The next day, when she woke up, Tank was gone. She decided it was better this way. Easier.

Shortly after that, she got a call from her commander. “I’m just calling to find out if you’ve made up your mind, Alyssa. You need to make a decision about active duty and taking that plumb job at Lackland.”

She hadn’t been able to get what happened to Echo off her mind. If she was there at Lackland, she could make a difference. Her personal needs would have to take a back seat to serving her country, no matter how much that hurt. “I’m going to transition to active duty and take the job. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” He started to talk about going to Lackland, interviewing with the director, moving, paperwork and a million other things, but Alyssa had just effectively ended her relationship with Tank. Everything else was just semantics.

As soon as she hung up with her commander, she was called into an emergency at her clinic. A dog had been hit by a car and needed immediate surgery. She spent hours repairing the damage, and it was touch and go a couple of times, but when she closed, the black lab was going to have a chance to make it.

When she went to leave the operating room, Jordan said, “I’m so impressed by you, Doc. You have a gift.” That’s exactly what the anesthesiologist had said to her at Lackland.

She had to close herself into the bathroom as the combined emotion hit her at once—losing Tank, then having to give up her clinic when these people needed her sent her into a tailspin.

Over the next few days, she went through the motions. She and her dad left San Diego and flew to San Antonio. After landing, they drove to his house and she settled in her old room. She’d have to look for a place, move, sell her practice, and leave all her friends behind. Feeling shaky, she kept pushing her emotions away.

She went through the motions of eating, making conversation, washing, sleeping. Then when she woke up, she went to dress in her uniform. She pulled it from the hanger and simply stared at it. She backed up and sat on the edge of the bed.

Then with a shaky sigh, she got dressed, made sure she was polished and spit shined, her hair ruthlessly pulled back into her customary bun. Her dad waved from the table where he was having his breakfast and said, “We can have lunch after you’re done.”

She nodded and got into her rental car and drove to Lackland like an automaton. She entered through the doors and headed for the director’s office. But as she rounded a corner, she ran right into Stephen.

For a startled moment, she stared up at him, then she said, “Why didn’t you adjust for my job?”

His chin went up and his eyes flashed. “Why couldn’t you adjust for mine?” he shot back at her, his mouth flattening out, his resentment clear in every word. “I was offered a once in a lifetime opportunity. I couldn’t turn it down, but you were caught up in your own selfish goals, Alyssa, as if you thought you were better than me. You could never seem to see mine.”

“You wanted me to compromise because you’re the man and that’s what is expected of women. Your desperation to outdo me is what the problem was, not my awesomeness. Fuck you, Stephen. We never really had anything. It was built on a foundation of nothing in the first place. I know I’m better off.”

“You’re such a know-it-all cold bitch. Have a good life, Alyssa. I hope you choke on it.”

He brushed past her, and she had to place her hand on the wall to steady herself. To face the ugly fact about their marriage. She hadn’t seen his goals because she was too focused on proving to her dad that she was as tough as a man. But her marriage to Stephen had many more problems than her unwillingness to compromise. It was his resentment every time she excelled. He was never really there for her and she told herself that was okay, but emotions didn’t rule her. It was more about her not realizing that she and her husband weren’t compatible. He wasn’t supportive. If she hadn’t been so worried about giving into her emotions, she would have been more in touch with who she was and what she needed. He was never going to be that man, not in her heart, not in her bed. Not wanting to come to a compromise with Stephen was her deep-seated way of telling herself she wanted out of the marriage. It wasn’t the distance that killed it. It was Stephen’s narrow-minded expectations.

Her breath caught, and she came alive again. The numbness disappeared. Instead of going to her appointment, she went to the front desk and filled out a very important piece of paper. She was ten minutes late for her meeting.

She walked into the director’s office. “Hello, Dr. St. James. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I feel that face to face interviews are much better than talking through a computer.” He indicated a chair.

She didn’t move. Instead she said, “Forgive me for keeping you waiting, but I’ve decided to leave the Army altogether. I won’t be taking this post. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

With that done, she reached back and pulled her hair out of its bun, and as it came unraveled, so did she. She turned and exited the office, the director sputtering in surprise.

What had she done?

Pressing her fingers to her trembling lips, she ran, feeling freer than she ever had in her life. She’d convinced herself that this was exactly like what had happened between her and Stephen, but Tank wasn’t Stephen. The situation wasn’t the same at all. She’d let her fear of the distance Tank’s service to his country would take on her. But this wasn’t about distance, it wasn’t about love. This wasn’t a compromise at all. She realized that’s exactly what she wanted to do. She loved her practice. She loved what she did for the community. Loved the charity and making MWDs more comfortable and safer in their service.

But most of all, she loved Thorn Hunt and she couldn’t live without him.

When she got home her dad was dressed and sitting in the living room listing to NPR. He rose when she came in.

“I can’t go to lunch and I can’t be what you want me to be.”

He walked toward her. “What? Are you all right?”

