Tank ripped off the sling, then cursed as his shoulder wound protested. He threw it and his bag across the room. The suitcase hit his coffee table and it overturned, sending a glass bowl hurtling across the room to smash against the wall. Multi-colored glass tinkled and chimed as the demolished pieces of the bowl spread across the carpet.

He grabbed his cell phone and pressed Dan’s contact. The call connected, and Dan said, “Hey bro. Did everything work out with Echo?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Really good.”

“What’s wrong? You have your teeth clenched and your ass-kicking voice going.”

“I need you to pick up Jordan and come over right now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. I can’t drive right now. I need you to do this, Dan.”

“All right. I’ll get him—and we’ll be there in a few. Chill, man.”

Chill? Dan had no idea his world was going to be altered. Jordan hadn’t told either one of them. He knew Dan wouldn’t have kept this from him.

He paced and finally gave in and got some of the pain medication from his bag, took the tablets, and sat down on the couch, cradling his head in his hands. He’d been afraid to take it after that first night with Alyssa. God, he’d wanted her. It was still an ache from his balls to the tip of his dick. Kissing her had been a big mistake. Now he knew what it was like to have that mouth, all soft and moist. She kissed like an angel.

He’d been uncharacteristically chatty that night as well. He blamed the damn drugs. He wouldn’t have ever talked that much. He didn’t do the bonding thing with women, and crying wasn’t his thing. He’d never expected that beauty to blindside him. The tenderness he felt for her lay like a constant ache on his heart.

He knew his limitations. They were intense.

Dealing with the loss of Echo as a partner was mild compared to losing him to some unfeeling asshole who was too fucking lazy and incompetent to understand that Echo had just been through a traumatic situation. He’d been separated from his handler, and it had been as hard on the Malinois as it had been on Tank. If he hadn’t been medicated, his Navy career might just be over. He would have beat that jerk to a bloody pulp. He clenched his fists. The sexual frustration mixed with the devastating news that Jordan may be sick ratcheted up the tension in him to unbelievable levels.

He had to see the damn shrink tomorrow, and he wanted to go like he wanted a root canal or bamboo under his fingernails. Making the decision to bail on the MWD program was his own business. Alyssa had been completely right. There had been underlying reasons, but not hidden ones. First, he couldn’t even fathom another dog matching Echo’s skills, smarts, speed, and intuition. Secondly, the pain of almost losing him was something he hadn’t expected. He knew they were part of the military, not pets. But trying to stay detached from an animal who needed affection and attention was impossible.

Now Echo was out of the picture and he had no idea how he was going to handle that. Right now, he was just hanging on, trying to accept that things were changing in his life. Jordan was sick. Echo was recovering, and Blue was still missing.

He’d thought once he’d put East LA in his rearview, he’d get a handle on what he was feeling. But it wasn’t going to work that way. He couldn’t outrun all the things that were chasing him. And he sure as hell couldn’t outrun himself—or images of her.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alyssa as she’d been the night she’d saved Echo: a tough, fierce protector of his buddy. He’d watched her tell off her ex-husband through the glass. Every nuance of her face, her disgust and anger so evident in her lush mouth and expression.

Her ex-husband hadn’t deserved her, but Tank wasn’t sure he deserved her either.

He remembered that awful stricken look in her eyes when he’d left her after she’d spilled the beans about Jordan.

He made a soft sound in his throat, the changes in his life challenging him. He had strived so hard for the status quo, to keep everything balanced, and now that was shot to hell and it was a brave new world.

And he didn’t like it one damn bit.

He had learned a long time ago how to erect barriers; especially as a kid, he’d perfected the fine art of putting on armor to protect himself and his brothers. He’d relied on that when he’d had to shut Alyssa out or drag her down on top of him and do her like he wanted to. Now everything was shifting around like loose baggage, and it scared the hell out of him. He knew deep down in his gut there was no future for them. There was too much crap in the way. He relied on the brotherhood. That’s what he did.

But damn, no brother ever smelled like her, no brother could soothe him, no brother could be what she was to him. Hell, friendship with a woman, one with respect and a deep abiding gratitude—he’d never seen that coming.

