by Zoe Dawson
Alyssa stared across the ballroom, a fierce longing clenching around her heart, a longing that splintered and fractured when she saw the tight set of his shoulders. She was a fool, but she couldn’t seem to let him go.
She glanced at Hollywood, and it was quite clear he hadn’t missed a beat. He released her immediately. “Go,” he said softly.
Uncaring of who she bumped into, she fought her way through the swarm on the dance floor, her heart hammering frantically in her chest, urgency pressing in on her. Breaking through the last of the crowd, she dodged a scattering of people who stood watching, finally reaching Tank at the door.
Realizing this was crazy and forbidden, she couldn’t seem to help it. Her voice breathy, she said, “Tank.”
He stopped and turned, his face set, the lines around his mouth white with tension.
Catching a ragged breath, Alyssa tried to keep her voice from breaking, tried to hang on to some form of control.
“You’re not going to leave without giving me at least one dance. That would be what a gentleman would do. And I think we already established you aren’t that civilized.”
He stared down at her; then he looked away and swallowed hard, his grip almost crushing as he took her hand. Without saying a word, he laced his fingers tightly through hers and led her back onto the dance floor.
Insulated by the crowd, he drew her against him, the weight of his hand against her back pressing her deeper into his embrace. Her forehead nestled against his jaw. Alyssa closed her eyes and cupped the back of his neck, trying to hold in all the emotions rolling through her. Inhaling unevenly, Tank rested his head against hers, his arm tightening around her as they began moving to the music, drawn into the intimacy of their own private space. The sensual, intimate tempo floated around them, the power and eloquence of the lyrics expressing the soul of their own private longing.
She could pretend for this one moment in time that she was free to be with this contrary man, free to enjoy this contact even though it was prohibited for them to take it any further.
Easing into his embrace, she looked at him, her eyes taking in every detail of his face as if she’d never seen him before, her longing a great fountain inside her. She smiled, sure her gaze revealing everything she was feeling. She didn’t have a very good poker face.
“You did a great job,” he murmured. “It’s a success. I’m proud to be working with you on this charity, Alyssa.”
Her first name on his lips jarred her. He usually called her Doc, but she couldn’t be sorry he’d used her given name. It sounded good in that deep baritone.
“Thank you. It wouldn’t have been such a success if it wasn’t for you, your amazing Echo, your teammates and their wives and girlfriend.”
Moving to the rhythm of the music, he stared down at her, his gaze dark, intense, unwavering, searching. Tightening his hold on her hand, he pressed her knuckles against his mouth, his face the softest she’d ever seen it. Drawing a deep breath, he drew her closer, urging her head against his jaw. Then he tucked their joined hands against his chest, letting the melody and lyrics enclose them in their own cocoon. “You’re the driving force behind it, and our guys overseas are reaping the benefits of having you behind them, supplying them and their dogs. It means more than you know. On their behalf, I thank you.”
The music segued right into another slow one, and they continued to move through the semidarkness, letting the music move them, oblivious to everything and everyone. Alyssa never wanted it to end. He was a wonderful dancer—it surprised her that such a big man could be so light on his feet. Moving with him was pure pleasure. She loved the physical closeness, the feeling of being enveloped in his strength, the feel of his body moving against hers. Moving toward space at the back of the ballroom, where the shadows made for near-complete darkness, Tank tightened his hold and brushed his mouth against her temple, a trace of amusement in his gruff voice. “Thank God the military made me learn how to dance.”
Her smile came right from the core of her. Alyssa lifted her head and looked at him. “Dancing and combat? Hmmm, real life skills.”
He gave her an irresistible half grin, white teeth flashing, an intimate sparkle in his eyes. “Stealth requires finesse,” he said huskily.
Feeling as if she could float if he let go of her, she held his gaze, smiling up at him. “Okay, twinkle toes.”
He slid his hand down her back, molding her hips snugly against him, the grin and the glint intensifying. “What the hell? No one’s ever called me that with a straight face.”
She laughed and hugged him, hating that this couldn’t be real and knowing she was indulging herself.
Tank’s half grin took on a special warmth, the sparkle in his eyes softening into a steady gaze that was intimate, intoxicating and very sensual. His voice was soft and gruff when he murmured, “This is damned inconvenient. It was easier when you were giving me a hard time.”
Alyssa’s smile softened as she gazed up at him, something warm and poignant unfolding in her. “Yes,” she murmured. Finally, she said, “Tank—”
His cell chimed, and his wasn’t the only one that went off. Every single member of his team received a call at the same time.
He pulled out his phone and his mouth tightened. “I’ve got to go.”
She grasped his arm. “We should really talk—”
“Later, babe. I’ve got to go now.”
She nodded as he and his team members filed out of the door. This was an emergency, which meant something in his world wasn’t right. That meant danger, combat, and distance. She had no idea when she would see him again…if ever. Her heart in her throat, she ran as fast as her impractical heels would allow. He was just getting into his truck as she pelted to the curb.
