by Zoe Dawson
Just maybe he needed more than the brotherhood.
Because of Alyssa, he couldn’t seem to get his detachment back. Who was he kidding? He’d never had it with her. The way he’d left her haunted him and would haunt him for a long time. He didn’t know if it was guilt or regret, but his throat closed up every time that image took shape in his mind, and the hollow feeling in his chest spread a little more. It had, without question, been one terrible way of saying goodbye.
He had never, ever thought of himself as a quitter. If he had, he would have rung that damn bell and washed out of BUD/S. But right this moment, that’s what he was. He’d go into a million battles without fear, but the tenderness and care of one woman sent him into a tailspin. He had been a temporary lover. That’s how he defined himself. A good fuck with nothing to give. Sex. Hot and dirty.
But now he wanted to be something more. If he didn’t overcome this fear, what would that make him now that he’d acknowledged it?
A coward.
Plain and simple.
Navy SEALs weren’t cowards.
Plain and simple.
After his leave was up, he went back to active duty. He made sure he said all the things the therapist wanted to hear. He was still working out shit himself. Jordan had an appointment with another oncologist. He hadn’t been happy with anyone so far. Tank was still struggling with the fact that Jordan hadn’t told him something so important, but he was willing to fight alongside him against this disease.
His own grief, he buried. He had to have his mind in the game or he was going to end up dead. He arrived at the hospital, and when he rounded a corner, he ran right into a candy striper. He grabbed her arms and steadied her, ready for an apology.
“Becca?” His jaw dropped open and he gaped.
“Thorn. Hi.”
“You work here?”
“I volunteer. What are you doing here?”
He was still trying to get his head around the pretty pink princess working at the hospital, emptying bedpans and playing fetch. “My brother’s sick.”
“Dan or Jordan?”
Again, Tank was floored. He had no idea Becca even remembered their names. Something else that he had overlooked.
“Jordan.”
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. What does he have?”
“Maybe cancer. They’re still doing a lot of tests.”
Her face twisted into a horrified grimace. She was sure going to have to work on her bedside manner.
“Look, my daddy’s a patron of this hospital. I know the best oncologist. You should get an appointment with her. I can pull strings. She’s had a fabulous success rate. Let me get you her information. Where are you going? I can bring it by.”
He told her where they would be. “What has gotten into you?”
“You mean me volunteering?”
He nodded.
“It’s your fault.”
“How is it my fault?”
“I saw the work you were doing for the MWD charity and I read up on SEALs. I was so impressed by everything you had accomplished. I looked at my life. All I cared about were cars, partying and shopping. I could do so much more. I was a spoiled brat, but now I’m taking an interest in my daddy’s company. I think I almost gave him a heart attack. Philanthropy, I think, will suit me. But before my daddy starts letting me fundraise, he wants to make sure this isn’t a whim. So, I’m proving it.” She grinned. “At least the uniform is pink.”
He chuckled.
She reached out and ran her hand down his arm. “I know it’s over between us. But we’re just friends with benefits anyway. And, to be honest, I want someone long-term and committed.”
Did this little bit of a thing just blindside him? He was starting to think the same thing, but with the obstacles in their way, he wasn’t sure how it would resolve with Alyssa.
She patted his cheek. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”
True to her word, Becca showed up with a card and information. She flushed when she met Dan and there was a decidedly just as interested look in his eyes. But then it was gone, and he thought maybe he was seeing things.
When he walked into the ready room after getting a summons from Ruckus, he found it empty. His LT sat at the head of the table on his laptop. “Hey, boss? Any word on Blue?”
“No, not yet. Intel in that area has been difficult at best, but the brass isn’t giving up. As soon as we have a location, we’re going in to get him out.”
“Copy that. Where’s everyone else?”
“They’re not coming. This is between you and me.”
“Oh. Okay. What’s up?”
“You’ve gotten orders to report to the kennel to start training with your new dog. Are you ready for that?”
“I got cleared, LT.”
“Is that what I asked you, Tank?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you ready?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why?”
“Echo tore me up. I know I’m not supposed to treat him like a pet—” He looked away, his voice thick. He blinked rapidly and knew the man he’d been before he’d met Alyssa would have been embarrassed as hell showing this type of emotion, but fuck it. He loved that damn dog.
“Fuck that shit.” Ruckus was just as moved. “He was part of our team, an integral part. If he hadn’t taken that insurgent down, we wouldn’t be here right now. The EOD guys found a long line of explosives buried in the ground. It would have taken most of us out if he’d detonated those explosives. It would have been a massacre. They were waiting for us.”
“An ambush. That’s exactly what it felt like.”
“We have reason to believe that there’s a leak. The Kirikhan government is as corrupt as I’ve ever seen, but they’ve been straight shooters with us. They were the ones who suggested it was on their end. So, any plans we have won’t be going through them. We have free rein to work this as we see fit. After all, it’s to their benefit if we take out the Golovkins.”
“Fuckers.”
