The early-morning sunlight filtered through the bedroom curtains, placing patches of fire across her body…and…Blue’s.

He was sprawled facedown amidst the pillows and rumpled sheet. She kept her movements to a minimum. This was a warrior whose instincts were on alert whether he was sleeping or awake. At this moment, he was asleep, his breathing deep and measured. No doubt he was exhausted from last night. She had put him through his paces, working him over, trying to get him acclimated to her touching his wrists. Until he was desensitized, she couldn’t tie him. She had slept like the dead herself, once she could keep her hands off him. She went into freefall looking at him, her intense attraction to him to blame. God, her warrior was so sinfully gorgeous he ought to be outlawed. She bit her lip and suddenly remembered…he was illegal. What they had done was so against the fraternization policy, but she didn’t care. It was necessary.

Even asleep and completely out of it, he exuded an earthy, sexual magnetism, one she was finding dangerous on so many levels—physically, emotionally, and mentally. The fact that this man had the ability to affect her so completely was a scary prospect she hadn’t been prepared to face or deal with at first.

She caressed him with her eyes, his dark stubble, thick eyelashes, and face soft in sleep, the naked slope of his beautifully muscled back, all the way down to where the sheet barely concealed his hard contours. It was easy to discover how hot-blooded he was, the heat of him warmed her in the night when he’d reached for her and curled her tight into the curve of his body. That had been another startling revelation, how much she’d enjoyed his presence in her bed, casting away the loneliness she’d lived with so long. She was sure she would never forget this man when the time came for them to go their separate ways.

That was a given. SEAL and diver. Deployments and the dedication to the navy were their top priorities. But sadness stole over her, even as the sight of him buoyed her. She couldn’t fall for him. It would be too hard to let him go.

When his warm hand slipped up her thigh to her hip, she jumped, her gaze going to the movement under the sheet that came to her waist. When she looked back at him, his eyes were open, startling as jewels.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that brushed up against her intimately. “Good morning,” he said, a fleeting smile on his lips. He turned to his back and stretched his long, lean body, and she looked her fill of all that bare skin and cut muscle. His hair in the sunlight was on fire with many shades of caramel. As he drew up his knee, the sheet slipped lower on his abdomen, revealing the edges of his red puckered scars.

He went to clutch the sheet to him, but she wrapped her hand around his. “Don’t. After what we shared last night, do you still think you have to hide from me?”

He swallowed hard. “I wasn’t even sure I could be with you,” he said, his voice husky from sleep. “So, it was very special to me. You gave me the space to be who I am right now without judgment. That’s…everything, Charlie. Being a man with you in a normal, natural way feels better than anything has in a long time.”

She nodded. His eyes were dark with pain as their gazes caught and held. The muscles along his jaw tensed, and his mouth hardened, his grip on the sheet just as strong.

“Before we go any further, tell me why this is important to you. Why you need me as much as I need you.”

She bit her lip, her heart hammering. This was the moment of truth where she had to talk about her family. Last night, before they had been together, before he’d stripped away her barriers, she wasn’t sure she could speak about it. Everything was raw and sore as if it had happened yesterday, and she wasn’t sure she could.

But then she remembered how he’d given her the gift of trust. Couldn’t she extend herself just that much more to be the woman he needed right now? She wasn’t sure what he was reacting to, but he took one look at her face and dragged her against him, into his arms. He held her tightly. “What are you afraid of, Charlie?”

“Loss,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I’ll get swept away if I let myself remember.”

“You’re safe with me. I’ll anchor you, babe. I’ll hit bottom and grip on so tight, you won’t even feel the give.”

Her throat was so tight, memories flashing through her head like a movie reel, heart-wrenching, gut-ripping agony.

“You were an angel last night, Charlie. It was so hard to let go of my own humiliation. You helped with that. Let me help you.”

As she listened to his voice, an enormous need unfolded in Charlie. A need for comfort, for assurance, a need for him to simply hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. He turned her face, his gaze connecting with hers, the muscles along his jaw tensing as he stared at her. His voice was quiet and a little gruff. “You can do it, babe,” he said softly. “I’m here for you.”

As if sensing how fragile she was, he didn’t say any more, and she shivered. He drew her against him, pulling up the sheet, his warmth settling into her like a roaring fire. He brushed his mouth against her hair. “Warmer?” he asked, his voice husky.

