“Tank, you haven’t been discharged.”

He was already sliding his feet over the side of the bed. He wasn’t going to stay here and let them euthanize Echo. No fucking way. With anger eating away at him, he swore savagely, so damned mad he could barely see straight. He didn’t want to acknowledge the fear and how he had spent his life trying to be careful, but Echo had gotten in. The guilt about Blue rode him hard, too. He couldn’t do anything for his teammate, but he could do something for his valuable partner who was fighting for his life. If he wasn’t careful, this woman would also slip beneath his armor. Then there was the pain, the downright agony of losing Echo forever without seeing him again. It almost broke him in half after that dog had saved their lives. “I don’t give a damn. I’m not letting this happen.”

“Tank! Please!” She rushed over to the bed and pushed down on his shoulder, grabbing his wrist when he reached for the IV. Her grip was strong as hell. “Wait, don’t you dare do that.” Her face went white and part of him liked that she cared about him, but the other part was determined to get out of the hospital and on a flight to Texas.

He got in her face, urgency running through him. “Don’t tell me what to do, Doc. I’m going,” he said, his tone deadly quiet. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed.

She never backed down one inch, her gaze as unwavering as his. She grabbed his wrist and wrestled with him.

Tank closed his eyes, a knot of raw emotion climbing up his throat. He waited for the aching contraction to ease, then growled, “He saved us. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here. None of us would. We were ambushed!” His voice broke and he swallowed.

She went stock-still against him, then looked at him, her eyes wide, her expression transfixed by a host of emotions. Her expression was strained as he held her gaze.

“I have to see him. I’m fine. You can’t stop me. I have ninja moves you won’t see coming.”

Alyssa stared at him for an instant; then her eyes filled with tears and she hugged him like there was no tomorrow. His throat closed up completely, and he shut his eyes and turned his face against hers, hugging her back.

Trying his damnedest to get rid of the big lump in his throat, he ran his hand up her spine.

She leaned back, tight compression lines around her mouth. She released a long breath and tightened her hand on his wrist. “I didn’t say you couldn’t go. Just…for the love of God. Listen to me for once in your stubborn life.”

He froze and locked on to those hot, tough, intense green eyes. “Talk fast, woman.”

“Let me get the nurse and have her remove the IV, get you your clothes, and get you discharged. I don’t need MPs chasing us down the hall and all the way to the airport. Besides, you’ll want to get dressed so that gorgeous backside isn’t flapping in the breeze for everyone to see.”

His mouth twitched with a flicker of humor. It wasn’t lost on him that she thought his butt was gorgeous, but his need to get to San Antonio and Echo superseded everything, even this inconvenient attraction to Alyssa St. James. “You can bounce a quarter off my ass, lady. It won’t be flapping anywhere.”

A sparkle of amusement appeared in her eyes, and she tipped her head to one side. “I can’t argue with that.”

His mouth twitched; then he sobered. Tears appeared, and she looked at him, her heart in her eyes. “I’m not going to stand by when a hero is in jeopardy.” With tears glistening in her long lashes, she caressed his face, infinite gentleness in her eyes, then leaned forward and whispered, “I promise that to you, Tank.”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

She let go of him and backed away. “I’m the one who can help you now.” She gazed at him, silently imploring him as she took the steps to the door. “Give me a few minutes.

Fuck. With those few words she turned his apple cart upside down. He’d only ever needed his brothers; his parents had let him down, but he had always been able to trust not only his biological brothers, but his brothers in arms. They had never let him down and would always have his back. But this beautiful, desirable woman was muscling her way in. He had to admit that he needed her. No one else had not only the guts but the connections to get him to see and save Echo.

He was expected to just simply give her his trust?

Women hadn’t exactly been the most reliable parts of his life.

What made him think Alyssa would stick to her word?

All he wanted here was the status quo. He had to stick to the way it had always been, that was familiar, or he was going to have to deal with the consequences. It was much more than getting his ass in a sling with a violation of the UCMJ and the Navy.

He didn’t have to wait long. Before he knew it, a nurse came into the room, followed closely by the attending physician.

“I understand you want to be discharged.”