“Yeah, but that’s what we have to work with. So, getting back to what we were talking about—”
“Am I ready?”
“Before you answer, let me say that we value having a dog handler on this team. It might bump you out if you decide not to take on that duty again. But, more importantly, you excel at that job better than anyone I’ve ever seen. You and Echo worked in tandem. He and you are both being decorated for saving us. I got the word you’re receiving the Navy Cross and Echo the K9 Medal of Courage. Congratulations, Tank.”
“Thank you, sir, but Echo is the real hero here. His instincts were on point.”
“Have you thought about adopting him?”
“Hell, yeah, but with my deployments, it wouldn’t be fair to him.” It hurt like hell, but Tank had to let Echo go to a good home where he would get the love and attention he deserved.
Ruckus handed him the orders and Tank rose. “One more thing. I’m not blind. Is there something I should know about Dr. Alyssa St. James?”
“Not yet, but if there is, I’ll let you know.”
“Tank.”
He looked at Ruckus and finally gave in. “It’s like a Dana thing,” he said and Ruckus’s expression smoothed out. His boss had fallen head over heels for a tough, spunky reporter during a harrowing jungle adventure who didn’t take any crap from his intimidating LT. Tank was in the exact same boat.
“I can look into it for you.”
Tank nodded and left the room.
He immediately headed over to the kennel, deciding that getting back in the saddle again was what he had to do. He was just gun-shy because it had hurt so much to lose Echo. It would be difficult to forget the years they’d been together and the work they had done to save lives. Tank also didn’t want to go to another squad. He didn’t think he would fare well with a different leader.
He reported to the kennel master who took his orders and told him what kennel the dog was in. H
e said, “Her name is Bronte. She’s a three-year-old and well-tested. You’ve been especially selected for her, Petty Officer. She’s an exemplary animal, agile, fast, strong, and hard-hitting. Alpha all the way, just like you. But where she excels is her detection capabilities.”
“Thank you, Master Sergeant.”
Tank headed to the kennel, and once inside, he moved down the row of metal pens. A dog started barking the moment he entered, and he followed the sound right to Bronte. She was a rich mahogany with black-tipped hairs and a black mask and ears. She regarded him with curious but guarded brown almond-shaped eyes. He could tell she was intelligent.
He squatted down and she kept her ground, but he was prepared for her to be a bit aggressive. “Easy, girl,” he said. She didn’t know him yet. “Bronte, sit.” She ignored him at first, but then he said it in a firmer voice, but kept his words modulated.
She sat down. He opened the door, watching her intently, but she sat calmly. He gave her a moment to get used to him, then bent down to snap on her leash. He felt as if he was betraying Echo’s trust but had to school himself to remember that Echo was retired. He and Bronte would have to become pals, find their footing.
A female dog, he thought. The universe was laughing at him.
He took her out to the training field and started putting her through her paces, but she balked and acted confused at his commands. The same thing happened day after day. Maybe she wasn’t the right match for him. Finally, he got frustrated, and without warning, she lunged at him and grazed the back of his hand. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but he’d been fast enough to avoid too much damage. A Malinois could break bones if she really latched on.
He put her down to the ground and immediately to her back. He said nothing, letting her understand that he was the boss. She struggled at first, and he wrestled with her until she was still. As soon as she accepted his authority, he let her up. He took her back to the kennel and decided to hit the vet clinic. They could take care of his hand.
He walked inside, and a woman was standing with her back to him. “Excuse me,” he started. She stiffened and turned around. It had been weeks since he’d last seen her, but the impact of her beauty hit him between the eyes. Every damn time.
“Tank?” she asked, then she saw his bleeding hand.
“I got bit.”
“Come on back. I can handle that for you.”
He followed her through the clinic into a treatment room with a table, cabinets, and several chairs.
“Let me see it,” she demanded, gripping his wrist and dragging him to the sink. Pushing his other hand out of the way, she lifted the paper towel. There was a nasty gash across the back of his hand where Bronte’s teeth had scored him. She carefully turned his hand over and saw another gash.
He was studying her face, her touch electric, but she was all business—or so she seemed.
“This must hurt,” she murmured, turning his hand back over.
He held her gaze for a moment, then smiled. “Like a bitch.”
“You decided to take on another dog?”
“We’re getting acquainted.” His focus this moment wasn’t on Bronte. His eyes went over Alyssa in a slow slide.
“The gash is deep, but luckily, you don’t need stitches.” She let go of his hand and opened a cabinet. “I want to clean this with some antiseptic first,” she said, digging through the well-stocked cabinet. She thoroughly irrigated the wound, the water in the sink turning red.
“That should do it,” she said, setting the bottle down. Her shoulder brushing against his arm, she tore open a sterile pack and blotted the wounds, then pressed fresh dry pads against them to staunch the renewed bleeding. He was keenly aware of how close she was, of the warmth of her arm against his, and he closed his eyes, the heat from her body igniting his blood.