It was so silly that one softly spoken word made her throat close up solid. Turning her head against his shoulder, she slipped her arm across his waist, a huge ache of longing settling in her.

She locked her jaw together, trying to contain the emotions that were churning around in her chest. If she didn’t do this, she would forever be locked into this tragedy, never able to get past it, never able to trust and be whole.

She went back to the horrible, terrifying turbulence after the gulls had ruptured the engines. The sounds of her mom and sister, how hard they had grasped hands. The frantic, protective look in her father’s eyes, then the helplessness of something beyond his control.

“It was a malfunction with the Cessna we were flying in. A flock of seagulls took out both engines, and we crash landed in the Pacific Ocean far from land.”

Charlie leaned hard against him and closed her eyes. Her lungs refused to function as he held her tighter, the warmth of his body enveloping her, giving her what she needed to breathe. He cupped his hand along her jaw, his fingers catching in her hair as he brushed an infinitely gentle kiss against her temple. Feeling almost drugged, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He held her gaze for a second, his expression taut; then he released his breath on an uneven sigh, his hand trailing down her neck.

Feeling as if every nerve in her body was exposed and trembling, Charlie closed her eyes again, trying to swallow the frantic pulse in her throat.

Everything she’d felt and buried rose up in her: the fear, the pain of her injuries, the hopelessness of their situation, watching them die one by one until only she’d been left alone, so alone.

The sheer fear of the ocean as it washed under her, tossing her around inside the small raft.

“The pilots died on impact, but we were trained for a water landing, and I knew what to do, where the raft and supplies were. I was the only one conscious when I woke up and found us floating on the surface, water rushing in. I was so, so scared.” Her voice caught. “There was so much blood. I had hit my head and it was bleeding, but I went to the door and opened it before it was too late for us to get out, found the raft and the supplies, and pulled the cord to inflate it, stacked everything inside. Water, flares, the GPS tracker, food, everything I could find. By then, my dad was awake, and my mom. My sister was still unconscious.” She paused, her voice almost a whisper. “That’s when the plane started to sink, and we all had to frantically jump into the water. There was a point when I was below my family and everyone was above me. It was surreal, all of us floating. We all worked to get my sister into the raft first, then one by one, we moved into the raft as the abandoned plane sank completely.”

She cherished the physical contact with him, needing it so badly to get through something she hadn’t talked about in twelve years and not fully even then with a therapist who had tried to help her. She gritted her teeth, trying to navigate through all the emotions her memories caused.

“When the shark showed up, blood in the water attracting it, we tried to remain calm, but it was so large. A great white I think. That’s when I noticed the blood in the raft. It was from my dad’s injury, and even when we tried to stem the flow, it had soaked through everything. He realized his femoral had been nicked, and it was only a matter of time before he bled to death as my mom and I watched. There was nothing we could do except bury him at sea.” She shuddered remembering his last moments. Blue rocked her gently. “He was conscious toward the end and he told me how much he loved me, for me to take good care of my mom and sister.” Her face contorted as the memory of his death scored her deep inside. The tears she’d tried to hold back slipped down her cheeks. “My little sister never woke up. She died the third day. My mom and I buried her at sea as well. Little did my dad know that my mom’s head injury was more severe than we thought. She slipped into a coma, then woke only briefly to demand that I hold on and survive. Then she died in my arms. I buried her at sea, too.”

“Jesus, Charlie,” Blue murmured, his ribcage expanding with a shaky sigh. He cradled her head securely against him, then kissed the curve of her neck, his mouth moist and warm against her skin. “I’m so sorry.”

His brief words meant so much to her, filled with his heartfelt sympathy. It felt good to have him here as she faced the terrible loss that had ghosted her for years, releasing the pain and grief she had retained for so long.

“After that, it was a blur. I drifted for a long time. I have no idea how long. The GPS stopped working and the food and water started to dwindle until I had only one bottle of water left. I knew when the water was gone, I was going to be in serious trouble.” She swallowed around the remembered panic. The hopelessness of her situation had hit her hard then. “I was sure I was going to die.”

His voice was textured with tenderness as he whispered against her ear. “Tell me everything.”

