Tank (SEAL Team Alpha Book 4)

by Zoe Dawson

  He grabbed his coat and left the cabin. The ground was hard, the new snow creaking beneath his borrowed boots as he aimlessly walked through the fields. The branches of the trees glistened with white as he made his way down the trail through the trees along the brow of the hill. He inhaled deeply, the sharp, cold air scoring his lungs. But it was good to move. The physical activity good for his muscles. He’d been serious when he’d told her he wasn’t leaving without her. If the rebels got even a whiff of a clue that she’d been hiding him right under their noses, they wouldn’t hesitate to make an example out of her. He couldn’t risk that, and he couldn’t, in good conscience, go home and figure out his life while she was here in constant danger.

  He ducked his head to avoid a low hanging branch, shivering when cold snow hit the back of his neck.

  Elena was just coming out of the house when he rounded the barn. It was clear she was looking for him.

  Tucking a stray curl back into the loose knot of her hair, she wiped at her cheeks, then broke into a run. She threw herself against him, and he stood there absorbing the feel of her.

  He slung his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. Once inside, they sat down to eat, and she taught him how to play Durak, a Soviet card game.

  Finally, as it got late, she got up and stoked the fire. Looking over at him, she whispered, “I’m sorry about refusing to go, but you have to understand. This is going to be so risky as it is. I have to get you safe. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

  He let her believe that he was okay with it for now, but there was no goddamned way he was leaving here without her. He was prepared to throw her over his shoulder and take her with him with or without her consent.

  Tank stood at the entrance to the kennel. He’d done some heavy thinking after his talk with Alyssa last night. In the past, he’d gone his own way. He always had to be in charge because his life had been so out of control with the constant moving, the unpredictability of his mom, the disappearance of his dad, the loss of his sister and his fierce need to protect his brothers. One feeling was prevalent in all those situations: his feeling of powerlessness. It caused him to rebel not only in his manner of appearance or in his music, but sent him into a spiral in the opposite direction. In an effort to take control of his life, he’d lost the definition of what it meant to be supportive.

  He’d assumed the protector role as second nature, and joining the SEALs only extended that need to be the shield where anyone or anything met its match. He’d dismiss the term hero because he was part of a team that embodied all that he held dear.

  He should have known that she would understand, and he experienced a huge amount of relief that she’d forced the issue with Bronte. He should have known it wasn’t the dog’s fault. He was the one confusing the hell out of her.

  He was broken up about Echo and he’d needed the time to come to acceptance that his stalwart companion was no longer a part of his life. He had to wonder if he’d feel that emptiness forever.

  She understood so much about him, and her acceptance mattered more than he’d realized.

  He’d had no idea what it could mean to be part of a relationship, something real and intimate between a man and a woman. He’d thought he’d only needed close male relationships in his life, that women were nothing more than a way to fulfill his physical needs. But it wasn’t females in particular, it was exposing his vulnerability. It was easy as a man to keep his personal thoughts and his heart guarded when he’d only allowed himself close male friendships and his brothers were just like his SEAL buddies. Emotion was masked or glossed over with humor. But a woman didn’t accept that kind of crap. Alyssa was an exception, and it was a huge, shocking revelation to realize that her opinion mattered the most. With sudden clarity, he knew that was part of the reason he’d avoided her for two months, because his subconscious had obviously known what his emotions hadn’t been ready to face or accept—that this woman who challenged him at every turn, who was there when he needed her, and who gave of herself so openly and generously when they made love, could very well be the one for him.

  And more than losing Echo, more than handling combat stress, more than anything in his life, he feared getting deeper with Alyssa. With her life in flux, her opportunities that could take her away from San Diego. But it might be too late. She had herself wrapped around his heart.

  It had been a gradual thing until now. Now it was a complete forest of tangled vines.

  He hated that he was afraid and vulnerable. It brought back that feeling of being out of control and helpless.

