by Zoe Dawson
The SEALs were halfway to them when it lifted off. Together they stared helplessly as the engine gunned, the rotors spun, and it banked and then sped off into the distance. Scarecrow erupted into a rage, screaming at the top of his lungs, going to his knees. Wicked walked over there, knelt down and grabbed him by the back of the neck, speaking in soft tones to him.
For a minute they just stood there, unbelieving that they had been so close to their teammate but lost him. Blue was gone, this time in enemy hands. The Golovkins had taken him. A sick, hollow feeling welling up inside, he watched as the speck disappeared.
Hood was kneeling beside the woman when they all approached. She was breathing hard, blood at her mouth, a wound to her chest. Hood was working fast and efficiently as blood soaked through her coat.
She gasped, her voice hitching with the effort to get the words out from her bloody lips. “Blue,” she whispered.
He knelt beside her and took her hand as she reached out to him, clasping it firmly. Tears welled in her eyes. “He’s gone. They have him,” Tank said hollowly.
“No, those monsters will do unspeakable things to him. I couldn’t let them use me against him. Save him. Please. Save him,” she rasped, tears flowing freely down her face. “I tried to keep him safe, but I couldn’t. He can’t remember who he is, and I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have trusted him.”
Tank got the immediate sense that last sentence didn’t refer to Blue. “Who?”
She closed her eyes, her breaths going shallow.
“Hood!”
“I’m losing her!”
Her grip weakened in Tank’s hand, her blue eyes imploring him. Then she closed them as if garnering all her strength. “I had a government contact. He must have betrayed us. Working with the rebels. There was no other way for them to know.” She took a deep, labored breath. She stared up into Tank’s face. Instead of telling him the vital information on who her contact was, she whispered, “Tell him I love him.”
Her breath expelled, and her eyes went glassy as life left her.
15
The C-130 was utterly quiet as they sat numb from the terrible loss of Blue, now in the rebels’ hands. Bronte made a soft, distressed whine and Tank dug his hand into her fur. Losing Blue was a bitter pill to swallow. He stared at the body bag, his eyes moist. She had decided that it was more important to tell him that she loved Blue than it was to give up the name of her contact.
Still, she had confirmed what they already knew. Even now LT was on the line with the brass and he was telling them there was a confirmed leak in the Kirikhanistan government. The very same government they had been working with. Every mission had been compromised, and whoever had given out that information was going to pay.
He leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. He could sure use some of Blue’s philosophy right now.
Be like the fish.
Tank hadn’t understood that during the masquerade ball, and he didn’t understand it now.
A hand descended on his shoulder and squeezed. He looked up into Ruckus’s stern face.
“We did everything humanly possible. Don’t beat yourself up.” Ruckus looked at the other men on the plane. “None of you should feel one ounce of remorse about this op. We almost had him. The good news is we rescued the NATO and Green Berets and the three SEALs from Bravo. That’s a victory.”
“Hoo-yah,” they responded.
He rose and said, his voice reverberating through the metal aircraft, “We’re going to find him and Speed and we’re going to bring them home.
“No matter the cost,” Scarecrow said to Wicked.
Wicked looked at him, and when Scarecrow raised his arm, they fist bumped. “Hoo-yah,” Wicked said, then again, louder, “Hoo-yah!”
“Hoo-yah,” sounded in a chorus of men’s voices.
Ruckus sat down next to Tank.
“She deserves a hero’s burial,” Tank said. “I’ll pay for it.”
Ruckus nodded. “Her name was Elena Sokolov. She was a naturalized American citizen, translator at the UN. We’ll make sure she’s buried with honors,” he said.
“I intend to deliver her message to Blue.”
Ruckus smiled. “I have no doubt. We’ll find him, Tank.”
He took out his cell and texted Alyssa that he was coming home and his ETA. He needed her right now. Needed her arms around him.
The rest of the trip was quiet as each of the men gave in to their exhaustion, both body and soul. When they touched down, Tank headed to base and took care of Bronte. Before he left her, he hugged the dog. “You did good out there, girl.” She licked his face, effectively saying he also had kicked ass. He ruffled her fur and slipped out of her enclosure.
He closed the kennel and drove over to Alyssa’s apartment. When she opened the door, she could tell something was wrong right away. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Oh, Thorn,” she said softly. He could see that her dad was still there, and Alyssa seemed subdued and on edge.
“Come with me?” she said. “Unless you’re hungry.”
He shook his head. “I’m not hungry, at least not for food,” he whispered. “I just need to hold you.”
She drew him into her bedroom, not seeming at all concerned by her father’s presence. She started a bath and he just stood there as she removed his uniform. When he was naked, she brought him into the bathroom and the tub of steaming water. He got in, and she stripped down and settled in behind him.
“Lean back,” she whispered tenderly, and she washed his hair, her gentle but firm fingers massaging his scalp. He sighed as she finished. Then she got a soapy washcloth and washed him.
“Tell me what happened.”
He couldn’t go into details, but told her about rescuing all the hostages, then going after Blue.
When he said, “The rebels have him.” she sagged weakly into his embrace.