Drawing a deep, stabilizing breath, Charlie tightened her arms around his shoulders, her voice uneven when she answered. “I heard the sea crashing around me, then the sound of a really loud horn. I looked out of the raft’s protective covering and there she was, the USS Discovery, a navy salvage ship.” Her eyes filled with tears, and the grief that had been trapped tore from her in a long, agonized cry. She pushed away from him and stumbled out of bed, trying to outrun the memories of losing her family. She’d vowed to overcome the ocean, to master it, and that’s what she had done. She navigated the deep and vast ocean like it was her own backyard.

She ran into the living room and just stood there, her chest heaving in her pain. She collapsed to the floor as Blue gathered her against him, their naked bodies pressing hard, the comfort of him almost more than she could bear.

“You survived, Charlie,” he said as her sobs of agony cramped her throat and scored her gut. There was no going back to her numbness or her denial. It seemed like forever before she could catch her breath, her harsh sobs dwindling to the occasional ragged ones. Blue held her tight and rocked her through the worst of it.

When she was able to think again, she realized they were locked together on the hardwood. She turned her face to his, and he kissed her mouth so gently. “How you doing, babe?”

“I’m okay. It was time I faced it. Thank you for being here.”

“You’re an angel,” he said, his gaze intent. His eyes were dark and steady, and the flutter of awareness climbed to her throat. It had been so much easier with night cloaking them in darkness. In the harsh light of day, the truth seemed all the more painful. The instant he moved, Charlie’s senses went crazy, and she closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath, trying to keep her heart open. When she looked at him again, she was afraid to move for fear of doing something to break the spell. His expression compressed into hard lines. He stared at her, his eyes giving nothing away. Then he held out his hand, and Charlie let out a tremulous sigh as she took it, her grip urgent and tense, almost desperate. He held her gaze for an instant, his hair shining in the sunlight, his cheekbones accentuating the lines of strain around his mouth.

He looked dark and beautiful, but the expression in his eyes made her heart pound and her knees weak.

“Do you think you could make it to the bathroom?”

Loving the feel of him, loving the deep compassion in his eyes, Charlie shook her head. “No.”

He gave her a wry look. Then, as if she weighed nothing, he caught her around her back and behind the knees and swept her up in his arms. “I didn’t think so.”

Turning her face against his neck, she held on, the muscles across his back flexing as he carried her through the living room into the bathroom. Cuddling her securely within the circle of his arms, Blue shouldered the door closed, then carried her over to the shower, shifting her weight as he stepped inside the large enclosure.

He let her slide down his hard, naked body, as he twisted to the controls and soon had hot water cascading over them.

“You’re killing me, lady.”

He smoothed his thumbs over her face, rubbing at the tracks of her tears. She cupped his hands, then leaned up and brushed her mouth against his. “Thank you for being here.”

He caught her chin and kissed her, softly, leisurely, thoroughly, then eased back and looked at her.

He kissed her again, then said against her mouth, “I’m glad you could share that with me.” He felt so good, the water so warm and soothing.

“Maybe you could buy me breakfast?”

He grinned against her mouth and nipped her bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue. “I think I could manage that, babe.”

Charlie gave him a soft laugh, then rubbed her mouth against his. “If you liked the fish tacos last night, you’ll love the chocolate croissants at the coffee shop.”

The memory of her family’s death receded, and she thought about all the other memories of her childhood she’d foolishly locked away with the end of their lives. Maybe she could sift through those when she could bear it.

He pulled her against him, and she turned her head against his shoulder, slipping her arm around his waist, a huge ache of longing settling in her, his touch telegraphing sensual tension that made her breath falter.

Suddenly her need turned into something more. The thought of being locked fiercely against him, of having him widen his stance and pull her up hard against his groin, made her pulse race, and she closed her eyes, so overwhelmed by a rush of hot desire that her knees nearly buckled. Blue caught her against him, his whole body tensing, and through the haze in her mind, Charlie heard him mutter something, his breathing suddenly uneven.

His chest heaved as he locked her head against him, burying his face against her neck. “God, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely. “You feel so damned good.”

All she could do was hang onto 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 lifted her up and pressed her against the warmed tiles, steam billowing around them.

He tightened his hold underneath her butt, his voice gruff and gentle as he hugged her hard and soothed, “Sweet baby. Sweet, sweet baby.”

She wanted him desperately, her breath came in shredded sounds as she waited for him. She was so primed for him, so desperate, that the instant she felt the weight of his arousal against her thigh, she locked her legs around him, emitting a low, tormented cry as he entered her. Two thrusts—two long, controlled thrusts was all it took—and the pressure splintered, her whole body convulsing around his, her clenching release detonating his. He hung onto her as tremor after tremor coursed through him, but in spite of her frantic urgency, he didn’t let his own need take control.