  He took a deep breath and released the latch, stepping inside. There was something exciting about being in a place where canine warriors lived and thrived. If there was one defining trait, one successful characteristic of all Navy SEALs, it was that they couldn’t stand losing—and they refused to quit. Ever.

  He’d had a low point with Echo. He still missed him like hell, and he’d been unfairly comparing Bronte to Echo. She wasn’t Echo, and his baggage regarding his first K9 companion had to be jettisoned. He could say that she did have the needed trait that reflected every Navy SEAL in the Teams. She just wouldn’t quit.

  He stopped in front of her kennel and she immediately focused on him. Her attention was razor sharp. She was telling him that she was ready to work even if he was being an obtuse asshole. That was good, because he was ready to really commit and put Bronte through her paces.

  He put her on the leash and they exited the kennel. He’d asked the kennel master to set up the most difficult course of explosive detection he’d ever dreamed up. But before they got to that, he sent her through agility.

  Before they had been caught in an unforgiving triangle with Echo at one of the apexes.

  As painful as it was, he took Echo out of the equation. This wasn’t a threesome with Echo’s influence affecting the way he perceived Bronte. This was what he had and wanted to build: a partnership between him and her.

  That was all it was, except in this equation, one plus one didn’t equal two. They equaled one strong meshing of man and dog into a single, unstoppable fighting entity.

  He worked her for twenty minutes to tire her and then really give her a chance to show him what she was made of.

  He took her through the kennel master’s course and she found every single explosive.

  Back at the field, he pulled a ball out of his pocket. To her credit, she didn’t move, but her whole body shivered with anticipation and pent-up desire for the object he was holding. She was beautiful as she sat there, her dark muzzle cocked, her whiskey dark eyes riveted on him.

  Her prey instinct was off the charts. He resisted comparing her to Echo. He was out of the equation, and Tank wasn’t using his memory and emotions regarding his beloved partner to score Bronte.

  He threw the ball, and before he’d even released the object, she was racing after it in a show of blazing speed. For the first time since Echo had been wounded, Tank smiled as he watched Bronte, taking sheer pleasure in the caliber of dog the Navy had entrusted to his care.

  She was bold, powerful, stubborn, and dominant. But what made his heart sing was that she was absolutely crazy about getting that ball.

  He approached her as she chewed on the object. Reaching down, he said, “Release.” She immediately complied. She gazed up at him, once again focused like a laser on him. He crouched down and grasped her head, “Good girl. We’re going to work together, you and I. We’re going to do what’s necessary to complete every mission we’re given. You up for that?”

  She barked, and Tank laughed softly, the part of him that had unconsciously walled himself off from Bronte embracing what he had here. The females were filling up his life, and if he couldn’t have Echo by his side, then Bronte was an exemplary new warrior to fight with him on the battlefield. She wouldn’t hesitate at all. She would use that nearly out-of-control pursuit in the field and charge into unknown environments without fear.

  “You’re pretty focused
, Bronte,” he murmured. Her unflappable disposition was golden. “That’s good because we’re needed. We save lives and you’re going to love my team and they’re going to love you.”

  With a hitch in his chest, he reached back and pulled out Echo’s favorite toy. The navy blue tug. “Come get it,” he said releasing her from her charged immobility. She lunged at the square piece of sturdy stuffed cloth and clamped down. As he wrestled with her, his trust in her grew when she twisted her body and took him down to the ground. Then she gave him slobbery kisses as if to say, no hard feelings, but I’m going to bring it every time.

  He wouldn’t want it any other way.

  After showering, his cell rang and he saw it was Alyssa. “Hey, babe.”

  “Meet me at Juniper and Ivy in fifteen minutes. It’s on the outskirts of Little Italy. I’m taking you out to dinner.”

  He smiled. “I’d rather have you here in some interesting position so that I can have my way with you.”

  “Afterwards,” she teased before laughing softly and disconnecting the call.