She glanced at him, giving him an encouraging look, but there was sizzle in her eyes. Her touch was robbing him of common sense. Her closeness overwhelmed his senses, and she swallowed hard, obviously struggling against her attraction to him.
His hand jerked when she touched his palm, and as she wrapped his hand with gauze, he said, “I’ve missed you.”
She stilled and turned toward him, searching his eyes. “I missed you, too.”
Before he could even think what to say next, she grabbed his face and her mouth was hot and urgent against his. The bolt of pure, raw sensation knocked the wind right out of him. Tank shuddered, and he widened his mouth against hers, feeding on the desperation that poured back and forth between them. She made another wild sound and clutched at him, the movement welding their bodies together like two halves of a whole, and he nearly lost it right then, only remembering that they were in a public place, tucked away, but still not exactly the best timing.
He broke the kiss, trying to regain some control. He tucked her head against his neck, holding her with every ounce of strength he had, fighting for every breath. She clutched him tighter as if she was trying to climb right inside him, and any connection he had with reason shattered into a thousand pieces.
The feel of her heat against him was too much, and he clenched his jaw, turning his head against hers. His face contorting from the surge of desire, he caught her around the hips, welding her roughly against him. God, he needed this—the heat of her, the weight of her. He needed her.
9
For what seemed like an eternity, they stood together, holding each other. Finally, Alyssa moved and closed the treatment room door. She leaned back against it, her face thoughtful. “We have to talk about this…this thing between us.”
“Attraction, Alyssa.” She blushed, and he wanted to take her home, strip her down and see if that blush suffused her whole body. “This isn’t exactly the best situation here,” he said.
“No,” she made a soft, half-amused, half-exasperated sound. “What do you want to do about it? I intend to talk to my commanding officer today about our options.”
“It’s a good thing we’re in a public place or I’d show you exactly what I want to do about it.” He sighed. “I’ve already mentioned it to my LT. He’s looking into it.”
She nodded looking pleased. “I’m not naïve. I’m aware of what kind of man you are.”
“What kind is that?”
“Temporary,” she said and looked away. “This is pretty complicated, Tank.”
“Maybe I want to find out where this goes, and temporary isn’t factoring into this thing we have.” He crossed the room and cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. “I can’t get you off my mind. I’ve tried. I told myself this was too crazy, too difficult. Doesn’t do any good. I want you…for more.” He leaned his forehead against hers. Exhaling heavily, Tank drew her fully against him, resting his jaw against her head as he began slowly running his hand up and down her spine. Alyssa tightened her arms around him, and he could detect a light quivering in her as though she had the same feelings. He wanted to get her take on it. It floored him that he even cared what her opinion was. He usually dictated his terms in a no-nonsense way. The fact that he’d held off getting her into bed said volumes to him. He didn’t want to mess this up with sex, but he also knew he wanted more than friendship from her. “Maybe you should tell me your concerns.”
Shifting his hold, he cradled her head firmly against him and brushed a gentling kiss against her temple. He didn’t know what in the hell was going to happen. And if he’d realized anything when it came to Alyssa, it was that he couldn’t let it go and he wasn’t sure how to move forward or even if they could legally do so.
A snatch of conversation sounded out in the hall and Alyssa drew him away from the door. “To say that you’ve caught me off-guard is an understatement. But this is probably not the best place for a private conversation. Can we meet somewhere later?” When he opened his mouth, she said hurriedly, “Preferably in a public place.”
“You don’t trust me?”
She looked at him for only a split second, then she covered his mouth in
a kiss that was raw and honest. Tank went still. Then with a soft exhalation, he yielded, opening his mouth over hers as she clutched at him. He slid his hand along her jaw, a fever of emotion sluicing through him.
Dragging her mouth away, she trailed a string of kisses down his neck, then caught his head again and gave him another hot, wet kiss. His breathing ragged, he tightened his arms around her. She drew back and said solemnly, “No, I don’t trust myself.”
He smiled. “You’re killing me, babe.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual. Now get out of here before we get into any more trouble. I have a feeling that’s your middle name.”
“Just as soon as you tell me where you want to meet?”
“How about the coffee shop across from my practice?”
“Roger that. Time?”
“Eighteen hundred hours?”
He nodded. “I’ll see you then.”
He left the clinic, his thoughts and body in turmoil. He glanced to the practice field, toward the kennel, and his chest felt hollow. He still couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal he’d experienced while working Bronte. She was the most difficult dog he’d ever met in the program. When he’d trained Echo, they had been like one, handler and dog, moving in tandem. He trusted the master sergeant. The kennel master knew what he was doing, and Tank respected him. But maybe he’d been wrong assigning Bronte to him. A hard, hollow ball of longing lodged in his chest, taking up valuable air space, and he scowled and did his best to smash it with a mental mallet. He and Echo were no longer a team. His buddy was fighting his way back from a debilitating wound. He’d have to rehabilitate, heal, learn to walk again. He would go up for adoption. That was the reality Tank had to accept.