The fact that he wanted to sleep with her over and over again only made him feel even more out of control in situations that were taxing his ability to cope.

When he heard the car pull up outside, he went to the door and threw it open. They were coming across the lawn, and Dan was laughing at something Jordan said. The accident came back to him like it was yesterday. The crash of metal, the car rolling, windows smashing, and his little sister’s cries cut off abruptly.

He closed his eyes and waited. “Hey,” Dan said as he passed Tank. “You look like hell. You should get some rest.”

Jordan came right behind him, and Tank slammed the door, grabbed his little brother by the shirt collar and growled. “Why the fuck do I have to hear that you have cancer from Alyssa?”

You could hear a pin drop in the instant that it registered on Dan’s face. Along with Jordan’s realization that he was going to have to do some fast-talking because Tank was in his roll-over-anything rage.

“Calm down,” Jordan said. “I know I should have.”

“You’re telling me to calm down when my little brother is sick! This isn’t a broken bone, Jordan!”

“I know.”

“You know.”

Jordan struggled out of Tank’s grasp and walked into the living room. Dan was evidently speechless because he just sat down on one of Tank’s big leather chairs and stared at Jordan. Jordan righted the coffee table and sat down on the sofa.

Tank couldn’t sit down.

“I’ve spent my life protecting you, Jordan. I’ve been there for you.”

Jordan’s mouth compressed and his dark brown eyes flashed. “No you haven’t, Thorn. You’ve been playing war games.”

Jordan had been too young to remember Jelsena. He’d spent a lot of his younger years trying to get their old man’s approval. Tank had tried to fill his father’s shoes.

“You told me what to do, and sure you protected me, but I never felt your support. You were always deployed. I think you love that dog more than me.”

Tank stared at him, his face rigid, then swung his gaze to Dan. “You feel the same way?”

“Jordan, Jesus, really man. If it wasn’t for Thorn, both of us would have been dead by now, just another statistic He was there for us.”

He turned his attention back to Jordan, a look of pain on his face. “No, Dan, he was separate from us, not accessible. I feel sometimes I don’t even know you.”

Tank stared at him, the muscles in his face taut. Jordan’s words were like physical blows, and Tank folded down into the other leather chair. He closed his eyes. What was happening here? They were splintering, and his family was falling apart. Or—a twist of pain wrenched his gut—had he ever had a family at all?

A look of anger and frustration on his face, Jordan shook his head and stared off into space. Finally, he looked at Tank, the defiance replaced by fear. “I didn’t tell you about the cancer because I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to do it while you were training. You seemed so far away most of the time, like you’re fighting a war in your head. I get it. The SEALs are tough, and you belong to Uncle Sam. But you belong to us, too, Thorn. You belonged to us long before the SEALs. I need more than your protection. I need your support. And after you came back, after Echo was wounded, I thought I should just wait. It’s not like the cancer is going away.”

“You know something, Jordan? I don’t give a damn what your reasons are. We can deal with those later. I’m your brother and I do care about you. Christ…it’s killing me to know you could have cancer.”

“Try having it,” Jordan muttered.

“He’s right. You should have told us. Regardless of all the shit it seems we need to work out, we are a family. We have stuck together through some pretty terrible, harrowing stuff. We made it out of a shithole,” Dan said.

“Look, I’m sorry. That’s how I feel.”

“You have a right to your feelings, but you should have brought these up to me a long time ago. How can I address something I don’t know about?”

Jordan grudgingly looked at him. “You have a point.”

“I don’t like that you think I’m not supportive or accessible. I’d do anything for you, little brother, or Dan. Anything.”

Jordan leaned back, his face contorting. “I know.” Tank rose and walked over to the couch. He grabbed Jordan by the back of the neck.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered. “So scared.”

Dan rose and grabbed Jordan’s shoulder in silent support. Tank did his best to be the support Jordan said he needed as they talked about the next steps, like finding the best damn doctor they could. Sometimes the strong exterior slipped—for all three of them—but Tank refused to let himself completely break down when his little brother needed him most.

