Tank (SEAL Team Alpha Book 4)

by Zoe Dawson

  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.

  He took a small breath, and Blue, Ocean Beckett, a skilled medic, badass warrior and philosopher who could make you think hard with just a few words. The guilt of not being there for him, not knowing what had happened to him, hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Had he neglected one teammate for the other? Was a human life more important than Echo’s?

  Echo, who was lying in this place somewhere, had not only saved these men, he’d saved countless lives.

  Tank turned to look at Alyssa, and she smiled. There was no doubt in her mind that they would show up, which meant she understood the brotherhood—she got it that what they did was from their hearts, displayed in their actions, and was much stronger and louder than words.

  He was floored, and it made him look at Alyssa in a different light. She was awesome in her own right, but this act of kindness, this understanding of how he was feeling, what he would need, did something to him that he’d never experienced before. She’d changed his perspective and burrowed her way a little deeper into not only his mind, but his heart as well. And he was so sure that he’d closed his heart a long time ago.

  With that realization, fear surfaced. The kind of fear that he’d buried deeper than any fear that came after it. Fear of getting hurt, the fear of trusting and then being betrayed by the people who were sworn to love him. Of being alone.

  He’d gone into the Navy SEALs because he thirsted for order. He hungered for cohesion and precision. He wanted to belong to something that meant something, something that was strong and filled an open hollowness in him. He’d found it in the SEALs.

  Pushing himself to his limits, seeing how tough he was—not only his body, but more importantly, his mind. He’d navigated the mean streets of East LA by his wits and his brawn. He’d kept his brothers safe, protected them against gangs, drugs, and his sorry parents.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said.

  Kid piped up. “Yeah, it’s only part of it. When we heard there was a sausage festival in town, well, you couldn’t keep me away.”

  “Yeah, now six guys are stuffed into two rooms,” Wicked said.

  “Then I guess you’d have to call that a sausage fest,” Tank said.

  Kid laughed along with the other guys, pointing his finger at Tank. “You stole my line, you bastard.”

  They all sobered when a man with a white coat and a stethoscope came through the door. Tank looked to Alyssa who had stilled near the front desk. “Lieutenant Colonel St. James,” he said. “The dog is this way. Who is the handler?”

  This was her ex-husband; this slender man Tank could break in two? Just the thought of him touching her, even in the past rankled.

  “I am,” he growled.

  “Come with me,” he said, as if this was a waste of his time. Tank wanted to haul off and deck the guy, but it wouldn’t be worth losing his access to his brave buddy. He took them into a room and finally—Echo.

  Tank relived the awful moment when everything had gone white. The feeling of helplessness churning through him when he spotted his fierce K9 warrior in agony. After waiting for so long, he had finally gotten to him.

  As soon as Echo saw Tank, he barked, and Tank walked over to him. He braced his hand on the gurney and covered his eyes with his hand, finally giving in to the intolerable pressure in his chest. It was the panic that had unraveled him—and the awful tension that had dogged him every mile he’d been separated from his combat partner. And it was also the accumulated strain of hours of worry and moments of heart-stopping fear. For hours he had shoved the constant anxiety to the back of his mind, refusing to give in to it. His internal damn broke.

  He bent his head down and buried his face into Echo’s fur. His eyes filled, and Echo licked his face, his tail wagging a mile a minute. Something that had tightened the day he’d been separated from him loosened. Echo had always been there, doing his job, keeping people safe, working his ass off. He was the best K9 partner he’d ever had and the only thing in this world who had ever protected him. He wasn’t going to stand by while someone told him his warrior dog wasn’t fighting for his life.

  Alyssa motioned for Stephen to exit the room. She closed the door softly, leaving Tank to spend some time with Echo. “Let me see his chart.”

  “He wasn’t like that before. He was lethargic, and we didn’t believe that he would survive the operation.”