“I’m so scared for him,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him for a long, long time. Tightening her arms around him, Alyssa ran her hand over his hair and kissed him on the temple.
“I know,” he said softly. “It’s been one hell of a six weeks.”
She rubbed his back, cupping his head with her other hand, trembling with reaction. Adjusting his head on her shoulder, he curled his arm around her waist. He hadn’t realized how strung out he was until the terrible tension let go. The pressure in his chest finally abated, and he was able to take a deep, relieved breath as Alyssa pressed him more tightly to her.
Her voice unsteady, she whispered, “When are you leaving again?”
He rubbed her thigh beneath the water. “I don’t know. Soon.”
She held him for several more moments, then brushed another light kiss against his temple. Her tone still quiet, she said, “After Thanksgiving?”
Tank turned his face into the soft skin of her neck, swallowing hard against the sudden cramp in his throat. He fought back the emotion. He looked up at her, an exhausted kind of numbness settling in. “Probably. I could get the call any time.”
Maybe he had to rethink his plan to fight for her. They were both serving their country, and he was going to be caught up with finding Blue. As soon as the brass decided what course of action to take, they would be going back. To build a strong relationship, proximity was important. Maybe he should keep his opinions about what she should do to himself. It would free her to make her own decision about taking the job at Lackland.
The thought of losing her, of not having her here when he came off deployment was like a kick to the groin, but he refused to pressure her like her dad. He’d learned too much from her in the past weeks about being there for her and how important it was. He would support her in any decision she made, even if it meant that he would lose her.
No more his way or the highway.
He was no longer that man.
“Let’s get you to bed,” she murmured as she rose out of the tub.
�
��I like the sound of that,” he said, stepping out, water sluicing off him. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes going glassy. Reaching out, she ran her hand over his biceps, then let her breath go with a soft, dreamy sigh. He caught her by the back of the neck and drew her head against him. “You drive me crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I wasn’t dodging bullets.”
Her face went serious. “Not something I want to hear,” she said. She wrapped a towel around him, hugging him briefly before drying him off. He grabbed her chin and kissed her long and slow.
Once they were on the bed, he pulled her on top of him. “Ride me hard, Alyssa.”
And she did, taking him to a new height of passion and pleasure. Afterwards, he dragged her close, so tired he could barely put together a coherent sentence. His last conscious thought was how fucked up everything was right now; then the gray fog of sleep pulled him under.
It was three in the afternoon when he woke up, a little surprised at how long he’d slept. He dressed in his running clothes. Exiting the bedroom, he walked into the kitchen. A piece of paper on the counter caught his eye. He read the short sentences. Alyssa had gone to work. He stood in the kitchen and looked up from the note to find Kyle St. James standing in the entrance to the kitchen.
“Hello,” he said, looking distinguished in a pair of jeans, a black pullover, and cowboy boots on his feet. Tank wondered if he had a cowboy hat like his teammate. Cowboy wore it every chance he got. After spending several weeks with him and Kia in Reddick, Texas, he wasn’t really keen to go back there. At least not to the small town. But he wouldn’t really have any need as Kia had moved here and she and Cowboy were getting married as soon as they set the date. It was easy to see that his teammate was besotted.
“Mr. St. James.”
“Oh, I don’t stand on formality. Call me Kyle.” His good ol’ boy drawl put Tank on edge. “Had a tough go of it?”
Tank opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.
“It was a tough deployment, but I can’t really talk about it.” That hollow feeling hadn’t diminished. After his run, he needed to make arrangements for Elena Sokolov’s funeral. Blue would want her to be taken care of, even in death. His heart broke for him, and he tried to block the images of his teammate, his brother, being tortured. He knew all too well what the enemy did to captured US military.
“Of course,” he murmured.
Tank went to go past Alyssa’s father, but he grabbed Tank’s arm, stopping him. Her dad was an opposing man, but taller where Tank was broader.
“I’m suspecting you don’t want to hold my daughter back. She’s wanted this job for a long time. It’s what she had been working toward before she let that ex-husband derail her. I’ve told her before, emotion has no place in business.”
Tank stopped and stared the older man down. He let go of Tank and stepped back. “I have no intentions of telling Alyssa what to do. It seems she’s already had enough of that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” her father growled. He glared at Tank.
Unaffected, Tank walked toward the door and opened it. “If the boot fits, Kyle… Have a great day.” He shut the door behind him and broke into a run. He’d have to burn off the energy of holding back from socking her father right in the kisser. His disapproval could go to hell. Tank was determined he wasn’t going to be that kind of asshole.
After his run, he went home, showered, and changed, then went out to the base to check on Bronte. He walked her, played tug with her for a bit, then put her back in her kennel. He couldn’t help thinking about Echo.
He headed over to the clinic and walked inside. The receptionist looked up and smiled. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Dr. St. James.”
“If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll buzz her.”
He waited for five minutes before Alyssa came out. “Hey,” she said, looking like she wanted to kiss him, but they kept it platonic in public while in uniform. She did squeeze his hand, her warm gaze connecting with his. “What’s up?”
