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He had to rescue Lia. Nothing else mattered right now, even the fact that he was going back to Chicago. He’d stubbornly refused missions that would take them to the city in the past, and Flint had never pushed. He wouldn’t be sitting out this time, though. In fact, he would use every piece of his connection to Chicago to help them find Cecelia alive.
Even if it meant walking the dark alleyways of the city he once called home.
Tank's memories of Chicago were a mix of turbulent emotions and buried secrets, a part of his life he had carefully kept under lock and key. As though pretending it didn’t exist could change the fact that he’d been born and raised to take over and rule his father’s twisted empire there.
With a determined resolve, he pushed those memories aside, focusing on the task at hand. His commitment to Kaylie and Lia would fuel his determination.
The team gathered around the large conference table, each member bringing their unique skills and strengths to the mission. Tank's gaze swept across the familiar faces of the men who would enter this fight with him—Ryder's unwavering loyalty, Marshall's strategic mind, Jackson's cocky courage, Connor's combat expertise, and Landon's quiet yet deadly efficiency. Even Will Gilbert, the stoic and solitary operative, was here, observing and ready to lend his metaphorical sword.
Flint, the commander-in-chief of their ragtag team of misfits, stood by Tank's side. Even as he grappled with the weight of returning to a city laden with memories, Tank found solace in the unwavering support of his team. They were a cohesive unit, bound by a shared mission and a determination to bring Lia home safely.
The adrenaline coursing through his veins mingled with a sense of responsibility—not just for the mission but for the lives intertwined with his own. Jackson had already been hurt, and he didn’t want it to happen to anyone else. Even though he knew as well as they did that sometimes sacrifices had to be made. You couldn’t knock down the bad guys without taking a few hits yourself. And every person on this team was willing to do that if necessary, but it didn’t make it easier.
Tank met Kaylie's gaze across the room, her eyes a mix of apprehension and hope. She looked toward the door, and he nodded, agreeing to her silent invitation. He followed her out of the busy conference room into a quieter corridor.
Tank wanted to bridge the gap between them, to offer comfort and reassurance, but the guilt that coiled within him kept him at a cautious distance. They stood in a secluded corner, and Tank's eyes lingered on Kaylie's face, studying her expression. "We'll get Lia back, Kaylie. I promise you that," he spoke with a quiet intensity, his voice a low rumble.
The soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead created a subdued ambiance, and the distant sounds of the team's preparations provided a subtle backdrop to their private conversation.
She nodded, her eyes searching his for reassurance. "I know you're doing everything you can, Anthony. It's just..." her words trailed off, the weight of unspoken fears heavy in the air.
He understood. The heaviness of their situation, the danger that surrounded them—it all bore down on Kaylie's shoulders. Tank's hand instinctively reached out, hovering in the space between them, a silent offer of support.
Kaylie took a step closer, her eyes locked onto his. "I need to believe she'll be okay. I need to believe that we're not going to lose her." Her voice trembled, betraying the vulnerability beneath her resilient exterior. He didn’t miss the way she included him in the statement. Like they were a team.
A raw longing for that unity nearly tore at his chest. For a moment, time seemed to stop as Tank wrestled with his own conflicting emotions. He wanted to be the pillar of support she needed, to assuage her fears and anchor her in the storm. Yet the guilt clouded his ability to fully embrace the connection he longed for.
As Kaylie took that step closer, her eyes locked onto his, he felt the magnetic pull of shared history, shared pain, and shared hopes. The longing to be a team, to face whatever came their way united, stirred a quiet resolve within him. It was a yearning he hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge, buried beneath the layers of self-imposed guilt and the weight of his own past.
Tank's heart ached at the raw honesty in her words. "I won't let anything happen to her," he vowed again. It had been his constant refrain. A mantra driving his decisions, pushing him through the exhaustion and adrenaline crash. He’d push his body to the absolute limit to save her.
She leaned into his touch, her gaze never leaving his. "I want to believe that, Anthony. I do," she confessed, her voice a whisper, laden with the silent plea for assurance. “I’m so scared.”
He tightened his grip, the warmth of the connection seeping through the layers of tension. "I’m so sorry I let this happen, Kaylie. I’ll make this right," he said, his words a solemn promise.
A hint of confusion crossed her face as he pulled his hand away, a dull ache settling in the hollow of his chest. Tank's gaze held hers for a moment longer, then he withdrew his hand.
“I need to check on the team and finalize the plan," he said, his tone holding a weight of regret. "We'll get Lia back. And then the two of you can live your life in peace again.”
Without waiting for her response, Tank turned on his heel and strode back toward the conference room, leaving Kaylie standing in the dimly lit hallway.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Back in the conference room, the harsh ring of the phone echoed through the room, jolting Kaylie from her thoughts. Tank punched the speaker button on the phone.
“I have Shane Lowell on the line.”
Kaylie didn’t recognize the voice, but her heart seized in her chest at the announcement. Lia was in Shane’s clutches, and right now, Kaylie was powerless to protect her. All the conversations and movement in the room stopped.
Anthony’s eyes met hers across the conference room. His voice was icy as he spoke to the triangle-shaped intercom device in the center of the table. “Put him through.” He pointed a finger at Joey and she waved a hand, already focused on her computer, following whatever wordless instruction he’d given her.
He answered the call, his expression stoic and unreadable. As Shane's voice filled the room, Kaylie's heart raced. Tank's grip on the edge of the table tightened as Shane Lowell's voice oozed through the line like venom. The cold, calculated tone made the hair on her neck tingle, and she stared at the speaker.
"Mr. Olson, my friend," Shane drawled, his words dripping with arrogance. "I trust you've had a moment to consider the inevitable terms of our arrangement."
Her eyes shifted to Anthony’s. A muscle in his jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing as he listened to the ultimatum.