Startled, he froze, and their eyes met. Feeling as if her face had gone numb, she stared helplessly at him. She reached back and untied her mask. There was no hiding from what she was feeling. “Please, please take care and be safe,” she whispered. “All of you.” Unable to drag her eyes away, she watched him, a swell of intense longing clogging her chest.
He let out a pent-up breath. “I always do.” Tank gazed at her, the muscles in his jaw taut with restraint; then he finally managed a small smile. “You take care, too. I’ll be back.”
He slid into his truck and then he was gone.
It was so hard to let go of him, harder yet to watch him go. An unexpected breeze blew tendrils of hair into her eyes. Pushing them away, Alyssa watched his vehicle disappear around a corner, feeling so at odds with what her head knew and what her heart felt.
A memory surfaced, unpleasant and unwelcome, but she couldn’t seem to help the feelings that came with it. So many times, she and Stephen had said goodbye, loving goodbyes, until they weren’t, until they were bitter and stony silences.
The memory also brought with it the hurt as love died, the pain of losing her husband as the distance between them stretched out until there was nothing left. The realization coursed through her and sent her reeling. She turned away from the street.
She must be out of her mind. It was impossible. She knew it. And, with him, it would be so much worse. A Navy SEAL was always gone, secretive; a good chunk of him belonged to the brotherhood and the rest to Uncle Sam. But the biggest obstacle to overcome was the fact that falling for him, getting involved with him…her breath caught…loving him would be a violation of the UCMJ with the mildest punishment being a slap on the wrist and the worst incarceration, her life ruined and in tatters.
He’d used the word inconvenient. He had no idea how much he was affecting her. Getting it out in the open would put a nix on it once and for all. She would make that clear to him when he came back. Clear that there could be nothing between them, even when deep down she had a feeling there was everything.
3
When he got to the ready room after picking up Echo, changing out of his tux and into his uniform, it was more subdued than usual. Everyone had assembled around the table with Ruckus
talking on the phone in low tones. Tank knew his leader, and the pinched look to his boss’s face told the story. Something had gone horribly wrong.
He sat down next to Blue, who was sitting there like he was attending a yoga class. The guy was always calm, cool, and collected. Nothing seemed to faze him, like he had already transcended the human condition. It was almost impossible to get a rise out of the guy. Instead, you got philosophy and insight. Blue was one of the most grounded men he’d ever met.
“What’s this about?”
Tank shrugged. “Don’t know. But the way Ruckus is acting, it’s not going to be good.”
His calm blue eyes turned to Tank. “Yeah, we’re the dudes that make sure everything does turn out right, man.”
“After we wade through a whole lot of bad.” Hollywood threw a ball for Echo and he chased it, bringing it back to him to throw again.
“Just adds more bad to our badass quotient.”
Tank chuckled. This situation was dire, there was no doubt about it, but like his situation with Alyssa, SEALs in tough conditions had to be realistic about the danger they were in—but they had to be confident about their ability to handle it. He could handle whatever LT was going to tell them once he finished his phone conversation, and he would handle this…disorder…with Alyssa. A challenge was nothing but something to overcome. He knew who he was and what he wanted.
Sitting next to his teammate, he wanted to absorb the energy he projected, but he still churned about her. When she’d been breathless after having chased him out of the hotel, he was sure he was going to get himself into deeper trouble. It had been more than just a woman wishing a man a safe journey. Hell, he’d never expected this to happen.
Dammit. She was making him question everything he believed. It wasn’t good right now and damn distracting when his head should be in the game and focused on whatever had LT looking like he could chew nails. Bedding Alyssa was a complicated mess, and one he should stay away from both in action and in his head. But that wasn’t the head he was thinking with right now.
He didn’t have to fall hopelessly, crazily in love with her. Hell, he wasn’t going to do that. He’d made love with lots of women without falling in love. He was very particular about his lovers. He liked women—loved them at their best and was fascinated by them at their worst—but he didn’t need to sleep with everyone he met.
He just needed to fuck Alyssa.
For a long time.
LT slammed the phone down and stood there with his hands on his hips, his chest heaving. The guys looked around at each other. Even Kid’s usual smart aleck remarks were silent.
He turned to them, his eyes bleak, shaken. Lieutenant Bowie “Ruckus” Cooper was shaken. That made all of them sit up straighter in their chairs. Some shit had gone down.
“Charlie Squad is KIA.”
Shock coursed through Tank. He suspected it was bad news…but this… He sat there with the rest of his team, decimated at losing eight operators. Eight elite, special forces men who they had worked and trained with. Three teams were trained for this mission, and they had drilled together for weeks before Charlie took off with Bravo in reserve, and Team Alpha, Tank’s team, would do any mop up needed. The mission to dismantle a minefield to get at the Kirikhan rebels entrenched in an area in the small country of Kirikhanistan in the Soviet Union that might hold their High Value Targets, Boris and Natasha Golovkin. They were wanted in connection with some weapons that had been stolen from Coronado. About half of them had been recovered when Kid Chaos was working with Special Agent Paige Sinclair, now Wilder, in Bolivia months ago. But there were still five ballistic warheads out there that had to be recovered. They were pulling out all the stops to get them.