Charlie was trembling so badly that she had no coordination left. Blue enfolded her more securely against him, and even though she was nearly incoherent, his only awareness seemed to be of her. It took her a long time to surface from the blinding release he had given her, before she could let go of the tension that had been building ever since she met him. Finally, she was able to relax her frantic embrace, her legs slackening around his waist as her strength gave way to a disabling languor. His ribcage expanding with a shaky sigh, Blue cradled her head securely against him, then kissed the curve of her neck.

That’s when she realized he was facing her, and her eyes met his like a blue-green wall of water. His hands hung easily by his sides, and he didn’t move a muscle when she dropped her eyes down to his groin. She was prepared to be angry at what was done to him, but it overwhelmed her.

“Oh, Blue…Ocean, oh, God.” She had placed her cuts close to his shaft, some below each hip bone. They were red and puckered, still healing.

He closed his eyes, his body rigid, but he relaxed when she touched him, tracing the scars, wishing she could have spared him such torture. She wrapped her arms around him when she saw his face.

“The worst part is she made me…participate in my own humiliation using drugs. I was out of my mind with lust. It was demeaning.”

She bit her lip and held him tight. “She’s the monster here, Blue. These scars make you human. I’m so glad you survived. So glad.”

His arms tightened around her, and it was a long time before they left the shower. Slipping back into bed, they wrapped their arms around each other and fell back to sleep.

---

San Diego, California Somewhere in the foothills

Scarecrow dreamed he was home. He dreamed he was in that beautiful place on the edge of the bayou, near the Muddy Bottom River. He dreamed he was at peace and the gnawing guilt and the violence in him was calmed, gone.

The sound of his name on a woman’s lips startled him. It was sultry, warm, filled with the kind of laughter that echoed in the shadows of his heart. He turned, restless, kicking off the covers, his body hot and aching, lightly perspiring. He turned his head to watch her, but she disappeared into the grove of magnolias that lined his parents’ home. There was a lilting laugh, a taunt that sounded foreign to his ears, an accent he couldn’t quite hear.

He rose and looked toward the house to find it on fire. The sultry woman called to him, but the house, his parents! Everything was burning. He ran toward the sounds, the screams, and found himself on a battlefield in his SEAL gear. There were so many dead faces, so many bodies.

A man rose from the gore, covered in blood, his face obscured. His breathing increased, and the familiarity of the man shook Scarecrow to his core. Who? How could he know someone responsible for this carnage, for this abomination against humanity? How was it possible that he…

He woke up. Sat up straight in bed, his breathing hard and uneven. Sweat slicked his body, the sheets damp. He pushed back the covers on his naked body and headed for the sink, dousing his head and neck in a stream of cold water from the tap. He lifted his head, and cool water soothed as it ran down his neck, chest, and back. He closed his eyes on the horror and tried to breathe around the dream’s message. His hands clenched, and he drank right from the tap, great huge gulps of water.

He pressed his hands against the sink, his big body flexing with the images and the sound of the woman’s voice. The fire…even now it felt urgent that he take his next available leave and go back home.

He didn’t even bother to towel off as he went back to his nightstand and picked up his phone. He knew it would be early in Bellise, his hometown nestled right next to Cajun Country in Red River Parish, but he couldn’t wait to hear his mom’s voice.

“Hello,” she said when she connected, her voice sleepy. His chest eased out, and he tightened his hand around the receiver. He was an only child, and his parents’ health and well-being were up to him. He was understanding more and more that they needed monitored care, and a neighbor wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

He closed his eyes at the regret of having to make those decisions, taking away their independence, but it was something he had to do that he couldn’t put off anymore. He’d been conceived and born later in their lives when they had all but given up hope of ever having a child. His dad was into his fifties when Scarecrow remembered how hard he had tried to be there for his son who was completely physical and taxing. He’d been into everything—sports, activities, volunteering, school functions. He’d gotten his mom’s sweet Southern charm and his dad’s tough but fair demeanor.

“Mom,” he said, his voice breaking unexpectedly.

“Arlo? Are you all right, my angel?”

She always called him that, and he could hear the sheets rustle as she sat up in bed, concern in her voice.

“I’m okay, I just had a bad dream. Are you and Dad all right?”

