by Zoe Dawson
The door opened and closed. Then footsteps. Elena was above him. “Yaxshi.”
That was good in her language. He knew Russian and he knew this dialect, more Uzbek than Russian. It made sense because the countries had once been one before Kirikhanistan had split. So he was fluent in languages, because after thinking about it, he knew French, Italian, and Spanish as well as several Middle Eastern ones to boot.
“What time is it?”
“It’s after ten. You’ve been in and out for days. I was worried. For safety reasons, I don’t even trust our local doctor. I couldn’t risk you. There’s no guarantee even he wouldn’t turn us in, and believe me, you’d rather be dead if the Golovkins get a hold of you. Natasha is a sadist and her husband likes to watch. They are animals and they terrify me.” Her voice was solemn with undercurrents of fear. “People disappear and never return.”
“I understand. I’m feeling better, more alert.”
“Things coming back to you?”
“Not yet. Still fuzzy.”
She smiled, and God, but she was beautiful when she did that. He wasn’t about to fall for some sweet angel who had saved his life. He was just feeling the effects of gratitude. That was all. “By helping me, you’ve put yourself in danger.”
“Da, I have, but I don’t leave wounded men lying around to die. You were very far away from any help. I’m not sure how you walked that far with your injury. I guess you’re very fit. There were rebels everywhere. Not safe for either of us.”
“How did you get me here?”
“I got you up and got you into my horse drawn cart that I use to drive my wares into town. My car was stolen, and I don’t have any other mode of transportation. I drove you here. It was a job to get you into the house, but we managed.” She smiled at him again and he wasn’t sure if it was the concussion that made him go into idiot mode. “I think I’m more American than Kirikhan.”
“Why is that?”
She rose and shrugged. “I worked as a translator at the UN in New York City. I loved it there, but when my parents were murdered by the state for suspected treason, I came back for the funeral and to sell off the land that was left after the state took the best part for themselves. Really, the land grab has been initially why the Golovkins came to power. It was a small rebel force of disenfranchised landowners. I like that in America once you buy property and pay your bills, no one can take it away from you by force or corruption.”
He pushed himself to a sitting position, bracing his back against the wall. She helped him, then rearranged the covers over him. He expected her to smell like animals and hay, but instead she smelled clean and flowery. He breathed deep of her scent as she backed away. “Why do you stay here?”
She walked to the stove and with a potholder took the lid off a pan. Immediately steam rose and Blue’s mouth watered at the delicious aroma, at the delicious view of Elena. She was both beautiful and intelligent. She spoke English fluently with just a slight accent. Possessing both brains and a body that was soft, lush, and womanly made him lose his train of thought. Apparently, he had shit for brains.
He was a big guy, all over—from his wide shoulders, to his large hands and long fingers, to his taller than average frame. And because of his size, he liked women amply proportioned to handle and complement a man of his size. She would be a perfect fit for him, in every way. Everything in him dictated that he should keep this platonic. Keep himself from getting involved.
She wore a white peasant shirt with a deep V that showed a helluva lot of cleavage. Her faded jeans sat low on her curvaceous hips and hugged the rest of her shapely figure, and her smooth, rounded ass was a fine example of how that particular part of a woman’s anatomy should look.
She captivated him with the graceful sway of her hips. Fascinated him as she swung her long, blonde hair over her shoulders. The strands looked silky and shiny beneath the overhead lights, and the golden color accentuated her beautiful, and striking, blue cornflower eyes. A slight smile curved her lips as she glanced his way, and there was something in her eyes that made his heart pound.
He couldn’t want this woman. Acting on his desires wasn’t an option. He had obviously been here on a mission for a branch of the service. He was on foreign soil, behind enemy lines. Those were reasons enough to be smart.
She picked up an orange bowl and dished up the contents of the pot while she answered his question. “I’ve been denied travel because of my parents’ questionable ethics. But, now that the rebels control a lot of this area, I fear I will never get out.” She walked back to him and set the bowl in his hands. Their hands accidently touched, and she handed him a spoon. He could have sworn he heard her suck in a quick, startled breath at his unintentional caress.
“Go ahead and eat. Don’t wait for me.”
“It smells delicious.”
“It’s solyanka soup made with ham, cucumber pickles, tomatoes, onions, olives, capers, and spices. It’s sweet and sour.” She handed him a plate with thick bread on it, then poured him some hot tea from a pot that was sitting on the small table that was obviously used for meals. She set the tea on the windowsill. “I hope you like it.”
“Why can’t you leave the country?”
She prepared her own bowl, and regardless of her urging him to do so, he couldn’t start without her. She smiled at his manners and sat down in a chair near the bed. “The government likes me to be aware of what’s going on and report back. If they find out, the rebels will kill me. But it’s been the carrot they have held over me. I have no choice but to comply until they grant me the permission to travel.”
After she took her first bite, then chastised him for not eating, he took a mouthful and savored the sweet tangy goodness exploding on his tongue. The ham was tender and melted in his mouth. He swallowed and said, “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Thank you. You are a kind man and I will do everything in my power to get you out of here as soon as you are well. I have a contact in the government. I don’t want to risk your exposure to any leaks. I simply can’t trust anyone. Not until you are well and, if need be, can fend for yourself.”