  He dressed in what made him comfortable: khaki pants a cross between joggers and cargo pants, tight to his hips with slim legs, pockets, and a drawstring closure; a black sweater beneath a quilted jacket with a hood and ribbed cuffs. On his feet, black laced-up combat boots.

  He drove downtown and entered the three-story, open-beamed warehouse-sized restaurant. It was full, but he saw Alyssa was already there in the back. When she rose, he had to take a moment to admire her. This wasn’t the same woman he’d dumped coffee on the first time they’d met, all buttoned down and neutral. No, this Alyssa was vibrant with color, her hair in soft waves down her back, her face subtly made up, even lipstick on her gorgeous mouth. He thought the caterpillar had absolutely turned into a butterfly with that rich coral and the uneven skirt of her dress adding the perfect ethereal touch to an already striking woman.

  They embraced and the scent of her went deep inside him. “You look stunning,” he whispered.

  “You look good enough to eat,” she whispered back. He was loving the way she was embracing her flirty side.

  They settled into seats and a waiter poured some wine into their glasses. “I took the liberty of ordering,” she said.

  He took a sip and let the flavors of blackberry, raspberry and sunshine in the Cabernet she’d chosen roll around on his tongue. Nodding to the waiter, he picked up his menu as she picked up hers. “I saw you briefly on the training grounds. You and Bronte looked awesome.”

  He smiled, feeling lighter and freer than he had in years, and Alyssa was the reason. He stared at her, met her green gaze and wanted to tell her everything he’d just discovered about himself and how much he wanted her to be a part of his life, but he was fairly certain she wasn’t ready to hear something so life-changing, even worrying a bit that she wouldn’t find him a suitable, permanent choice. They both had work to do. If he’d learned anything about Alyssa, she was just coming into her own, dealing with her own personal issues with some work still ahead of her. She was a kick-ass woman, but stuff from her own past needed to be addressed. Anyone dealing with that kind of emotional baggage was vulnerable. From his own revelations, she’d taught him to treat those emotions with care.

  “Mostly because of you. You taught me that being protective wasn’t enough, offering support and putting myself out there even though it was uncomfortable would break me wide open. You were right.” He was wide open, and it was scary in a good way. “I had a good session with her once I stopped using Echo as a shield against bonding with another dog.”

  She leaned forward and placed her hand over his. “What you do isn’t easy. The training, the dedication and the effort. But nothing prepares you for bonding with an animal. It’s uncontrollable and such a necessary part of a partnership. You can’t skimp on it one bit or you run the risk of real danger. No dog will ever be able to hold back on unconditional love. They’re just not wired that way. It takes a very strong person to do the job you do, not just as a SEAL, but as a military working dog handler. I admire you so very much for pushing past your loss of Echo and moving on with Bronte.”

  He turned his hand and laced his fingers with hers. “It’s been hard, but the only easy day was yesterday,” he said, repeating one of the SEALs favorite mottos. Those words were truer now that he’d been through the transition from one dog to another. But he had a feeling that his relationship with Alyssa was going to be the one that ultimately could make or break him.

  Their meal was delicious, and he followed her back to her apartment, anticipating loving her until they fell exhausted into each other’s arms. They were almost past the point of no return when someone knocked on her door. To their surprise, the lock twisted, and Tank barely got his pants up over his thick erection before grabbing and covering Alyssa with the throw on the couch before the door opened.

  A tall, older man came in, wheeling a suitcase, but stopped dead, his expression changing from one of anticipation to shocked surprise, then a disapproving frown as his eyes went over him.

  Alyssa jumped up from the couch and said, “Daddy!” They all just stared at each other until Alyssa said. “Wait here.” She hurriedly grabbed up their clothes in a bundle, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she pulled him into the bedroom.

  “What is he doing here?” Tank growled.

  “I cancelled my Thanksgiving plans with him because…well, I just didn’t feel up to going. I have too much on my mind to deal with my dad’s…advice.”