“Yes, sir,” Tank said, his words coming out more belligerent than respectful. “I know you only have me here for observation. I need to be in San Antonio. My MWD—”

He held up his hand. “Your friend has already explained the situation to me, Petty Officer.” He looked at Tank’s chart. “My sympathies.” Then he looked back up. “I’m willing to discharge you as long as I have your word you will rest.”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Alyssa said, and her words should have made him want to chew glass, but her support only stabbed him right in the heart. Damn her.

“Make sure you watch him constantly.” The doctor pursed his lips and was deep in thought. “I’m not crazy about you flying out of the state, but I understand the urgency. If you have any breathing issues or feel faint, I want to hear from you. Is that understood, sailor?” He pulled out a card and handed it to Alyssa as if she was his keeper. Tank bristled. No one kept him. He took care of himself and his brothers.

“Copy that, sir,” he said, working at staying calm. Agitation wasn’t going to get him to Echo, and that’s all he cared about right now.

“The nurse will remove your IV and we’ll get your discharge from the hospital started. Good luck with saving Echo.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and allowed a begrudging gratitude toward Alyssa. “Thank you, sir.”

He had to wait patiently for the nurse to remove his IV. When she was done with that, she got his clothes for him, then she and Alyssa left.

His chest still hurt from the blast. He suspected it was soft tissue damage from the impact. He was lucky he was wearing body armor and that shell had landed far enough away from them not to liquefy their organs.

He paused for a moment, remembering the way Echo had streaked across the compound, unearthed the man waiting for them, attacked, and valiantly risked his life for them. If that RPG had been fired straight at them. All of them would be dead.

Then there was Blue. The guilt ran through him again. He was supposed to have his back, and something had happened to him. He was sure Ruckus wouldn’t rest until he was found and was even now making sure the search for him was thorough and a priority. The SEALs would pull out all the stops to bring him home. Tank felt as if he’d let Blue down.

Shaking himself out of his memories, he powered through getting his underwear on, then his jeans. Leaving them unzipped and unbuttoned, he shrugged into his shirt.

“They almost have your discharge papers ready. You just need to si—” Alyssa stopped and just stared.

“I’m moving a little slow.”

She eyed him, then folded her arms over her chest. “Is that your roundabout way of asking me for help?”

“No, I don’t need—”

She crossed the room and reached for his jeans, and that shut him up completely. He tried to ignore the heat settling in his groin while she zipped him up. A blush settled in her cheeks. This tough as nails woman blushed from a zipper and a bare chest? Maybe she wasn’t as…sexually active as he’d been. That made him want to take her shoulders and turn her toward the bed and fall on her. The thought of getting her naked and pushing into her was not the most cooling thought right now, especially with her hands on him.

He knew how to make a woman scream, and getting down and dirty with a willing partner was as heady as combat. Until this moment, he’d considered it the best part about women. But Alyssa was the exception to the rule. She’d blown his rules to smithereens. As effective as lobbing a grenade at him and saying, take that, sucker.

She buttoned him up, then did up his belt, still focused on his chest, her hands brushing against the exposed skin of his waist. And it was a laser focus, as if she’d never seen a man’s pectoral muscles before. Or was it that she had never seen him? He knew how he was built, and he was big everywhere. He understood his attraction to Becca. She was temporary and they both knew it. But his attraction to Alyssa was confusing. He’d always steered clear of the kind of woman that was looking for and demanded commitment. There was nothing that felt temporary about her. Not a damn thing. He’d known violence his whole life and she hadn’t. Probably grew up in a nice neighborhood in with all that she needed.

He was wild, destructive, lethally dangerous when it came to his everyday life. It served him well as a SEAL, but as a potential significant other it felt negative when he thought about being with Alyssa. Would she think of his survival skills and his training negatives in a relationship? Why was he even thinking about this?

But the way she was looking at him said she wasn’t that innocent. He had to wonder about her inhibitions and what would happen if she let go of them. Their eyes clashed suddenly.

It was a wild woman looking at a wild man.

And he felt wild.

He wanted his mouth on her, everywhere on her, but especially where the heat of her would be the most scorching. He wanted to make her come, then take her and make her his.