He took a bite of the delicious bread and washed it down with the hot tea warming his insides. He didn’t know where it came from, but he wasn’t going to leave her here. There was something ingrained in him, a sense of right and wrong that he couldn’t overlook. It had to make up his character. He liked that about himself. “Elena, I promise I will help you escape as well. I won’t leave you here if you wish to defect.”
“Would you? That is unexpected. I don’t know how much longer they’re going to leave me and this small farm alone. It’s not safe here. But I don’t need to defect. I am already an American citizen.”
“I’ll return the favor. I promise.”
“Did you like the solyanka?”
“Very much.” She served him blini after that, a savory crepe-like pancake topped with strawberry preserves that she had canned herself. He watched her lick a dollop of whipped cream off her upper lip and felt his entire body tighten with the urge to taste her. Clearing his throat, he shifted on the bed and focused on the dessert. “You’re a good cook,” he said, his voice husky. “Thank you for sharing your home and food with me.”
Pleasure filled her eyes and she smiled. For a moment he couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away. It was Elena who turned away, a blush staining her cheeks. He was captivated. He was feeling tired after that, so he laid back down.
He had to keep his wits about him.
This wasn’t a tryst for God’s sake.
This was life and death.
Yet he couldn’t seem to get her beautiful blue eyes out of his mind as he fell back to sleep.
8
Tank ripped off the sling, then cursed as his shoulder wound protested. He threw it and his bag across the room. The suitcase hit his coffee table and it overturned, sending a glass bowl hurtling across the room to smash against the wall. Multi-colored glass tinkled and chimed as the
demolished pieces of the bowl spread across the carpet.
He grabbed his cell phone and pressed Dan’s contact. The call connected, and Dan said, “Hey bro. Did everything work out with Echo?”
“Yeah, he’s good. Really good.”
“What’s wrong? You have your teeth clenched and your ass-kicking voice going.”
“I need you to pick up Jordan and come over right now.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here. I can’t drive right now. I need you to do this, Dan.”
“All right. I’ll get him—and we’ll be there in a few. Chill, man.”
Chill? Dan had no idea his world was going to be altered. Jordan hadn’t told either one of them. He knew Dan wouldn’t have kept this from him.
He paced and finally gave in and got some of the pain medication from his bag, took the tablets, and sat down on the couch, cradling his head in his hands. He’d been afraid to take it after that first night with Alyssa. God, he’d wanted her. It was still an ache from his balls to the tip of his dick. Kissing her had been a big mistake. Now he knew what it was like to have that mouth, all soft and moist. She kissed like an angel.
He’d been uncharacteristically chatty that night as well. He blamed the damn drugs. He wouldn’t have ever talked that much. He didn’t do the bonding thing with women, and crying wasn’t his thing. He’d never expected that beauty to blindside him. The tenderness he felt for her lay like a constant ache on his heart.
He knew his limitations. They were intense.
Dealing with the loss of Echo as a partner was mild compared to losing him to some unfeeling asshole who was too fucking lazy and incompetent to understand that Echo had just been through a traumatic situation. He’d been separated from his handler, and it had been as hard on the Malinois as it had been on Tank. If he hadn’t been medicated, his Navy career might just be over. He would have beat that jerk to a bloody pulp. He clenched his fists. The sexual frustration mixed with the devastating news that Jordan may be sick ratcheted up the tension in him to unbelievable levels.
He had to see the damn shrink tomorrow, and he wanted to go like he wanted a root canal or bamboo under his fingernails. Making the decision to bail on the MWD program was his own business. Alyssa had been completely right. There had been underlying reasons, but not hidden ones. First, he couldn’t even fathom another dog matching Echo’s skills, smarts, speed, and intuition. Secondly, the pain of almost losing him was something he hadn’t expected. He knew they were part of the military, not pets. But trying to stay detached from an animal who needed affection and attention was impossible.
Now Echo was out of the picture and he had no idea how he was going to handle that. Right now, he was just hanging on, trying to accept that things were changing in his life. Jordan was sick. Echo was recovering, and Blue was still missing.
He’d thought once he’d put East LA in his rearview, he’d get a handle on what he was feeling. But it wasn’t going to work that way. He couldn’t outrun all the things that were chasing him. And he sure as hell couldn’t outrun himself—or images of her.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alyssa as she’d been the night she’d saved Echo: a tough, fierce protector of his buddy. He’d watched her tell off her ex-husband through the glass. Every nuance of her face, her disgust and anger so evident in her lush mouth and expression.
Her ex-husband hadn’t deserved her, but Tank wasn’t sure he deserved her either.
He remembered that awful stricken look in her eyes when he’d left her after she’d spilled the beans about Jordan.
He made a soft sound in his throat, the changes in his life challenging him. He had strived so hard for the status quo, to keep everything balanced, and now that was shot to hell and it was a brave new world.
And he didn’t like it one damn bit.