“Of course. We’re fine.” But he could hear the fatigue in her voice, and he regretted that she had to handle the burden of her aging husband on her own.

He’d wanted the SEALs ever since he could remember. He worked hard to get to BUD/S, and he’d never regretted a moment of the blood, sweat, and tears he’d put into achieving that dream. Except when it came to his parents.

Changes were coming, and he was resolved to get home as soon as he could.

“I’m going to come to visit as soon as I can get leave.”

“Oh, Arlo, that would be so wonderful.”

Her joy-infused voice made him smile. “I love you, Mom.”

“We love you, my angel boy. Let us know as soon as you know.”

He disconnected the call after he said his goodbyes. Right now, he had a team on the verge of collapse and a missing member that was hurting something terrible. He’d added to that with his stupid behavior. He loved Blue like a brother, and he had taken his rage and his feeling of powerlessness and shifted it to Blue without meaning to.

He showered and got dressed and was soon on base. Once in the locker room, he checked his gear. They could ship out any moment, so it was imperative that everything was shipshape.

He heard a noise and turned. Tank was standing in the cage’s door, his arm propped. He looked troubled and uncomfortable. One thing big bad SEALs did not like talking about was their emotions. It made them pull into themselves. But they were close-knit enough to weather this storm. They would be a whole unit again.

“You look like shit, Crow,” Tank said, then folded his arms across his chest.

“Good morning to you, too, asshole.”

“We fucked up.” Tank sighed and rubbed his face. It was clear to Scarecrow that he hadn’t slept well. Scarecrow also didn’t have to guess at what he meant. “I fucked up. Wicked fucked up. You guys are in the dark.”

“Yeah, doesn’t make us any less torn up about Blue. We have to fix this,” Tank said.

Scarecrow rose and stepped closer to Tank, his voice raw when he spoke. “We can only talk to him. We can’t fix a goddamned thing. We got him out as soon as we could. Wicked and I did things…but I’d do them all again to spare him what he went through.” His guilt was eating a hole in his gut. He wanted nothing more than to apologize and, like Tank had said, fix it. They might be gunslingers, tough to their freaking core, but when it came to a team member, there was no holding back. He felt good saying that he’d messed up. Felt good that he could admit it to Tank.

“I’m going to see him.”

Scarecrow stiffened. “What? You can’t, Tank. You’d be AWOL.”

“Do you think you and the guys could cover for me? I won’t be gone long, just enough to fly there, see him, and fly back.”

Scarecrow rubbed the back of his neck. He should be the one to go, but maybe he should just let Tank go. He was feeling a lot of the same guilt. Tank had been standing right next to Blue when that RPG had started the fracturing of their team. “Go. Make it as fast as possible. I’ll pass the word and we’ll cover for you. God help us if we get a call for a mission.”

“It doesn’t matter if we do. If we don’t start picking up the pieces, we’re all going to be screwed anyway.”

Scarecrow couldn’t argue. “I got your back, big man.”

Tank left, and Scarecrow went on with his day. In the late afternoon, Ruckus came up to him on the firing range. He had perused the rows. The man wasn’t an idiot.

“Have you seen Tank?”

“Uh, he’s around here somewhere. I think he was going to work with Bronte.”

Ruckus pinned him with one of his don’t-screw-with-me looks. “Do you think I was born yesterday, sailor?”

Fuck. “No, sir,” he replied. His LT might be one of the best there was, but every man in this team respected him.

“I’ve heard the same thing all morning from your teammates. He’s in Panama City.”

Scarecrow blew out a breath. Double fuck. “Sir…”

“Save it.” He stepped closer to Scarecrow. “Do you think you can’t trust me?”

“No, sir. I’m one hundred percent sure I can.” Dammit, he hadn’t wanted LT to get involved. Not telling him was required, but it was clear Ruckus was missing the big picture. “Deniability, sir.”

Something eased in Ruckus’s eyes, and Scarecrow let out a breath. “I get it. I sent him away to get better, Mr. Porter. I sent him to clear his head, work with students and make him realize he needs us as much as we need him. It was a calculated risk, but he’s dealing with some pretty heavy demons. I honestly don’t know if he’ll get back to us, but my money is riding on him…hard.”

“Yes, sir. I understand. But—”

“But what?”

“He needs to know we’re behind him. I don’t think he’s feeling that right now.”