Hours later he was lying on his bed, and he tried like hell not to miss her warm heat, her presence. But it wasn’t working. It hadn’t been the fraternization that had held him in check…it had been his deep-seated fear. Fear of showing any affection for anyone, fear of laying open his heart and having it stomped on.

It was different with the brotherhood. That was men bonding over war, over life and death decisions. There was an expected and silent code that they would have each other’s backs. But they were men, and a relationship with a woman was infinitely different. He loved and trusted each of his teammates. But he had to wonder how they were all feeling now.

His armor was so damn thick. Had been until Alyssa had showed him what real support was, what real and true friendship was, what tenderness and care looked like. He got a glimpse of what he could have with her—not every woman was like his mother. Then, Jordan had pierced what was left of his armor with his words like blades, cutting him up. But even then, Jordan was his brother; they would work this out. Now that his eyes had been opened, he saw clearly for the first time in his life, and if he didn’t try to be a better man because of it, he would die inside.

Just maybe he needed more than the brotherhood.

Because of Alyssa, he couldn’t seem to get his detachment back. Who was he kidding? He’d never had it with her. The way he’d left her haunted him and would haunt him for a long time. He didn’t know if it was guilt or regret, but his throat closed up every time that image took shape in his mind, and the hollow feeling in his chest spread a little more. It had, without question, been one terrible way of saying goodbye.

He had never, ever thought of himself as a quitter. If he had, he would have rung that damn bell and washed out of BUD/S. But right this moment, that’s what he was. He’d go into a million battles without fear, but the tenderness and care of one woman sent him into a tailspin. He had been a temporary lover. That’s how he defined himself. A good fuck with nothing to give. Sex. Hot and dirty.

But now he wanted to be something more. If he didn’t overcome this fear, what would that make him now that he’d acknowledged it?

A coward.

Plain and simple.

Navy SEALs weren’t cowards.

Plain and simple.

* * *

After his leave was up, he went back to active duty. He made sure he said all the things the therapist wanted to hear. He was still working out shit himself. Jordan had an appointment with another oncologist. He hadn’t been happy with anyone so far. Tank was still struggling with the fact that Jordan hadn’t told him something so important, but he was willing to fight alongside him against this disease.

His own grief, he buried. He had to have his mind in the game or he was going to end up dead. He arrived at the hospital, and when he rounded a corner, he ran right into a candy striper. He grabbed her arms and steadied her, ready for an apology.

“Becca?” His jaw dropped open and he gaped.

“Thorn. Hi.”

“You work here?”

“I volunteer. What are you doing here?”

He was still trying to get his head around the pretty pink princess working at the hospital, emptying bedpans and playing fetch. “My brother’s sick.”

“Dan or Jordan?”

Again, Tank was floored. He had no idea Becca even remembered their names. Something else that he had overlooked.

“Jordan.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. What does he have?”

“Maybe cancer. They’re still doing a lot of tests.”

Her face twisted into a horrified grimace. She was sure going to have to work on her bedside manner.

“Look, my daddy’s a patron of this hospital. I know the best oncologist. You should get an appointment with her. I can pull strings. She’s had a fabulous success rate. Let me get you her information. Where are you going? I can bring it by.”

He told her where they would be. “What has gotten into you?”

“You mean me volunteering?”

He nodded.

“It’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

“I saw the work you were doing for the MWD charity and I read up on SEALs. I was so impressed by everything you had accomplished. I looked at my life. All I cared about were cars, partying and shopping. I could do so much more. I was a spoiled brat, but now I’m taking an interest in my daddy’s company. I think I almost gave him a heart attack. Philanthropy, I think, will suit me. But before my daddy starts letting me fundraise, he wants to make sure this isn’t a whim. So, I’m proving it.” She grinned. “At least the uniform is pink.”

He chuckled.

She reached out and ran her hand down his arm. “I know it’s over between us. But we’re just friends with benefits anyway. And, to be honest, I want someone long-term and committed.”