He had learned a long time ago how to erect barriers; especially as a kid, he’d perfected the fine art of putting on armor to protect himself and his brothers. He’d relied on that when he’d had to shut Alyssa out or drag her down on top of him and do her like he wanted to. Now everything was shifting around like loose baggage, and it scared the hell out of him. He knew deep down in his gut there was no future for them. There was too much crap in the way. He relied on the brotherhood. That’s what he did.
But damn, no brother ever smelled like her, no brother could soothe him, no brother could be what she was to him. Hell, friendship with a woman, one with respect and a deep abiding gratitude—he’d never seen that coming.
The fact that he wanted to sleep with her over and over again only made him feel even more out of control in situations that were taxing his ability to cope.
When he heard the car pull up outside, he went to the door and threw it open. They were coming across the lawn, and Dan was laughing at something Jordan said. The accident came back to him like it was yesterday. The crash of metal, the car rolling, windows smashing, and his little sister’s cries cut off abruptly.
He closed his eyes and waited. “Hey,” Dan said as he passed Tank. “You look like hell. You should get some rest.”
Jordan came right behind him, and Tank slammed the door, grabbed his little brother by the shirt collar and growled. “Why the fuck do I have to hear that you have cancer from Alyssa?”
You could hear a pin drop in the instant that it registered on Dan’s face. Along with Jordan’s realization that he was going to have to do some fast-talking because Tank was in his roll-over-anything rage.
“Calm down,” Jordan said. “I know I should have.”
“You’re telling me to calm down when my little brother is sick! This isn’t a broken bone, Jordan!”
“I know.”
“You know.”
Jordan struggled out of Tank’s grasp and walked into the living room. Dan was evidently speechless because he just sat down on one of Tank’s big leather chairs and stared at Jordan. Jordan righted the coffee table and sat down on the sofa.
Tank couldn’t sit down.
“I’ve spent my life protecting you, Jordan. I’ve been there for you.”
Jordan’s mouth compressed and his dark brown eyes flashed. “No you haven’t, Thorn. You’ve been playing war games.”
Jordan had been too young to remember Jelsena. He’d spent a lot of his younger years trying to get their old man’s approval. Tank had tried to fill his father’s shoes.
“You told me what to do, and sure you protected me, but I never felt your support. You were always deployed. I think you love that dog more than me.”
Tank stared at him, his face rigid, then swung his gaze to Dan. “You feel the same way?”
“Jordan, Jesus, really man. If it wasn’t for Thorn, both of us would have been dead by now, just another statistic He was there for us.”
He turned his attention back to Jordan, a look of pain on his face. “No, Dan, he was separate from us, not accessible. I feel sometimes I don’t even know you.”
Tank stared at him, the muscles in his face taut. Jordan’s words were like physical blows, and Tank folded down into the other leather chair. He closed his eyes. What was happening here? They were splintering, and his family was falling apart. Or—a twist of pain wrenched his gut—had he ever had a family at all?
A look of anger and frustration on his face, Jordan shook his head and stared off into space. Finally, he looked at Tank, the defiance replaced by fear. “I didn’t tell you about the cancer because I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to do it while you were training. You seemed so far away most of the time, like you’re fighting a war in your head. I get it. The SEALs are tough, and you belong to Uncle Sam. But you belong to us, too, Thorn. You belonged to us long before the SEALs. I need more than your protection. I need your support. And after you came back, after Echo was wounded, I thought I should just wait. It’s not like the cancer is going away.”
“You know something, Jordan? I don’t give a damn what your reasons are. We can deal with those lat
er. I’m your brother and I do care about you. Christ…it’s killing me to know you could have cancer.”
“Try having it,” Jordan muttered.
“He’s right. You should have told us. Regardless of all the shit it seems we need to work out, we are a family. We have stuck together through some pretty terrible, harrowing stuff. We made it out of a shithole,” Dan said.
“Look, I’m sorry. That’s how I feel.”
“You have a right to your feelings, but you should have brought these up to me a long time ago. How can I address something I don’t know about?”
Jordan grudgingly looked at him. “You have a point.”
“I don’t like that you think I’m not supportive or accessible. I’d do anything for you, little brother, or Dan. Anything.”
Jordan leaned back, his face contorting. “I know.” Tank rose and walked over to the couch. He grabbed Jordan by the back of the neck.
“I’m so scared,” he whispered. “So scared.”
Dan rose and grabbed Jordan’s shoulder in silent support. Tank did his best to be the support Jordan said he needed as they talked about the next steps, like finding the best damn doctor they could. Sometimes the strong exterior slipped—for all three of them—but Tank refused to let himself completely break down when his little brother needed him most.
Hours later he was lying on his bed, and he tried like hell not to miss her warm heat, her presence. But it wasn’t working. It hadn’t been the fraternization that had held him in check…it had been his deep-seated fear. Fear of showing any affection for anyone, fear of laying open his heart and having it stomped on.
It was different with the brotherhood. That was men bonding over war, over life and death decisions. There was an expected and silent code that they would have each other’s backs. But they were men, and a relationship with a woman was infinitely different. He loved and trusted each of his teammates. But he had to wonder how they were all feeling now.
