Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Stubborn,frustrating, incredible woman.
Tank watched Dave drive away with Kaylie and Lia, wishing he’d been able to convince her to let him take her. Or better yet, to stay here. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. The woman still had several days of the flu to fight through. The dark circles under her eyes and lack of color in her cheeks didn’t make her any less enticing, though.
He just wanted to take care of her, and the fact that she wouldn’t let him do that was going to drive him crazy. He couldn’t very well kidnap the woman and force her to let him feed her chicken noodle soup while Lia watched Paw Patrol cartoons. But that was exactly what he wanted to do.
Exasperating, headstrong, amazing woman.
He groaned in frustration. How on earth had he fallen for his housekeeper? He’d been the one who made the rules about not having contact. And here he was, buying her cold medicine and making pancakes for an adorable pixie in a princess dress.
Tank lifted his eyes to the sky for a moment, the swirling gray clouds reflecting his own restlessness. Then he groaned again and headed inside. What a mess.
After a morning filled with endless chatter from Lia, the house felt too quiet now. Tank flipped on the TV and turned off the cartoon channel it was still on. The talking heads on the 24-hour news station filled the screen and big block text framed the bottom.
Tank did his best to clean the kitchen as he absently listened to the discussion between the pundits.
“Thank you for coming on, Senator. Senator Rush from South Dakota, everyone. We’ll know more about the defense appropriations bill after the final session next week. Let’s move on to the newest buzz around the capitol, shall we? There is new speculation that President Harrison Coulter may have been involved in the assassination on President Walters.”
Tank growled in disgust. President Coulter hadn’t had jack squat to do with the assassination, other than ordering Black Tower to capture the assassin, despite the forces within the FBI desperate to prevent it. Harrison Coulter was a good man, and Tank hated that his name was constantly smeared in the political landscape.
“After all, who had more to gain from the president’s death than the sitting Vice President–the man who now sits in the Oval Office himself?”
The woman to the left chimed in. “I think anyone making these sort of accusations better have rock solid evidence to back it up. The ramifications of something like this would be unprecedented, Jack. We’re talking bigger than Watergate. You can’t accuse the president of treason.”
“I’m just reporting the news, Louise. But you bring up an interesting–”
Tank rolled his eyes and hit the power button, cutting off the smarmy face of the news anchor. If you could call it news at all.
He glanced around the family room, missing the small traces of Lia that had been here all evening. He settled into his favorite recliner and grabbed his phone, punching Hollywood Dave’s contact info.
Dave answered the phone almost immediately. “I was just about to call you, you impatient brute.”
“Are they home?”
“Safe and sound. The mom doesn’t look too good, though. She’s dead on her feet.”
Tank sighed. “She’s… independent.”
Dave barked a laugh. “The good ones usually are, my friend. It’s like God’s little joke on us. We want them to need us, and they want to do it themselves.”
“I don’t like it,” he grumbled.
He could practically hear his friend’s easy smile through the phone. “It just makes it that much sweeter when they finally trust you.”
Tank wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen. Not with Kaylie. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. And considering her arms were toothpicks and he was built like an NFL linebacker, that was approximately zero.
“You really like this girl.” Hollywood Dave’s words were a statement, not a question, so Tank didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what to say anyway.
The word ‘like’ seemed… insignificant as a way to declare how he felt about her. But he knew he didn’t have a right to feel any sort of way about Kaylie or her daughter. He was in way too deep with no way out.
“I gotta get to work,” he said instead. He hung up on Dave without waiting for a response, but he could have sworn he heard the retired officer’s laughter as he pulled the phone away from his ear.
Tank had met Dave when they were both in the military, though Dave was older and left the service soon after. He felt an easy camaraderie with Dave, which his friend said was because they shared the same protective instincts. Dave’s had come from growing up in a loving family of seven kids, whereas Tank’s had come from the exact opposite–the only child of a monster who tried to form him into his image.
Dave was also someone most people might initially view as intimidating, but he had the advantage of an easy smile and an extravagant nature. He was a born story-teller and would have a room full of people hanging on his every word. That over-the-top flair for the dramatic was how he’d earned the nickname Hollywood Dave, after all.
Tank’s mind was on Dave’s words as he drove to work. He wanted Kaylie to trust him, even if he knew it was impossible. He didn’t bother showering before he left. His first stop would be the gym. Technically, Tank had let the team at Black Tower know he wouldn’t be at work today, but that was when he’d planned on taking care of Cecelia all day while Kaylie rested. Throwing around heavy things while listening to loud music sounded like the best way to sort out the way her rejection made him feel.
An hour in the state-of-the-art gym in the basement of BTS headquarters left him physically exhausted but no less twisted up emotionally. Not that anyone else would be able to tell. That was one benefit of his “resting murder face.” At least, that was what Hannah had called it. Joey and the team at Black Tower had immediately agreed it was the most accurate term for it.
For the next two days, he didn’t mind his default expression and the mask it provided him. No hint to anyone that the casual text messages he’d sent to the woman who had him tied up in knots had gone unanswered. If it hadn’t been for Hollywood Dave checking on their trailer and reassuring him that they were fine, he would have been concerned. Tank couldn’t fight this desperate need to make sure she was safe. Especially now that he knew about her past.
Maybe if she knew that he knew, it would change things.