“No, Dad. I’m not Robbie. I’ll never be him. Your son, my wonderful brother, died, and I could never fill his shoes.”

He looked at her, a shocked expression on his face. “Alyssa—”

“This is me, Dad. I work hard, but I love harder. I’m messy and emotional and complicated. I’m a woman! I’m not a man and I don’t think like one and that doesn’t diminish me at all. My femininity defines me, and I love high heels, pretty dresses, letting my hair down and makeup. I can’t be the son you wanted, but I’ll be the daughter I know you love.”

He stiffened. “Why are you bringing your brother into this?”

“Because his death devastated you, Dad. You wanted me to take up his mantle as some way to assuage your grief. Holding onto his potential through me.”

He looked away, his eyes fluttering. “I didn’t…I couldn’t…”

She touched his arm. “You did, Dad. I felt it and I won’t let you diminish my emotions. I know what I feel, and I know how it’s affected me. Be strong so that our relationship can move past this. It’s time for you to embrace your own emotions.”

He rubbed absently at his face. She’d never seen her father cry, not once. Not even at the funeral, but his moist eyes showed her that she should have had this talk with him long before now. “I’m going to put the past in the past. I’m going back to San Diego to run my practice and be with Thorn. That’s my decision and I’m so happy about it.” She turned to go, and he stopped her with a soft touch to her arm.

“Give me some time, Alyssa.” He paused and rubbed his hands over his face. “I guess I was so devastated by your brother’s death, I just pushed everything I had hoped for him onto you. Over time it got lost in the mix and I started to believe that you wanted the same things.”

“You take your time. We both need that. We’ll talk again,” she said.

“Oh, Alyssa.” He embraced her, squeezing her tight. “I’m so proud of you for all your accomplishments. I think you’ve proven your brother’s shoes never really fit you. They were too small.” He cupped her chin and said. “Go find your tattooed hunk.

Six hours later, she was back home. Home where she belonged. She resigned her commission and went to the clinic to find Jordan. Tank hadn’t answered any of her calls. When she spied Jordan, she rushed at him, and he stepped back at her enthusiasm.

“Where’s Tank?”

“He’s deployed. He’s due back in an hour.”

She kissed him on the cheek and laughed. “Thank you.”

She made the airfield in record time and paced until the C-130 carrying her man landed. With other family members, she went onto the tarmac. She recognized Ruckus’s wife Dana and Kid’s wife Paige. Cowboy’s fiancée was also there.

The sound of hydraulics filled the air, drowning out the zoom of planes landing and taking off and the general chatter of the people waiting for their husband, dad, significant other. The rest of the world fell away when she saw him deplane and walk toward her on the tarmac.

Thorn “Tank” Hunt. Her future.

* * *

Another dead end in the ever-vigilant search for Blue. Even the careful inquiries to the Kirikhanistan government were frustrating. He hated diplomacy. He did his politics from the business end of his weapon.

The tarmac was crowded, and it parted as he made his way toward his truck. Again, he hadn’t been able to get Alyssa off his mind. He’d second-guessed himself so many times, he was giving himself a headache and a complex. Maybe he should have told her how he felt. Maybe in this instance being an obstinate jerk and telling her he didn’t want her to leave was what she needed to hear.

But it was too late. She’d made her decision and sealed it up by now, was all ready to pack up and move—

His thoughts abruptly cut off when he saw her. Dressed to perfection in a pretty dress and coat, her hair blowing in the wind, her face enhanced by the subtle application of makeup, she was stunning, but she was always stunning being her plain Jane self. His heart stalled. He dropped his pack and surged forward. Reaching her, he grabbed her and swung her around and she laughed with glee.

Setting her on her feet, he cupped her face. “I don’t want you to leave. It killed me to let you go. I want you in my life. Forever, Alyssa. Tell me it’s not too late.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Damn, Alyssa…I hoped you’d change your mind—” He got choked up, his voice strangled. “I was afraid.”

She stared at him, then she closed her eyes, and said, holding on to him with desperate strength, “Shut the hell up and kiss me.” Closing his own eyes, Tank roughly turned his face against her neck, locking his arms around her. Inhaling raggedly, he tightened his hold on her, an agony of relief rushing through him. She gave a soft sob and he picked her up in his arms.

“Hey, Hunt, you dropped your pack,” Hollywood said with amusement in his voice.

“Take care of that, would you? I’m busy.”

“You got it, bro.”

Tank walked off the tarmac to his vehicle. He took her back to his house and straight up to his bedroom. He pulled her onto the bed with him and faced her, fully clothed. He was hard as a rock for her, but he wasn’t done talking. “I want to explain.”

“You don’t have to, Thorn.” She reached for his buttons, but he covered her hands.

“I want to, babe.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “Talk fast, then. I have to take my turn, too.”