Ruckus narrowed his eyes in thought, then huffed out a heavy breath. “I want him back on the team. That’s for sure, but you’re right. About Tank, carry on.”

Scarecrow watched him walk away. His concern for them and for Blue was why they would, to a man, walk into hell and kick the devil’s ass if he asked them to. Tank wasn’t the only one who needed to talk to Blue.

He turned around after Ruckus left to find Cowboy, Kid, Wicked, and Hollywood standing there. Cowboy braced his foot on one of the table supports and grabbed the top of the booth, the gleam in his eyes full of hell, his drawl deliberate. “What’s going on, Crow? We’re tired of being in the dark about Blue. He got banished and we don’t even know why. How can we have his back if we don’t know what happened?”

Scarecrow studied the three of them, then glanced at Wicked. Their eyes held for a minute, then Wicked nodded. They were all concerned and on board with healing this rift in their tight ranks.

“Crow. I swear to God I’ll kick the shit out of you if you don’t tell us,” Hollywood said, his usual charm gone, nothing but a promise in his eyes.

Kid shifted, his eyes glittering. “Individually we are one drop, but together, we are an ocean. He needs us all to understand, Crow. We have no secrets from each other.”

Scarecrow thought that was an accurate statement, except for Wicked. He kept his own counsel about his past.

He sighed, the sensation of betraying Blue strong. He’d already been through so much, but the alternative was leaving these guys in the dark and the further splintering of their team. They were stronger than this. They were stronger than anything. It was time to clue them in.

---

When Blue woke up for the second time, he felt better than he had in months. What they had shared, their mutual pain, bonded them tighter than he thought was possible. This girl had the heart of a lion and the will of a predator. When she set her mind to something, there was no quarter.

She stirred next to him, and he whispered, “I’m going across the street for coffee. Follow me in a few.”

She’d murmured, “All right.”

He left her condo complex and walked down the path. A man caught his eye. There was something that tripped Blue’s very sensitive warrior instincts. Something about the look of his eyes. Predator, Blue thought immediately. When he passed him, the guy paid him no heed, but Blue couldn’t help getting an uneasy feeling. He never ignored his gut.

He got to the coffee shop and ordered his drink, then picked out a chocolate croissant. He went outside to find a table and stopped short. Tank was standing there, his hands in his pockets and a sheepish look on his face.

Blue came over and sighed. “Are you AWOL?”

Tank smiled. “No. Not exactly. Maybe. I’ll make it back in time.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why am I here? We didn’t exactly part on good terms, Ocean.”

The use of his first name jarred him. Tank was making this personal. “It doesn’t matter. LT probably won’t let me back on the teams.” God, it hurt like the fuck to say that more than it did when he’d said it after he’d been banished to Florida.

“LT is rooting for you. We all are.”

Blue looked away. Some of what he was feeling before Charlie seemed to have disappeared. “I’m working on getting back, Tank. It’s going to take time.”

Tank didn’t touch him. Instead, he put his big, muscled ass right in front of him. “Jesus, you’re closed up like a drum. I got something to say, and I’m going to say it, so you can just cool your jets and hear me. And if you pull that shit you did with Crow, I’m going to kick your ass, patch you up, and make you listen anyway.”

Blue sighed.

“Good. Sit, surfer boy.”

Blue walked over to one of the tables and sat down. Tank followed him and took the seat across from him. Blue spied Charlie, and Tank didn’t miss the look. He turned around, then looked back at Blue. “You don’t waste any time.”

“Shut up, Tank,” Blue said under his breath.

Charlie reached the table. “Hey,” she said, and Tank rose like a gentleman. Geez, Alyssa was a good influence.

Charlie gave him a quizzical look. “This is one of my teammates, Thorn Hunt, but we call him Tank.

“I can see why,” she said looking up. “Wow. You look like you could roll over anything.”

Tank chuckled. “I like her.”

“I do, too,” Blue said before he could stop himself. Charlie grinned, then glowed.

“I’m going to get coffee. Be right back.”

She walked inside the shop and Tank sat down. “You are one big surprise, Blue.”

“What was it you came to say?”

“I remember the first day I walked into the ready room. It was filled…with our team, with Alpha. I was the last guy to get there.”

“Tank, I don’t need the long version.”

“I’m telling it my way. Close your mouth.”

Charlie came back out and sat down between Blue and Tank.