Did this little bit of a thing just blindside him? He was starting to think the same thing, but with the obstacles in their way, he wasn’t sure how it would resolve with Alyssa.

She patted his cheek. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”

True to her word, Becca showed up with a card and information. She flushed when she met Dan and there was a decidedly just as interested look in his eyes. But then it was gone, and he thought maybe he was seeing things.

* * *

When he walked into the ready room after getting a summons from Ruckus, he found it empty. His LT sat at the head of the table on his laptop. “Hey, boss? Any word on Blue?”

“No, not yet. Intel in that area has been difficult at best, but the brass isn’t giving up. As soon as we have a location, we’re going in to get him out.”

“Copy that. Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re not coming. This is between you and me.”

“Oh. Okay. What’s up?”

“You’ve gotten orders to report to the kennel to start training with your new dog. Are you ready for that?”

“I got cleared, LT.”

“Is that what I asked you, Tank?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you ready?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why?”

“Echo tore me up. I know I’m not supposed to treat him like a pet—” He looked away, his voice thick. He blinked rapidly and knew the man he’d been before he’d met Alyssa would have been embarrassed as hell showing this type of emotion, but fuck it. He loved that damn dog.

“Fuck that shit.” Ruckus was just as moved. “He was part of our team, an integral part. If he hadn’t taken that insurgent down, we wouldn’t be here right now. The EOD guys found a long line of explosives buried in the ground. It would have taken most of us out if he’d detonated those explosives. It would have been a massacre. They were waiting for us.”

“An ambush. That’s exactly what it felt like.”

“We have reason to believe that there’s a leak. The Kirikhan government is as corrupt as I’ve ever seen, but they’ve been straight shooters with us. They were the ones who suggested it was on their end. So, any plans we have won’t be going through them. We have free rein to work this as we see fit. After all, it’s to their benefit if we take out the Golovkins.”

“Fuckers.”

“Yeah, but that’s what we have to work with. So, getting back to what we were talking about—”

“Am I ready?”

“Before you answer, let me say that we value having a dog handler on this team. It might bump you out if you decide not to take on that duty again. But, more importantly, you excel at that job better than anyone I’ve ever seen. You and Echo worked in tandem. He and you are both being decorated for saving us. I got the word you’re receiving the Navy Cross and Echo the K9 Medal of Courage. Congratulations, Tank.”

“Thank you, sir, but Echo is the real hero here. His instincts were on point.”

“Have you thought about adopting him?”

“Hell, yeah, but with my deployments, it wouldn’t be fair to him.” It hurt like hell, but Tank had to let Echo go to a good home where he would get the love and attention he deserved.

Ruckus handed him the orders and Tank rose. “One more thing. I’m not blind. Is there something I should know about Dr. Alyssa St. James?”

“Not yet, but if there is, I’ll let you know.”

“Tank.”

He looked at Ruckus and finally gave in. “It’s like a Dana thing,” he said and Ruckus’s expression smoothed out. His boss had fallen head over heels for a tough, spunky reporter during a harrowing jungle adventure who didn’t take any crap from his intimidating LT. Tank was in the exact same boat.

“I can look into it for you.”

Tank nodded and left the room.

He immediately headed over to the kennel, deciding that getting back in the saddle again was what he had to do. He was just gun-shy because it had hurt so much to lose Echo. It would be difficult to forget the years they’d been together and the work they had done to save lives. Tank also didn’t want to go to another squad. He didn’t think he would fare well with a different leader.

He reported to the kennel master who took his orders and told him what kennel the dog was in. He said, “Her name is Bronte. She’s a three-year-old and well-tested. You’ve been especially selected for her, Petty Officer. She’s an exemplary animal, agile, fast, strong, and hard-hitting. Alpha all the way, just like you. But where she excels is her detection capabilities.”

“Thank you, Master Sergeant.”

Tank headed to the kennel, and once inside, he moved down the row of metal pens. A dog started barking the moment he entered, and he followed the sound right to Bronte. She was a rich mahogany with black-tipped hairs and a black mask and ears. She regarded him with curious but guarded brown almond-shaped eyes. He could tell she was intelligent.