“I had to work hard to keep everything together growing up. To survive. There were so many things that could kill us, least of all my father. He killed my little sister and he walked away from it. I’ve been protecting the people in my life instead of supporting them. Jordan’s illness opened my eyes to how separate I was from them. Dan, too. He does a dangerous job and I am so proud of both of them. We made it together. Fuck everything else.” She moved, and he clenched his teeth against the powerful surge of sensation. “But I got here because of you, Alyssa.”

He met her eyes, his face contorting with raw emotion as she came fully into his arms, fusing herself flush against him. His face pressed against her neck, he hung on to her, grateful—God, so grateful—for her. “No one else could get me there.”

Making a choked sound, she tightened her arms around him and turned her face into the curve of his neck, her voice watery. “All I want is to be with you, Thorn. I came here to tell you that I turned down the position and I’m resigning my commission and leaving the Army completely.”

He held her with all the love and strength he could muster. Finally she drew a hard breath.

“I’m doing this for us,” she whispered brokenly. “I want to be there for you when you come home, handle things so you don’t have to worry about anything and can focus on saving the world. She cupped his face, caressing his face, her heart in her eyes. “Because there is no doubt in my heart that I love you more than life itself.” He hugged her hard, holding her so tightly, so grateful. “That’s the way I can continue to serve my country. I’m doing it for me, too. I thought I had to somehow fill my brother’s shoes. Do what he would have done, to make his death mean something.”

“You are enough exactly as you are, babe. It doesn’t matter what your dad thinks.”

“I know that now.” She smiled and it was the most beautiful thing to him. “All my life my father’s been dictating to me who I should be. I couldn’t be the son he lost because I am the daughter he has left. He is the one who has to reconcile that, not me. I’ve done the work and I don’t need commissions and a uniform to seek my own path. All I need is you, our charity and my clinic. I love you, Thorn Hunt, so goddamned much that the thought of not being with you brings me physical pain. You’re my one and only, my warrior, my man, and I pledge to support you and protect you forever.”

His chest was so full of her and he’d never been this happy in his life. “Then move in with me, Alyssa. I love you more than I could ever express. I need you in my life.” He didn’t know how he would have gotten through the loss of Echo if it hadn’t been for Alyssa and her pushy, know-it-all attitude. He’d needed a swift kick and she’d given him one.

She gave a soft, shaky laugh, caressing his face.

Shifting her so that she was on her back, he braced his weight on his elbows on either side of her head, holding her face between his hands. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Is that a yes?”

“Um…yes, that’s a yes...” She swallowed hard and smoothed her hands up his back, her eyes filling with tears. “…on one condition.”

“Name it,” he said, brushing his mouth over hers. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his hands off her.

“You and Bronte be my spokesperson and spokesdog.”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“Spokesdog? I can one hundred percent say I’m your man, but I’ll have to ask Bronte about that.”

As he dropped his mouth to hers, he was always aware that they were missing a team member. We’re coming for you, Blue. Don’t give up.

Tank had surrendered to Alyssa and let control go. Blue knew what he was talking about. Be the fish was his cryptic message, and Tank finally got it. A fish swims in a sea he cannot control, but has no illusion of control. He just swims with the flow, dealing with it as it comes. He would do exactly that. He’d immerse himself in the experience, live each moment and try not to control the outcome, but deal with the flow as it came.

* * *

Blue stared at the space between his feet, watching water drip off his hands and puddle between his bare feet. The soles of his feet were raw from being forced to walk the length of the cell for half the day. They were either dunking his head under water or prodding him through the cell bars with a baseball bat to walk and keep moving. His body hurt from all the jabs, and once he’d grabbed the wood and yanked hard, smacking his tormentor’s face against the bars. The guy now had a broken nose.

That got him no food or water, and he was running out of stamina to fight back. Which is what they wanted. He hadn’t slept in at least forty hours. Or was it thirty? Time meant nothing except a string of minutes stretched with pain. His clothing was soaked, but nothing mattered right now.

The anguish at seeing Elena gunned down was balled up and shoved into a place he refused to open. He called it his guilt box.

He barely found the strength to keep his head upright. It thumped against the wall.

His brain was fuzzy, time and day lost in his disorientation, and his stomach rolled loosely. No light came into this dark place. The light that had beautiful blonde hair had been snuffed out.

He tried to use his sleeve to wipe off the dirt on his hands. In the dark it looked like blood, and even in the back of his mind where sanity still existed, he knew he was in a state of delirium.

They’d taken everything.

The tall doors opened and some light penetrated the darkness. Men came in and dragged him out of the cell. They sat him in a chair, tied his hands, and his head lolled. Fear ripped down his spine. There was a syringe and the needle pricked his arm.

He barely registered it.

“Tell me your government’s plans.”

He laughed softly. He had no memories for them to access.

He blacked out, and when he woke up, he was being dragged between two men. He was in a different location and he shivered with the cold. They hauled him through ornate doors that closed behind him with a great, terrible boom.

Many people thought hell was hot.

But they were wrong.

It was cold. Very, very cold.