After the initial shock came the anger, then the determination to make sure the sacrifice his brave teammates had made wouldn’t be in vain. The enemy, nothing but international thugs, also needed to discover the cost of going against SEALs. Tank was well aware how the gang mentality worked.
There was a long, strained silence; then Cowboy asked, “What? The whole squad?” Cowboy’s distressed tone mirrored the way each of them were feeling.
Tank stared straight ahead, reality striking home, and a cold feeling sluiced through his gut. Clenching his jaw against the awful sliding sensation in the pit of his stomach, he forced himself to take a deep breath. This was unprecedented in the SEALs. But more importantly, they’d lost damn good men. Each of their faces flashed in his mind and he felt sick all over again.
“They were ambushed and everyone killed. The wounded were executed. Bravo Squad went in after them and only five made it out. Three POWs.”
“Who did those fuckers take?”
“Speed, Pitbull, and Fast Lane.”
Tank took in the information, filling in each of the captured men’s names to ground himself. Pictured each guy in his mind so that he could solidify his resolve. Justin “Speed” Myerson, Errol “Pitbull” Ballentine, and Ford “Fast Lane” Nixon.
“Fast Lane? Dragon’s LT,” Kid ground out. “It’s payback time.”
Ruckus’s eyes narrowed. His gaze circled the room. “Damn fucking right. There were seven NATO and Army taken as well. We’re tasked with taking out the Golovkins, kill or capture, and recovering those warheads, but our main priority is going to be our guys.”
Tank was with him one hundred percent, a sick, hollow feeling overriding his fury for a moment, sending out a silent message to the men who were now no doubt terrified and fighting for their lives. Torture whispered across his mind, then his will hardened, his jaw set. Focus on getting them out of there, he told himself. His team was going to make that happen.
The faces around the table were set and determined, Wicked’s eyes glittering. “We’re going in hard and tough and when the smoke clears, we’ll be the only ones standing.”
“Whatever it takes,” Scarecrow said, his voice ominous.
“Hoo-yah,” reverberated around the room.
Tank went back to his locker. He pulled out his cell and pressed his contact list. When the call connected, he said, “Jordan, I’m deploying.” There was silence on the other end of the line for a long time. “Jordan?”
“Yeah,” he said wearily, “I’m here. I just— Damn, I needed to talk to you, but it can wait.”
A funny, uncomfortable sensation coursed through Tank, and he straightened, his insides going dead still. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. This is going to be more than a hurried five-minute discussion when you’re going into combat. Call me when you get home.”
He was torn here. It was clear Jordan needed him right now and he couldn’t be there for him. It was the reality he lived with. It drove home to him how sketchy he was in the support department, made him realize that his brothers deserved more—anyone he cared about deserved more than his absence. He thought fleetingly of Alyssa, trying to tell himself that she wasn’t a factor because she was off-limits and temporary at best. Did he want to jeopardize what he had professionally for a good fuck? And she would be good. He had no doubt about it. There was something…untested about her, something ready and willing to emerge. He was the man who could bring that out in her, a passion she didn’t even know she possessed.
But his chosen profession, his life’s work dictated the rules. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but you know not to ask.”
“I do.” He sighed, his voice soft, strained but upbeat. Jordan’s optimism was legend in their family. “Go save the world. I’ll let Dan know.”
“Be good, little brother.”
“Stay safe, Thorn. Call us when you can.”
“Copy that.”
Feeling as if he had a fist jammed in his heart, he hung up and started packing up his gear.
Even with the delays that inevitably happened, a day in Dover and two in Germany, Tank had patience because he knew that they were going to get to their destination and would mete out their own brand of justice. Echo was quiet even though the guys were raggi
ng each other. His canine partner was picking up on Tank’s iron control of his emotions. He couldn’t think about anything except the mission at hand.
His problems at home would have to wait until he could focus on them again. He’d only slipped once when he’d seen a dark-haired woman at Landstuhl, bringing Alyssa immediately to mind. He couldn’t once remember thinking about any of the women he bedded unless he was horny as hell. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hot for Alyssa, he was. There was just other stuff riding him about her.
Hollywood leaned over and asked, “So, what’s up with you and the Doc?”
“What do you mean?”
“You crashed my dance, man. Like a bulldozer.”
“I’d explain it to you, but I didn’t bring my puppets and crayons.”
“He was saving the lady from your bullshit, Hollywood,” Wicked said, leaning his head back with a slight smile.
With a cocky look on his face, Hollywood laughed. “What? Even my bullshit sparkles.” He grinned widely, and Tank knew from seeing the guy in action that he was right on the money.
“Your flexibility amazes me with the way you put your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass,” Kid said, deadpan in a voice that was so complimentary, all the guys laughed.
“I’m going to file that between fuck this… and fuck that…” Hollywood said unfazed.
“File this,” Tank said and gave him the finger.
Hollywood leaned over and said in a lowered voice, “I get it. You don’t want to talk about her. That makes sense since she’s an officer, but different branch. That count?”
“I don’t know, Hollywood. Just keep it in your pants. She’s not some conquest.”
Hollywood smirked and sometimes Tank wanted to haul off and wipe it off his face. “Oh, is she yours?”
