars on it and would subject you to being someone’s bitch. The police frown on men whipping out their dicks in public.”
He chuckled at her tone and the way she said dicks. She was full of surprises, least of all the way she didn’t fawn all over him, get that dazed, I-want-to-fuck-you look he often got from his conquests as Alyssa described them. He was so primed for everything and anything she said because she gave him no quarter.
“I wouldn’t be anyone’s bitch, Alyssa. I’m an Alpha dog.” He stated it without an ounce of ego. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened to a private corridor. Down the end of the hall, the double doors to the suite were large and impressive. They exited the elevator and she followed behind him, both of them rolling their bags. He was tired, but eager to get to Lackland.
“We’ll drop off our stuff and head out immediately. Echo needs surgery and I don’t want to wait one more minute to get to him.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Fifteen minutes later they were back in the rental car and on their way to the base. “We’re heading directly to the Holland MWD Hospital. I’ve pulled strings with my commanding officer who has some chops in the service. It doesn’t hurt that I’m up for the head of surgery for the facility.”
“Doesn’t that mean you’ll have to be full-time Army?”
“I used to be active duty but transitioned to the reserves to have the time to open my clinic.”
“Is that the real reason or did something else happen to sour you on active duty?”
“I got out after my separation from my ex-husband,” she admitted. “I was tired and drained.”
“You have to do what’s best for you.”
“Tell that to my dad,” she said softly, then looked embarrassed at the outburst.
Not having anyone in his life who pushed him, the parental thing was alien to him. He spent a lot of his time alone or with his brothers, but all the drive to succeed came from inside him. He was surprised that Alyssa took direction from anyone, but it was true that people were influenced by their parents. He’d just wanted to get as far away from his own as he could.
“Your dad?”
“I’d rather not go into that.”
“But you’re from San Antonio?”
“Yes.”
“And your dad still lives here?”
“Yes. Are you done, Oprah?”
He held up his hands. Getting to know her was going to be a work in progress. She glanced at him several times like she wanted to question him, too. But apparently, she was better at refraining even in the wake of her curiosity.
But then she smashed that barrier and said, “Tattoos are very personal, so you might not want to answer.” He didn’t say anything, and she continued. “I figured out the XXVI one is twenty-six and that’s the atomic number of iron. What does the one on your shoulder stand for?”
“The ones on my impressive body?”
She snorted, giving him a half-amused, half-irritated look. “Yeah.”
“The one on my shoulder was my sister’s name, Jelsena. The roses are because she loved them.”
“Was?”
“She died in a car accident when I was twelve. I was in the car and my dad ran a red light. He was drunk off his good-for-nothing ass.”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard on you and your brothers.�
�
He nodded. “I don’t talk much about the accident. Not even with my brothers.” Jelsena had died in the back seat with him sitting right next to her. He’d watched the life drain out of her, and he’d never stopped blaming his father.
“Maybe you should. Maybe they need closure as much as you did before you got the tattoos.”
It had never occurred to him that his brothers would hurt, not only at his silence about their sister’s death, but being so young, didn’t remember her life. Alyssa had a way of just cutting through the bullshit in his head. Maybe he should talk to his brothers about her.
They arrived at the hospital, and when they walked in, Tank stopped dead. In the lobby were all his teammates with the exception of Blue, an absence Tank felt down to his bones. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Alyssa called and said that you were coming here, and Echo is part of our team. We weren’t going to let anyone make decisions about one of our team members without us having a say.”
He took the time to look at each one of his teammates. Ruckus, Bowie Cooper, their leader, their LT who took the brunt of the failed mission. Who had lost a man in battle even though he’d argued vehemently against separating their unit. His decisions cost men’s lives, but he bore that burden as he did everything else with a strong sense of duty and a healthy dose of conscience.
Kid Chaos, Ashe Wilder, might joke, but that clown went from a crazy, funny bastard to a dead-eyed killer in a heartbeat.
Cowboy, Wes McGraw, their Chief and touchstone. He was the rock that kept them moving, kept them honest and knit them together like a well-oiled machine.
Scarecrow, Arlo Porter, a charming bastard, but silent and the deadliest son-of-a-bitch with a knife Tank had ever seen, bar none.
Wicked, Orion Cross, calculating and strong both mentally and physically. He was a supernatural force to be reckoned with. He disappeared like a ghost and was as calculating as a serial killer.
Hollywood, Jude Lock, a smooth ladies man who turned into the enemy’s worst nightmare, as deadly with any weapon as he was with his hands.
