Chapter 11 Tucker Town
TUCKER TOWN
SYDNEY
Sydney melted from his words, but it was more than that. It was everything Tank offered. He was the total package.
“We need sleep.” She nudged him off her, pushed out of bed, and checked the time on her phone. “It’s almost four. What time does the team show?”
“Eight, latest,” Tank said. “I want more of my woman.”
Though tempting, they needed to catch some zzzz’s. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Wild thang, you gotta move your stuff into another suite.”
“Why do you care what people think?”
“I’m an outsider. The group is risking their safety by allowing me to stay here. What we do between the sheets, over the sheets, in the shower—” she waggled her eyebrows— “is none of their business.”
“Gotcha.”
They entered the en suite bathroom. She turned on the shower, pulled her hair into a bun, while he cleaned himself up. Once the water heated, they stepped into the stall, built for one. It was tight, more so because he took up the space of two men, but she liked having him right next to her.
“You first,” he said.
She washed her face while he sudsed his hands. Then, he powered them over her body, gentling on her breasts and between her legs. She stood there basking in the hot water and in her amazingly attentive man.
Wait, am I getting ahead of myself? Is he my man?
“Are you mine?” she blurted.
“One hundred percent,” he replied.
As he knelt to wash her legs, she ran her fingers over his wet hair. “I hope you never cut your hair.”
“What if I go bald?”
“I’ll shave my head.”
He laughed, caressed her foot. “Lift.”
She balanced on one leg while he gently cleaned between her toes. Her feet were super ticklish, and she jerked it away.
He peered up at her. “Someone’s ticklish.”
When he finished washing her other foot, he pressed his mouth to her pelvis area and kissed her skin. Then, he slid his hand up her thigh between her legs, ran his finger over her opening. “Daddy wants to make his baby purr.”
As her body jump-started, he stood, towering over her. She shuddered in a breath as his talented digits stroked and teased, swirled and penetrated.
“So wet for me,” he growled in her ear. “You’re so sexy, Sydney.”
She gripped his waist, leaned against his massive body, and received his gift. Talented fingers working her like a maestro while she moaned through the onslaught of pleasure.
“Do you like this?”
“So much,” she groaned out. “I love how you touch me. You feel incredible.”
She responded to him like dry kindling to a lit match. Heat blasted through her, the throbbing between her legs reaching every cell in her body. She started to come, the intensity of the orgasm taking her breath and making her knees buckle. But he tightened his hold and whispered, “I got you.”
Crying out, the ecstasy blurred everything. Just pleasure. Just Tank. When he kissed her, the passion in him sent her flying higher. She clung to him, gasping for air, as the euphoria rained down on her.
Glorious seconds of absolute perfection. Every damn thing in her world was good. She opened her eyes, gazed up, and offered what she hoped was a smile.
Her reward?
His breathtaking smile, then a kiss. Boneless in his arms, she blinked up as the warm water washed over her.
“I… we… we got it goin’ on.”
“You think?”
On a chuckle, she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him like he was a branch overhanging a raging river. Like he was the difference between life and death.
“I’m sad about Naomi,” she whispered.
As soon as the words were out, she wished she could take them back.
He kissed her temple, tilted her face toward his. “Death is the ultimate loss. It’s the line in the sand. A hard stop.”
She choked back a sob, her emotions so raw. Feeling vulnerable, she swallowed hard, fighting against the grief.
“I got you.”
When he caressed her back, she gave in to the pain, and the tears flowed. His being there, letting her show her vulnerability, was one of the greatest gifts she’d ever received. He didn’t tell her to woman-up, didn’t tell her to manage her emotions.
He accepted her as she was.
She got control of herself and breathed deep. “I’m a mess.”
Leaning back, he stared into her eyes. “You are a lot of things, but a mess isn’t one of them.
You’re smart and brave. You’re gorgeous—too beautiful for me—you’re funny and bitingly sarcastic.
You are loyal and loving and doggedly determined.
” He shrugged a shoulder. “I think you’re fucking perfect, but I don’t want that going to your head. ”
His loving words filled her with peace.
“You are an amazing man.” She stood tall, kissed him. “I just ugly-cried, and you hung in there.”
“Always.”
A shadow darkened his eyes. “What’s gonna help you the most is the anger.
You lost one of the good guys to the dark side.
You’ve gotta be more determined—more ruthless—than the person you’re hunting.
It’s always better to be the hunter than the hunted.
I don’t know much about your career—what I do know is that we go after our targets… and we annihilate them.”
She devoured his words like they were the meal she desperately needed to eat. “You’re right. So right.”