“Lunch?” he asked hopefully.
Her eyes twinkled. “Ooh, at the delicious mess hall?”
He laughed. “Yeah, if you’re pressed for time.”
“I am. Let me grab my purse.”
At the Mess, they took their trays to a table. “How are you doing?”
He shrugged. “Keeping it together. Ready to go look for Blue.”
“I can imagine. Do you have any leads?”
“A contact in the Kirikhanistan government.” He explained about Elena, and Alyssa reached out and covered his hand.
“That is so tragic and awful. But it’s good of you to handle her burial. So sad she lost her parents and her life over there. What a brutal way to live.”
“Yeah, after seeing that shit, protecting our freedom takes on a whole new meaning.”
“It does.” She toyed with her food. “Tank, I’m thinking about going back to active duty, leaving San Diego and moving back to San Antonio.”
Feeling as if his lungs were closing up on him, he didn’t say anything for a moment, and she filled the gap.
“I know. We just met, and it’s been so wonderful, but I keep thinking about Echo, about how I can make a difference there for those dogs who come in severely wounded. I want to be an advocate for them; that’s why I started the charity.”
“Only you can make that decision, Alyssa. I support whatever you decide to do.”
Her lips tightened, and she sat back as if she’d expected something more. She rose. “I need to get back.”
He dropped her off, not understanding her obvious anger toward him. There was no good way to discuss this while she was working. Potentially heated arguments were better saved for privacy. He had a funeral to manage, and that required him to be at the morgue in half an hour.
He left the base feeling as if he was losing the one thing in his life that made sense. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do if she followed through.
Alyssa walked back into the clinic and opened her desk, chucking in her purse and slamming the drawer. She’d held it together because she didn’t want to look like a fool in front of Tank. Only you can make that decision, Alyssa. I support whatever you decide to do.
She pressed her fingers to her eyes, refusing to cry. What had she expected? Him to declare that he loved her? That he didn’t want her to go? God, she was such a fool. Just because she was in love with him didn’t mean that he was as invested. They hadn’t talked about that at all.
She was torn between her desire to be here for Tank and moving on to Lackland, taking what she had been offered and proudly serving her country. But, the feelings of wanting to run the clinic she loved and continue to raise money for her charity wouldn’t go away. Her father had pointed out that she was a skilled surgeon and the Army needed dedicated professionals like her. Part of her knew he was being manipulative, but that didn’t diminish the argument. The thought of leaving Tank almost wrenched her in two. He had to be feeling the same way.
But maybe he was being practical. She sat down, glad she had a few minutes to compose herself before she needed to see her next client.
They were caught between serving and their own personal needs. Which one took precedence? He certainly wasn’t going to leave the SEALs for her, and she didn’t want him to do that, make that kind of sacrifice. But she also had the opportunity to continue to serve her country and this was more about compromise. Was she willing to relinquish her commission? Was she ready to go down a different path? She stayed late and caught up on some paperwork, unable to face either her father or Tank. It lightened her load so that she could enjoy Thanksgiving on Thursday. She still had a million things to do for that.
When she got home that night, she sighed when she saw Tank’s truck. That was Tank. The man who didn’t give a damn that her dad was still here. Didn’t worry about the awkwardness. Did he want to talk? She expected him to be up, but when she tiptoed into her room, he wa
s in her bed.
It had been such a bad night for him last night. She’d never seen him so quiet and withdrawn, his expression grim, and Alyssa wondered if he needed space to come to terms with his teammate’s capture. Feeling too raw to wake him, she was careful, an empty ache unfolding in her. She understood his mood; she didn’t want to talk, either.
He had left the bathroom light on, and she paused by the bed, her heart contracting as she watched him sleep. He was lying on his stomach, one arm tucked under his head, his face turned away from her. He had shoved the pillow aside, the position of his arms drawing his muscle structure into deep definition, revealing the even rise and fall of his rib cage. She gazed down at him, an ache forming in her throat, remorse finding a hold among all the other emotions that clogged her chest. He didn’t deserve this. None of them deserved it.
A deep weariness settled on her, and she went into the bathroom and got ready for bed, suddenly so tired she could barely move. Two more days until Thanksgiving, and she was cooking for a crowd. Tank, his two brothers, Dan was bringing a date, Holly and her dad. She slipped into bed beside Tank, relieved she didn’t wake him up.
Tank was up already when Alyssa woke the next morning, the empty space beside her resurrecting the same feeling of aloneness she’d experienced the night before. And her spirits sank even lower when she found out he’d already left.
At some gut level, she knew that something had happened to make him close up the way he had. It hurt to realize he had withdrawn behind that wall of reserve he’d had the first time they’d met, that he had shut her out. The one good thing that had come out of this mess was the new intimacy they had discovered over the short relationship, and she desperately didn’t want to lose that. If that happened, it would be, in some ways, the greatest loss of all.
The next two days were full of getting prepared for the meal she was going to cook. Trips to grocery shop, buying fresh flowers, cleaning her apartment. Tank was absent. He texted her a couple of times and said he was caught up on base, but she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t avoiding her.
