Tank
Yonkers wasn’t some quiet little town you could disappear into—not for long.
There were too many eyes and too many people.
There were too many chances for the wrong person to recognize him, so instead of turning toward the church, he kept on driving out past the main streets of town.
He drove past the neighborhoods that looked a little too clean.
He kept going until the buildings thinned out and the road opened up just enough to allow him to breathe, and that’s where he parked.
He left his truck idling as his hands gripped the wheel.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered to himself.
He knew exactly what had thrown him off his plan, and she had dark hair and the bluest eyes that he had ever seen in his life.
Her laugh hit him somewhere low and stayed with him, even when he told himself to forget about her.
Lillith had barged into his life, and he wasn’t sure what to do about her.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and leaned back in the seat, staring up through the windshield at the darkening sky.
He shouldn’t have talked to her. He knew better than to talk to anyone.
He shouldn’t have let it go past asking her for directions.
And he was an idiot for giving her his name, his story, and his attention.
That was how things usually went sideways and how people got hurt.
Did you find your church?
Tank stared at the text message longer than he should have. A slow breath left his lungs. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t realize he was smiling until it pulled at the corner of his mouth.
She had texted him. Of all the reckless, stupid things he had done, this one was going to take the cake.
He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing out at the empty stretch of road like it might give him an answer, but it didn’t, because he already knew what he had to do.
He shouldn’t answer. He should just leave and keep moving.
That was his number one rule, and the only reason why he was still breathing.
Tank looked back down at the screen, and his thumb moved before his brain could stop it.
Not yet.
He didn’t think—he just sent his reply. It was too late to take it back, not that he wanted to.
“Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back against the seat.
He had gone too far, and now, his tough exterior was starting to crack.
His phone buzzed again. The reply came fast, as though she had been waiting for him to text her back.
You’re bad at following directions.
Tank huffed out a quiet laugh. God help him, he liked Lillith more than he should.
Yeah, he typed. Story of my life.
The three dots popped up almost instantly and then disappeared. Then they came back. He could practically see her overthinking it. Biting her lip and second-guessing everything that she was about to say to him. It did something to his chest he didn’t like.
You don’t seem like the wandering type, she finally sent.
Tank’s grip tightened around the phone. If only she knew how wrong she was.
He stared at the words, his mind drifting somewhere he didn’t want it to go.
He remembered the gunshots and the body hitting the concrete.
The two men turned, as their eyes locked on his, as they’d already decided he was next.
And then, he watched as his grandfather’s house burned to the ground, and everything was gone.
Tank blinked hard, dragging himself back to the present and back to her.
You don’t know me, he replied.
Her answer came slower this time.
I’d like to.
Her reply was simple, honest, and completely dangerous.
Tank swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
This was where it stopped. This was where he needed to shut it down, cut the line, and keep moving like he was supposed to—like he had to.
Because getting close to anyone, especially someone like her, was how they found him the first time.
That was how she got hurt, and he couldn’t let that happen to Lillith.
He stared at her message. His thumb hovered over the delete button. He should have walked away. He knew he should, but instead, he found himself typing a reply.
That’s not a good idea, Lillith.
He hit send before he could think about it too hard. The reply didn’t come right away. Seconds stretched into minutes. Tank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. There, it was done. He’d drawn the line, and now he just had to stick to it.
He reached for the keys, shifting in his seat as the phone buzzed again. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, grabbing it before he could stop himself. Her message filled the screen.
Good thing I’ve never been known for making good decisions.
Tank stared at it, long and hard, like he could will himself not to feel anything, but it didn’t work. Because there it was again—that pull he felt with Lillith. It was a quiet, steady something that made him want to stay instead of run.
He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna regret this,” he told himself. He already did, and he hadn’t even made the choice to stay yet. His fingers moved anyway, typing another message to Lillith.
There’s a diner on 3rd, he typed. Open late. He hesitated and then added, I’ll be there for a little while.
It wasn’t an invitation, not really. But it was close enough. He hit send and dropped the phone into his lap, his pulse kicking up like he’d just done something reckless—because he had.
Tank started the truck, the engine roaring to life beneath him.
His eyes flicked once more to the empty road ahead.
He should leave—he knew it. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to get out while he still could.
Instead, he put the truck in drive and headed back toward Yonkers. And back to Lillith.
Tank got to the diner early. Too early, and that only gave him time to rethink everything.
He knew the second he pulled into the lot and killed the engine that he should turn around and leave because this was a huge mistake.
The neon sign buzzed overhead, flickering just enough to be annoying, and the place looked exactly like every roadside stop he’d ever passed through—grease-stained windows, tired booths, and a promise of bad coffee.
But it was temporarily safe, and exactly what he needed.
He stayed in the truck for a minute, his hands resting on the wheel, and his eyes scanning his surroundings out of habit. One car was parked in the far corner of the lot. The street was empty, and no one was lingering where they shouldn’t be. He spotted no threats, but that didn’t mean anything.
“Get in, get out,” he muttered to himself. “You’re not staying.” It was as though he was warning himself that sticking around was a bad idea. He just hoped like hell that he listened this time because Tank wasn’t very good at following even his own advice.
Tank pushed the door open and stepped inside the diner. The bell above the door jingled, and his senses immediately went on high alert. Every face, every movement, and every shadow was cataloged in a heartbeat.
There was an old guy sitting at the counter who looked over at him and nodded as though he knew Tank.
The couple in the booth was sitting together, and seemed incapable of keeping their hands to themselves.
And the cook behind the counter seemed too busy to pay attention to who was coming and going from the diner.
No one seemed to look at him twice, though, and that worked for him.
He slid into a booth near the back wall so that he’d have a clear line of sight to the door, the windows, and the kitchen. He did so mostly out of habit. Tank learned a long time ago that being too careful wasn’t a thing.
A waitress approached his booth and smiled down at him. Something in his chest tightened before he could stop it. “What can I get you?” the woman asked.
“Coffee,” he said.
“You want anything to eat?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Just coffee. I’m waiting for someone.
” She nodded and walked off. Tank leaned back, dragging his hand down his face.
This was a mistake, and he knew it. He’d known it the second he sent the message.
Meeting her again and letting her get closer, even for a second, was playing with fire.
And it wasn’t the kind you walked away from without getting burned.
His phone buzzed, but he didn’t reach for it right away. Tank didn’t want to seem eager or admit that he’d been waiting. After he felt as though enough time had passed, he pulled it from his pocket and glanced down.
I’m on my way.
Tank’s jaw clenched as he thought about getting up and leaving. A part of him knew that was the smart thing to do, but for some reason, Lillith made him want to do all the dumb things that could end up getting him killed.
He looked up as the waitress set his coffee down in front of him.
“Thanks,” he muttered. The cup sat untouched as the minutes ticked by slowly.
Every sound in the diner got louder—the scrape of silverware, the hiss from the grill, and the low murmur of voices.
And underneath it all was the steady thud of his pulse.
Then the bell rang above the door, and Tank looked up to find her standing in the doorway.
Lillith’s hair was damp, like she had just showered and rushed out to meet him.
Her oversized shirt hung off one shoulder, and the jeans she wore, which hugged her just right, made his mouth water.
Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him.
And then, she gave him a smile that warmed him from the inside out.
She looked as though she was glad he hadn’t left—damn it.
Tank felt something shift in his chest, something he didn’t have time, or the luxury, to figure out.