He was damn near electrified with the closeness of her body, all those sensuous, silky curves pressed up against him, all that blushing innocence that he sensed in her flush against him with no daylight or breath between them.

He needed something—a freaking clue, her mouth on his, restraint, a drench of cold water to douse this heat, this need for this beautiful, sexy woman.

He was doomed.

“Alyssa,” he spoke her name softly, like that could possibly save him from what he was feeling. His hand came up to cup her cheek. Yeah, he was on a freaking roll, and it was all rock bottom from there. “Pretty butterfly.”

“Thorn,” she said so softly, it was like butterfly wings against his skin. She’d crossed the line by calling him by his first name. An officer never used a rank and file’s given name; it was considered familiar and could build the kind of bonds that would compromise her authority and show favorites. Not done in the military.

But she was so take-his-breath-away beautiful, looking up at him with that wild tumble of dark hair framing her face, her skin so soft, her gaze full of longing and locked onto his like she was drowning, he couldn’t give a flying fuck.

“Thorn,” she said again. “We need…we should—”

Yeah, he got it all right. They needed and should do anything they wanted, anything she wanted from him, give each other everything they had been missing. She was holding on to him like she was never going to let him go, had him up real close and personal. He could feel the rise and fall of her breasts on every breath, and so help him God, hoo-yah, it was fogging up his brain, giving him a bad case of tunnel vision, with her the only light at the end—those aching green eyes rimmed in thick dark lashes, so lush, her face devoid of any makeup. Stunning.

He was usually stronger.

But not today. Not when she’d vowed to save Echo and he was losing his cool and walking the knife’s edge between this breath and the next.

It was the brotherhood he could trust, but Alyssa was making some pretty powerful inroads.

Once, he told himself, kiss her once. Just one kiss to see him through.

It was asking for trouble, more trouble than he could handle—and he knew it.

But that wasn’t going to stop him.

Holding her gaze with his own, he lowered his mouth to hers and watched as her eyes drifted closed in readiness for his kiss. It was all so damn easy. He heard her hold her breath, felt the sensual heat of her draw him closer and closer—wild, dangerous butterfly.

He took his time, an eternity, barely touching his lips to hers, wanting to hold every breath of her inside himself, to savor every moment until he pulled away. In the past, he would have plundered and devoured, taken and demanded.

This was her fault. She was the one who was irresistible to him. It was all her, all the way, from the first crumbling of his outer wall of defense all the way through to his total surrender. He’d kissed more women than he could remember—so many lips, so many throwaway times.

But it wasn’t any contest. She was the new yardstick.

Just the smell of her was enough to get him hard, and the taste of her…

He opened his mouth wider, took more of her, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, and she was no damn help at all. She pressed herself against him, sliding her tongue along his and making a soft sound from deep in her throat that ran through him like fire, lighting him up from his brain to his balls.

The phone by the bedside rang and they broke apart as if they were both just waking from a dream. They blinked at each other and then Alyssa moved back. He reached for the phone. “We have your discharge papers ready for signature, Mr. Hunt.”

“Thank you,” he rasped.

He hung it up.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “I’ll just pretend it didn’t happen.”

He let her think what she wanted, but he wasn’t about to forget one moment of it. She was looking at his chest again. “The shirt’s not going to button itself,” he murmured, the smile on his face uncontrollable.

She raised her eyes to his and they were again a very snappy green. She reached out and he could feel her fingers shaking. Not as cool as she wanted him to think she was.

She focused on the buttons until she had them done up, each stroke of the back of her fingers a hot agony against his skin. Her blush was back.

He reached out and slipped his index finger under her chin. “How many men you been with, Alyssa?”

Startled, she blinked a couple of times, then her eyes narrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one. I want to know.”

She raised her chin, her eyes snapping. God, was it wrong that he loved that about her? “It’s none of your goddamned business.”

That struck a nerve. Her defenses were definitely up.

“I’m sure you’ll need more than your fingers and toes to count your conquests.”

“If you want to know, just ask me. I’ll be honest.”