  “I’m just glad he wasn’t carrying a shotgun…if he had come in five minutes later, he might have gone looking for one,” Tank said, his eyes dancing.

  She giggled, then wrapped her arms around him. “Believe me. Back home, former Colonel in the Army, Kyle St. James has one in his truck. I don’t think he toted it from Texas.”

  “That’s something.” He laughed softly, then groaned softly when she pressed up against him. His dick was so hard and aching, any pressure against it sent him into pleasure overload.

  “Oh, dammit.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, kissing his mouth, her cheeks still flushed from his arousal of her and her embarrassment at having her father walk in on them. “You’d better go.”

  “I’d rather come,” he said, and she giggled again.

  “He’ll know what we’re doing up here.”

  “Yeah, right. Finding a half-naked guy in his daughter’s apartment probably tipped him off that you’re having sex. I don’t give a crap what he thinks. You, on the other hand, I care very much about.”

  “You are so bad, but I am a grown woman. Leaving you like this is just a plain waste of a mind-bending, body-rending fuck.” Then she looked up at him, a hot, mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Screw it. He can wait.” She reached for his pants and pushed them down and off him.

  13

  His erection came free and she wanted to go down on him, but there wasn’t enough time. God, what had happened to that repressed woman she had been? Tank had helped her find her inner bad girl, and she couldn’t get enough of her brave new inner world.

  He kissed her, the throw dropping from around her body, and he crowded her to the bed. “I’m so hard for you, babe,” he whispered hoarsely.

  She couldn’t even answer him, couldn’t even tell him how desperately she wanted him. All she could do was hang on to him, trying to surface above the heavy throbbing that threatened to swamp her. She wanted him now, needed him now. One hand clamped around the back of her neck, he slid his hand over her butt and drew her hard against his pelvis, his hold viselike, the feel of him wrenching a broken sob from her. A shudder coursed through him as he lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

  He dropped them down onto the mattress, bracing their fall with one hand, Tank’s deep moan vibrating from his wide chest. She buried her face in his neck, her breath coming in shredded sounds as she arched against him. She was so primed for him, so desperate, that the instant she felt the weigh
t of his arousal against her core, she locked her legs around him. He fitted himself to her and she emitted a low, tormented cry as he entered her. He withdrew and thrust back in to the hilt, finally filling her the way she longed to be filled—beyond what she believed was possible for her to take. And he didn’t stop there. He increased the tempo of his strokes, each one a little faster, harder, deeper than the one before.

  “Fuck, Alyssa.”

  She closed her eyes and shuddered. His words were just as urgent as the unbearable pressure building between her legs and setting her aflame once again, as reckless as the demanding, aggressive way he plunged into her again and again and again. Two more thrusts—two long, controlled thrusts were all it took—and the pressure splintered, her whole body convulsing around his, her clenching release detonating his. He hung on to her as tremor after tremor coursed through him, but in spite of her frantic urgency, he didn’t let his own need take control.

  Alyssa was trembling so badly that she had no coordination left. Tank enfolded her more securely against him, and even though she was nearly incoherent, she felt this man all the way to her heart.

  A heart that was falling in love with Thorn “Tank” Hunt.

  It took her a long time to surface from the blinding release. But the thought of her dad waiting for her just outside the door sent adrenaline rushing through her system. She felt that she’d been burned so hotly in Tank’s fire, she was now tempered steel. It was time to face the music.

  Once they had recovered, Tank dressed; the sound of his cell phone going off on the end table near the couch sounded ominous behind the closed door. It’s ring sent him out of the bedroom sooner than her. She heard him answer as she did a quick wash, pulled her hair back and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a green T-shirt with ARMY across the front in white.

  Tank was near the front door, his jacket in his hands. Her father had brewed a pot of coffee; she could smell the aroma. She glanced at her dad, who was sitting at her dining table reading on his laptop while sipping from one of her mugs.