  She’d never been a violent person, but she wanted to punch her ex-husband in the balls. How could she have married such a man? He was supposed to be a vet and an advocate for animals. She looked up at him. She grabbed the chart out of his hand. “What happened to you? When did you stop caring?”

  “I do my job, Alyssa.”

  “Well, you go do that. I’ve got this.” She stared at him stonily. But he didn’t budge.

  “That’s the problem with you, Alyssa. You think you know everything there is to know. You always thought you were better than me. So this shouldn’t come as any surprise to me that you’re being such a bitch.”

  “Wow. You didn’t even ask to speak freely.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not responsible for how you feel, Stephen. You’re responsible for that. What I do comes naturally to me. I don’t think how my skills and expertise affect others. I don’t answer to you anymore.”

  “No, as usual. You only answer to your father.”

  That hit like a nuke and exploded. Still not giving an inch even though he’d scored a direct hit, she stared him down. He shook his head. “If you need me, ma’am, just page me.”

  She looked down at the chart and the list of his injuries would heal, but the one to his shoulder had severed muscle, broken bone. She blinked rapidly, smarting from his jab. “I won’t need you.”

  She looked up into his narrowed eyes. He stared at her for a moment then walked away. Alyssa took a deep breath. She didn’t have time to think about what he’d said. She caught one of the lab techs walking by and said, “Prepare an operating room. I’m going to be doing surgery on this warrior.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She took a breath and went back into the room. Tank was petting Echo and there was such a beautiful smile on his face that she had to catch her breath. This is what she was going to think about right now.

  “Tank?”

  He looked at her, the gratitude in his eyes profound. “Thank you for doing this, Alyssa. You’ll never know how much this means to me.”

  “I think I do.” She walked over and hugged him, his eyes red rimmed and swollen. He clasped her to him hard and held her for a few minutes, his hand cupping the back of her neck. “I’m going to need to examine him. Will you hold his head while I look at his wound?”

  He let her go and stepped back, nodding. Fighting against the new wave of feelings jamming up in her chest, Alyssa looked away, her eyes prickling. The thump of Echo’s tail almost made her laugh, but Tank caught her under the chin, forcing her face up. “I’ll do anything to help Echo,” he said, his tone firm. “He’s ready to fight.”

  She unwrapped the bandages. This was a long and deep gash; the shrapnel had traveled from his ribs to the top of his neck. The largest muscle affected was his latissimus dorsi and she noted how deep the laceration went, but the good news was that he hadn’t lost any muscle and the wound had been thoroughly cleaned. The guys over in Germany did an excellent job. She could fix this, but, she turned to Tank. “The good news is that this is operable, and I think I can give him a good range of motion, say eighty percent, maybe even ninety. But he won’t be able to go back to active duty and he’s probably going to have a limp. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice breaking badly.

  She nodded. “He’s almost eight years old, Tank,” she said gently. “He’s done his duty. He needs to be retired.”

  He swallowed hard and she could tell he was having a hard time with this. “I don’t want to let him
go, but I understand.”

  When she turned around, six men stood at the window. With word from their commander, they all did a precision and hard salute. Tank leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. She couldn’t remember wanting to hold a man more.

  “I’m going to get scrubbed up. You can stay with him until he’s sedated.”

  He rubbed Echo’s head and his tail went off again. “Good boy. You did an awesome job, buddy. You saved so many lives.” His voice choked up, and she squeezed his arm, then slipped out the door. She faced the men in his unit.

  “I’m glad you’re all here. I’m going to operate on Echo, but I know that Tank would appreciate your support while he waits.”

  “Hoo-yah!” was the collective answer from them all. She smiled and went to the operating area, scrubbed in, and was gowned and masked. Soon Echo was wheeled in, the dog’s breathing slow and steady. The anesthesiologist gave her the thumbs up. She sat near his head to monitor his vital signs.