“I’m sure you will.” She reached for the sling, her movements jerky. Helping him get his arm settled inside it took only a few minutes, then she stepped back. “I’m going to forget all about all of this. You will, too.”

Not damn likely, he thought to himself. He was going to be spending the next few days with her, and even with the knowledge that he was already way past crossing the line, he couldn’t seem to pull himself together. She hadn’t protested too loudly until he touched that very exposed nerve.

For the first time in his life, he was fascinated by a woman, snagged so thoroughly he couldn’t seem to even preserve his own self. But she was worth the risk. All he had to do was minimize it. He’d like to tell himself it was all about getting her into bed. He wished it was about the physical. That would have been much easier to deal with.

* * *

Blue woke up, barely able to breathe around the pain in his head. He was under some heavy blankets on a flat, giving surface. He couldn’t move, he was so exhausted. He opened his eyes to the rough beams above him. He reached for the memory of how he was injured but discovered…nothing. There was a blank space where his memories should be. It hurt his head to try harder, so he drifted back toward sleep. He woke up again, this time from the sound of someone close to him. With an excruciating effort, he turned his head and wasn’t sure if he was seeing something real, or a gorgeous blonde angel minus the wings.

His beautiful savior had the kind of body with shapely curves that made him wonder and imagine what she’d look like naked, with nothing but his hands painting her supple, creamy looking skin with caresses. Then there was all that silky blonde hair the color of rich honey, those bright blue eyes that were full of life and light as if she glowed from within, and that sweet mouth of hers that looked like it would smile so guilelessly managed to fuel some fantasies of how soft and sensual her lips might feel sliding against his skin.

He pegged her at five foot five, a good eight inches shorter than himself, but the confident way she carried herself, combined with her angel beauty, made her seem larger than life.

She did look like an angel, but his thoughts were anything but saintly.

Her gaze locked on him and she smiled with a sweet, genuinely-happy-to-see-you grin curving her lips. “Hello,” she said in English, but with a slight Slavic accent. “My name is Elena Sokolov. You’re on my family’s farm.”

She had a bowl in her hand decorated with a navy-blue background, red fruit, and tan leaves. She knelt down with a smile. She had on a wool sweater that looked handmade, dark pants, decorative boots on her feet. Steam rose from the contents in the bowl. He groaned when he tried to focus, so he closed his eyes.

“What is your name?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t remember.” He realized that should upset him, but every time he tried to focus, his head would hurt even more, so he gave up.

She made a soft sound. “I’m so sorry. Hopefully, it will come back to you.” He felt the spoon against his lips and he opened his mouth. Rich, savory broth filled his mouth, thick on his tongue as he swallowed.

“That’s very good,” he said, opening his eyes and once again getting caught up in the beautiful angel who said her name was Elena. “Thank you for helping me. What happened to me? Do you know?”

“You must have been in some kind of battle. You’re obviously American and you’re wearing a uniform. I found you in a field and brought you here.”

Soldier? Battle? He reached for what he suspected he would have around his neck—his dog tags, but there was nothing there. “Did you take the small metal plates from around my neck?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. I looked for identification, but there is nothing on your uniform. I suspect you are special forces. I removed it for safety. Your uniform and the one boot you were wearing are buried in the hay in the barn,” she said. “What would you like me to call you?”

He didn’t know why, but he said, “Blue. Call me Blue. Where exactly am I. What country?”

“Kirikhanistan. Boris and Natasha Golovkin run this area. If they find you here, I don’t know what they’ll do to you. Me, I will be executed for harboring the enemy.”

He tried to rise, but she soothed him back down. “Don’t worry. I am good at talking. They won’t suspect you. We will get you to safety, but first you must be able to move and walk. Your injury was severe.”

“All right. You saved my life and if I can’t trust you, who can I trust?” he murmured, losing the thread of the conversation as he floated toward sleep.

He felt her gently touching his head, then the feel of something wet against the side of his head. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he felt her wrap his head again. Then she pulled the blankets over him and tucked them around him.

“Rest now. You’re safe here.”

He fell back to sleep unable to hold onto anything concrete except for his beautiful and angelic rescuer.