Until then, though, he was a jumbled storm of sadness, shame, and wistful frustration inside. But to everyone in the briefing, he was just Tank. Reliable, strong, and unshakable. With resting murder face.
At the front of the room, Ryder was giving the update to the entire BTS staff. He’d been on the forefront of the campaign to dismantle the Syndicate ever since the crime conglomerate had targeted Fiona Raven. Yes, that Fiona Raven, America’s cooking sweetheart and the younger sister of Black Tower co-founder Flint Raven.
It wasn’t often that the entire staff of Black Tower was assembled in one space. Nearly thirty people crowded the conference room. The wall that divided the space into two smaller meeting rooms had been removed. Operatives, analysts, and even the finance and legal departments were here.
“We know that Senator Collins is pushing hard for this new appropriations bill. It includes a defense contract for Citadel that is seriously unparalleled.”
There was a low rumble in his chest at the mention of Citadel. Even if Strickland hadn’t pointed the finger at them when they interrogated him, they’d crossed paths with Citadel enough for him to know that they were ruthless mercenaries who didn’t care who or what got in their way. Their guys were always moving drugs and weapons in the Middle East, their private contractor status obviously making them feel above the law.
Not all military contractors were bad news. But anytime Tank had run into a problem with one, they’d been from Citadel.
Marshall took the opportunity to fill everyone else in. “Our friend Damien Strickland told us that Citadel is the key to everything and that once they are in position, the whole plan moves forward.”
“So what’s their blasted plan then?” The frustrated outburst came from Jackson but was quickly echoed by several others. Tank’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. Jackson didn’t usually get riled up, but the further they got down the Syndicate web, the bigger effect it was having on everyone.
Ryder held up a hand. “We don’t know everything. We know Patrick Derulo from QuinTech Missiles was using Damien Strickland and the Marshand Chemical Group. The chemical plant was permitted to produce a phosphorus compound for fertilizers. But that doesn’t explain Derulo’s interest.”
Ryder’s gaze swept the room slowly. “Our working theory is that Derulo and the Syndicate are illegally processing chemical weapons. The new defense contract for Citadel will grant them near-zero oversight from anyone as far as weapons procurement, unprecedented access to secure military bases, and huge latitude for engagement with the US military taking full responsibility for Citadel actions.”
If Tank was still the type to say curse words, he would have exhaled a string of them. Instead, he filled in the gaps for anyone who might not have connected the dots yet. “They’re setting us up for war.”
Ryded nodded. “We’re still working on all the pieces, but we need all hands on deck. We have to prevent this appropriations bill. If all else fails, we’re confident that Coulter will use his veto power. But we all know that just paints a huge target on his back. So, here are your assignments.”
Miranda started handing out manilla folders to everyone in the office as Ryder continued to explain.
“Joey and Stephen and the analysts have prepped dossiers on every member of the defense appropriations committee. We’re going one-by-one and doing whatever it takes to get them on our side.”
“And if they’re part of the bigger problem?” The question came from Jackson again, and Tank noted the flash of anger in his eyes with approval.
“Then it is up to us to solve it. Rules of engagement for this campaign are included in your folders. We have a pile of money sitting in a political action committee fund you can use for bribery–I mean, lobbying. At this point, all options are on the table. Blackmail, intimidation, bribery. Shoot, if they want to be owed a favor from Flint, I think we can make that happen.” Ryder smirked at their boss who simply shrugged in response.
That was all but an endorsement of that action plan from the big man.
Tank flipped open the assignment he’d been handed. Senator Collins. As the chair of the defense appropriations committee, he was also one of two senior senators they had already confirmed were in the upper echelon of the Syndicate. Senator Katrina Morris being the other.
There was no way he’d get Senator Collins to back down. The man was in way too deep. Ryder dismissed the meeting as Tank flicked through the dossier on Collins. He was already familiar with most of it. He glanced up to find Ryder making his way over to him.
Tank gestured to the file. “Got any ideas?”
Ryder grimaced. “Collins is so dirty he makes the Hudson River look pristine.”
Tank grunted his agreement with Ryder’s assessment.
His friend laid a hand on Tank’s shoulder. “After Fiona was attacked and I found out that Senator Morris was behind it, I paid her a little visit.”
Tank felt his eyes widen. He’d never heard about this. “And?”
Ryder shrugged. “I scared her into submission, at least for a little while. I’m not saying it’s the only option for Collins, but it’s certainly one option.”
Tank nodded. “Thanks.”
Someone called for Ryder across the room, and he left Tank there to consider his words. Before he could think on it too long, his phone buzzed. He frowned at it for a moment. Everyone who texted him had just been in this room.
Kaylie: Thank you again for everything you did the other day. It never should have happened, but I’m thankful it was at your house and not another client. I came by this afternoon and got everything back in order.
He was so dang elated that she’d finally reached out, he couldn’t even hold onto the tug of jealousy he felt at the mere idea of her relying on some other person to care for her when she was sick. Or being so vulnerable with anyone but him.
Tank: Don’t even mention it.
He hesitated for a moment. Then he grunted and kept typing. His thumbs stumbled over the tiny letters as he typed out perhaps the longest string of text messages of his life. He was done playing it cool. There was something between them, and he was going to see where it went.
Tank: I’ll never complain about finding Sleeping Beauty on my couch. Are you feeling better?