  Alyssa said, “Let’s begin.” She painstakingly sewed every severed muscle, nerve, and tendon back together with simple sutures that would dissolve as the muscles knitted. He wouldn’t be one hundred percent, but she would give him as much mobility as her skill could give him. Eleven hours passed before she finished the job. She usually left closing to a resident, but she did this herself, taking that step for him, mending what America’s enemies had sundered. She’d given him the vital chance he would need to heal and convalesce. She blinked back tears as she finished the last stitch. Silently she whispered to herself. Thank you, Echo, for your service. Thank you for taking care of that big, beautiful lug out there waiting for you. Just thank you.

  She pulled off her gloves, leaned back to relieve the strain in her back, and turned to look back at the resting animal. The anesthesiologist came alongside her. She touched Alyssa’s shoulder. “You are truly gifted.”

  That grabbed her heart and squeezed. She had worked hard to be what she thought Robbie would have been, what he would have done, the kind of dedication he would have given if he’d lived and become a vet. She smiled as the woman left the room. Something occurred to her. It hadn’t been Robbie here saving Echo’s life. It had been her—she had fought and bullied and called in every favor she was owed to get to do this operation on him. It had been all her. Immediately, she thought about her father and she had to wonder who he saw when he looked at her. Was it the past? Did he even think of her as an individual when he played the Robbie card her whole life as if his legacy would have overshadowed her if he had lived? It was a sobering and uncomfortable thought. How much did she really owe her deceased brother? Her emotionally crippled father?

  She rubbed her neck after she took off her gown and disposed of it in the bin. Then she wearily walked down the hall to the waiting room. It was still filled with seven men, all of them sleeping, some in chairs, others propped against the wall. The duty receptionist smiled. “This is a lot of testosterone.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I tell you. It’s been no hardship working tonight.”

  Alyssa smiled broadly and took in all that beautiful, sleeping muscle and handsome as sin faces. What a group of hotties.

  But there was one face that was most dear to her, deny it as much as she might. Thorn Hunt was devastatingly gorgeous.

  She walked over to him and sat down in the vacant chair. She touched his arm. He stirred, the soft noise of his wake-up sounds stimulating even after almost a dozen hours of bending over Echo. He opened those thickly lashed eyes and then, boom, he was awake. Combat awake as if he could turn it on and off. And maybe SEALs could.

  “How is he?”

  She wrapped her hand around his as he came upright. He looked so exhausted. “He’s really good. Very good.”

  He let out his breath and closed his eyes. “Can I see him?”

  “Yes.”

  They rose, and he grabbed her hand, walking down the hall together. Once they entered the recovery room, Tank stopped, then looked at her. Echo was on a pallet on the floor covered with a quilt that was made out of cute doggie material. He was hooked up to an IV and a monitor. But next to him was another pallet made up for Tank.

  “Go on. Get some sleep. He’ll rest better with you nearby. He knows your scent and he’s probably going to be a little scared when he comes out of the anesthesia. Give him a lot of encouragement.” She let go of his hand. “I’ll check on him through the night. Rest.”

  She turned to go, but Tank’s raspy command stopped her. “Wait.”

  She looked back at him and their eyes met. There was something new, something that looked as good on him as his tough look. A sweet sensation unfolded in her when she saw the way he was looking at her. It wasn’t sexual. It was warmth she saw in his eyes—a warmth that was a mixture of gratitude and affection. That look created such a response in her that it was almost more than she could handle. And she wanted to touch him so badly that it was all she could do to keep her hands to herself.

  A strand of hair came undone from her ruthless bun and slipped across her mouth, and Tank leaned over and lifted it away. Alyssa’s breath caught on a wave of sensations, and she closed her eyes and grasped his wrist.

  He rubbed his knuckle along her jaw, then reluctantly pulled free of her grasp and straightened. Alyssa rubbed her forehead; then drawing a shaky breath, she looked at him. “I wish,” she said, trying to sound annoyed, “that you would quit doing that to me.”

  He gazed at her, that same mixture of warmth and gratitude and pure, unaltered sex appeal lighting his eyes. “You’re even full of sass when you’re dog-tired. Pun intended.”