He squatted down and she kept her ground, but he was prepared for her to be a bit aggressive. “Easy, girl,” he said. She didn’t know him yet. “Bronte, sit.” She ignored him at first, but then he said it in a firmer voice, but kept his words modulated.

She sat down. He opened the door, watching her intently, but she sat calmly. He gave her a moment to get used to him, then bent down to snap on her leash. He felt as if he was betraying Echo’s trust but had to school himself to remember that Echo was retired. He and Bronte would have to become pals, find their footing.

A female dog, he thought. The universe was laughing at him.

He took her out to the training field and started putting her through her paces, but she balked and acted confused at his commands. The same thing happened day after day. Maybe she wasn’t the right match for him. Finally, he got frustrated, and without warning, she lunged at him and grazed the back of his hand. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but he’d been fast enough to avoid too much damage. A Malinois could break bones if she really latched on.

He put her down to the ground and immediately to her back. He said nothing, letting her understand that he was the boss. She struggled at first, and he wrestled with her until she was still. As soon as she accepted his authority, he let her up. He took her back to the kennel and decided to hit the vet clinic. They could take care of his hand.

He walked inside, and a woman was standing with her back to him. “Excuse me,” he started. She stiffened and turned around. It had been weeks since he’d last seen her, but the impact of her beauty hit him between the eyes. Every damn time.

“Tank?” she asked, then she saw his bleeding hand.

“I got bit.”

“Come on back. I can handle that for you.”

He followed her through the clinic into a treatment room with a table, cabinets, and several chairs.

“Let me see it,” she demanded, gripping his wrist and dragging him to the sink. Pushing his other hand out of the way, she lifted the paper towel. There was a nasty gash across the back of his hand where Bronte’s teeth had scored him. She carefully turned his hand over and saw another gash.

He was studying her face, her touch electric, but she was all business—or so she seemed.

“This must hurt,” she murmured, turning his hand back over.

He held her gaze for a moment, then smiled. “Like a bitch.”

“You decided to take on another dog?”

“We’re getting acquainted.” His focus this moment wasn’t on Bronte. His eyes went over Alyssa in a slow slide.

“The gash is deep, but luckily, you don’t need stitches.” She let go of his hand and opened a cabinet. “I want to clean this with some antiseptic first,” she said, digging through the well-stocked cabinet. She thoroughly irrigated the wound, the water in the sink turning red.

“That should do it,” she said, setting the bottle down. Her shoulder brushing against his arm, she tore open a sterile pack and blotted the wounds, then pressed fresh dry pads against them to staunch the renewed bleeding. He was keenly aware of how close she was, of the warmth of her arm against his, and he closed his eyes, the heat from her body igniting his blood.

She glanced at him, giving him an encouraging look, but there was sizzle in her eyes. Her touch was robbing him of common sense. Her closeness overwhelmed his senses, and she swallowed hard, obviously struggling against her attraction to him.

His hand jerked when she touched his palm, and as she wrapped his hand with gauze, he said, “I’ve missed you.”

She stilled and turned toward him, searching his eyes. “I missed you, too.”

Before he could even think what to say next, she grabbed his face and her mouth was hot and urgent against his. The bolt of pure, raw sensation knocked the wind right out of him. Tank shuddered, and he widened his mouth against hers, feeding on the desperation that poured back and forth between them. She made another wild sound and clutched at him, the movement welding their bodies together like two halves of a whole, and he nearly lost it right then, only remembering that they were in a public place, tucked away, but still not exactly the best timing.

He broke the kiss, trying to regain some control. He tucked her head against his neck, holding her with every ounce of strength he had, fighting for every breath. She clutched him tighter as if she was trying to climb right inside him, and any connection he had with reason shattered into a thousand pieces.

The feel of her heat against him was too much, and he clenched his jaw, turning his head against hers. His face contorting from the surge of desire, he caught her around the hips, welding her roughly against him. God, he needed this—the heat of her, the weight of her. He needed her.