They toweled off, returned to her suite. He was strutting around naked and she was having a hard time concentrating. She’d stare at his face, drop her gaze down his granite body to his giant-sized feet, then do a return trip into those espresso eyes.
“I love the eye-fucking, but you’re making me hard,” he said before pulling on a T-shirt.
“Tank, you gotta tuck your junk away,” she said.
After he stepped into a pair of boxer briefs, they moved his bags next door. Once there, he said, “Oh yeah, this’ll fool ‘em.”
“They won’t have a clue.”
“You gonna run with that?”
“Yes. I. Am.”
“You sure you want to sleep alone in Creepy Secret Zone?”
That stopped her cold, then she shot him a smirk. “I’m never alone. I have my SIG.”
His expression fell.
She clasped his hand, brought him back into her suite. “You’re with me.”
She collected her SIG, set it on the bedside table as he crawled into bed. He set the alarm on his phone, then rolled onto his back. She sat in the middle of the bed, clutching her pillow, while staring at the two pillows propped up on her side.
“Sydney, you okay?”
She faced him. “I sleep with lots of pillows, and they’re all perfectly arranged. I can’t sleep—”
“Lemme help.” He took the pillow from her. “Where’s this on your bed?”
“That’s the main one.”
He moved the two on the side like a blockade, set hers down beside his. Then, he patted his chest.
“You want me to sleep on you?”
“Right here.”
She lay on him, threw her leg over his thigh, snuggled close, and said, “You smell good. You smell like a man.”
“We’ve got two hours.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Dream of me.”
AT SEVEN-THIRTY IN THE MORNING, they left the residential section of the Black Site, made their way to the work wing. Sydney had taken the nap of her life. After years of struggling with insomnia, she’d found something much better than the perfect positioning of multiple pillows.
She’d slept securely in the arms of Mr. Muscles.
She made a pot of coffee while he cooked them eggs. She dropped multi-grain bread into the four-slice toaster, pulled out almond butter.
Once they’d eaten and cleaned up, they collected their mugs of hot coffee and made their way to the other side of the building. To her relief, they were the first ones there.
“I’ll be in my office down the hall.”
“No. We can set up in the conference room. We’ll bounce ideas off each other, take a break and have a make-out sesh.”
She laughed as they entered the conference room. Rather than sit beside him, she set her laptop bag on the opposite side and complete other end of the table.
“I set daily goals,” he said as he opened his laptop.
“What’s today’s?”
“Find someone—anyone—in the Haqazzii terror cell. If Sean Baker is right, and the group is planning on taking out the President at his inauguration—”
“Whoa, back up. What did you say?”
“Yeah, so this is top-secret. You can’t—”
“I’ve spent my career as an assassin. I would die before I’d give up anything to anyone outside this group.”
As she peered across the long table, their undeniable connection washed over her.
“Same,” he murmured. “I trust you.”
“I trust you,” she replied. “So, you’ve got until January to find how many terrorists?”
“Nine, which includes their leader, Muhammad Haqazzii.”
“No pressure there,” she said.
Grey walked in, set his computer bag on the table. “How’s everyone doin’?”
“Never better,” Sydney said, the sarcasm rolling off her tongue.
“Not good,” Tank answered. “The bad guys are winning.”
Grey slid his gaze from his brother to her. “Sleep okay?”
“All good,” Tank replied.
“Creepy Secret Zone’s got a rodent problem,” she said.
Grey hitched an eyebrow. “Whad’ya see?”
“Rats,” she replied. “And they looked pretty fat and happy to me.”
“Can’t call an exterminator,” Grey said. “I’ll put out traps.”
“I could use more coffee,” Sydney said. “I’ll make a pot in the break room.”
“Election day,” Grey said. “Teddy, you gotta vote.”
“I did mine absentee,” Tank replied. “Didn’t think I’d be back.”
“Sydney, we’ll have to sneak you out to vote,” Grey said.
“I voted months ago.” Sydney made her way toward the doorway. “Did you and Car vote?”
“On the way in,” Grey replied.
“Is she here?” Sydney asked.
“Her office.”
In the break room, Sydney made a pot of coffee before heading to her sister’s office.
Knock-knock.
Caroline glanced up, shot her a smile. “Come in. Close the door.”
Sydney shut the door, eased into a guest chair. “You look so serious.”
“I was worried you wouldn’t sleep,” Caroline said. “You only had one pillow and you’re not comfortable here. I’m sorry I didn’t stay, but I will from now on.”
“It’s all good.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Not much.” Sydney tapped the other guest chair. “Sit next to me.”
Caroline relocated.