  She groaned, then grinned at him. “You’re a piece of work, mister.”

  He chuckled as he went to the pallet and lay down with his head next to Echo’s.

  She went to one of the empty offices and started to fill out the report, her eyes heavy and gritty. The words blurred, but she jerked awake. She looked at her watch and saw that she’d been asleep for about half an hour.

  Time to check on her patient. She went back to the recovery room, and when she walked in, she had to take a deep breath. All of his teammates had migrated to this room. They surrounded Tank and Echo like a living, breathing shield. This was part of that brotherhood she understood. This was what these guys lived and breathed, covering each other’s backs, being there when it mattered. Making sure all their buddies were accounted for. So it must have been doubly terrible to know that one of them was missing. Blue’s bright blue eyes and strong, handsome face materialized in her mind. God, please keep him safe until they can get to him. She prayed silently, fiercely. For their sakes and his. Give him the strength he needs to get through whatever it is he’s going through.

  She maintained her cool as she checked Echo’s vital signs. He was resting easy, and the color of his gums looked pink and healthy. He was doing phenomenally. What a fighter!

  She kept it together until she got back to her office. She was a doctor and wasn’t supposed to get emotionally involved with her patients, but Alyssa couldn’t seem to separate herself from this one.

  She fought against the thick feeling in her throat and chest. A small sob escaped, and she covered both her eyes with her cupped palms. It seemed like a long time before she had cried herself out, her harsh sobs dwindling to the occasional ragged one. Pressing the heels of her hands against her throbbing, swollen eyes, she forced herself to dredge up some control, then she reached for tissues, blew her nose, and closed her eyes and tipped her head back, waiting for her emotions to settle. God, she didn’t know she could feel so involved, so exhausted, so emotionally twisted.

  She folded down on the couch against the wall, her weary body shutting down, a terrible emptiness settling inside her. That feeling was compounded when she admitted to herself that she wanted to get so much closer to Tank. She tried to will away the ache that was pressing in on her heart. After seeing Stephen, she realized the contrast between the two men. Tank so larger than life, such a fierce and b
rave warrior, a gentle giant. In the beginning, she’d had hope with Stephen, but that had proved to be her undoing.

  She sensed that Tank was alone, wary, and that created a serious fear in her that she could barely stand. Her imminent active duty change, the distance. It was as if history was repeating itself and she’d vowed, never again—never again would she be that vulnerable. He so desperately needed someone. Not to show him what love was—Echo had done that, those men in there had done that, and his brothers as well. What he needed was to offer that to a woman, something that wasn’t all about getting his rocks off. Hit by a rush of emotion, Alyssa locked her jaw against the awful constriction in her throat. She had never realized until this instant that she wanted that woman to be her. She just wasn’t sure if she had enough courage.

  7

  When morning dawned, Alyssa woke up and then rushed to the recovery room. His teammates were already gone, and she was sorry she didn’t get to say goodbye. Tank was sitting against the wall, and Echo’s head was in his lap. Tank was petting his head, talking low and soft to him.

  “Morning,” she said, and Tank looked up. The pinched look around his eyes and mouth told her he was in pain. She might be a vet, but she was still a medical professional. He had been in an explosion less than thirty-six hours ago.

  “It’s time to go, Tank. You need to get some real rest. If your doctor finds out you’ve been sleeping on a pallet, he’ll probably skin me alive.”

  “He took an oath. Cause no harm. Isn’t that right?”

  She chuckled. “Okay, so he might just blister my ears, then.” She walked over and said, “How is our patient doing?”

  “He’s doing great.”

  “He just needed you here.”

  He nodded and gave her a full-blown smile and, yeah, okay, it was spectacular.

  She walked over, checked Echo, then reached out her hand for him. He clasped it, and it was like moving a granite block with her pinky toe. It was a good thing the granite block was cooperating. Mr. My-way-or-the-highway, listening to her. That was also new.