“I was still a bit green handling Echo. But he took to you all like you’d raised him from a pup. It was like we were all best friends right off the bat, but there was one person who drew us all together.”

Blue tried to ignore the pressure in his chest. He didn’t want to hear it.

“Our LT described him as a boy-next-door type on steroids. Loved that touchy-feely crap but could balance it with his fierce warrior instincts and a Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi master, sage philosopher attitude who would often stun us with his insights. The guy was centered like I’ve never seen anyone, able to bring us together, keep us in line and be our moral compass.” He looked away, but Blue couldn’t seem to. He stared at Tank’s strong features softened by his compassion…and his respect. Something shifted in Blue, and it only made him want to live up to that reputation. He wanted to be that man again.

“That fucking op…Echo, you. So many dead,” Tank whispered. “When I couldn’t find you, I thought: He’s here. He’s got to be here. He’s always here.” His voice broke a bit. “But you weren’t.”

Blue took a cleansing breath and looked away. His isolation had been nothing but a fabricated wall that was keeping him from healing, his drinking nothing more than self-medication to keep him from believing that he wasn’t worthy of the brotherhood. Believing his long-ago inability to tell the truth and do something about his friend’s shame and despair had galvanized him to always act with integrity, no matter the cost. It had molded him into the kind of man Tank had just spoken about. And that was where his thoughts about being worthy of the brotherhood had come from. That incident had escalated in his head, sent him spiraling out of control into an abyss he would have died in if it hadn’t been for Charlie.

He wanted to be that man again if only he could be worthy. That meant getting his balance back. Finding a middle ground where he could put the past behind him and find his center again.

Natasha had disempowered him, humiliated him, and degraded him. He had then become truly a prisoner, a victim. She’d taken the fundamental core of him and torn it to bloody shreds, driving home to him what sheer terror was, cutting deep to the truest, purest part of him.

As a warrior, it was hard to wrap his head around the fact that he couldn’t always protect himself no matter how competent or skilled he was. Natasha’s assault not only violated his physical self but also the intellectual, social, and emotional part of him. It triggered his vulnerability issues from when he was twelve and for the first time in his life had realized the world was a dangerous place. He’d relied on his parents to protect him. And they had pretended it never happened, trying to return to normal. Back then he hadn’t had the maturity to deal with it, but he did now.

But his friend Rory had needed him, he hadn’t known how to react to Rory’s pain, or his fear and his resentment. How many times had someone told him to man up? It was easy to understand from following the normal cues. He’d been taught guys were tough. He was told from the time he could remember not to show weakness, leading him to automatically push down his feelings in favor of appearing strong and impervious to emotions. When Rory had turned to drugs and alcohol, it was too late for Blue to help him.

Tank cleared his throat, and Blue met his eyes without flinching. “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. Sorry that I was distracted by Echo, so much so that I neglected to have your back. Sorry that we didn’t find you in time and then lost you. That tore all of us up, hitting LT hard, hitting us all hard. We had to watch that chopper fly away with you inside, knowing we were too late to save you from torture. We all lived in our own private hell. Wicked and Crow went off the reservation, sanctioned dogs of the Kirikhanistan government.” Tank clenched his fist on the top of the table. “Don’t judge Crow too harshly. He’s hurting, too. I think that whole thing made us all fracture a little bit more. It broke down our team, and man, that is our foundation. We’re brothers in arms and always will be. So, fucking finish out this assignment and come home where you belong. We’re SEALs. We’re the brotherhood, and we’re not going to let this defeat us.”

Thorn “Tank” Hunt was probably one of the toughest SEALs Blue knew except maybe Wicked. Alyssa St. James had changed him into someone who knew himself. Someone who had weathered a shit-ton of guilt and come out the other side. He was a fine man and an exemplary warrior. Blue was proud to serve with him. It meant everything that Tank felt the same way.

“Hooyah,” Blue said, his voice uneven and gruff.

“Hooyah, brother.” Tank checked his shiny dive watch. “I’ve got to go. Think about what I said. We’re SEALs. The only easy day was yesterday.” He stood and reached out his hand, and Blue took it, finding himself in Tank’s tight embrace.

They parted, and as Tank turned away, Blue murmured, “Thank you, Thorn.”

Then Blue spied the guy who had been outside Charlie’s condo, only this time he was openly watching them. Blue rose, every instinct on point. He started across the street, and Tank automatically covered his back. “What is it?”

“I think that guy’s watching us.”