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Tank walked to the head of the conference table, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists around the back of the chair. The residue of rage from the call with Shane Lowell simmered under his skin, along with the frustration of no leads. He turned to Ross and spoke as quietly as he could, not wanting Kaylie to overhear, though she was still curled into a ball on one of the conference room chairs.
“He’ll never let her go,” he said through a clenched jaw. He knew a bluff when he saw one. There was no way Lowell would let Lia live after what she’d seen. Shane Lowell was a monster, and he would kill a child without an ounce of remorse. Which meant playing his game wasn’t an option.
“I know. And we can’t let that defense bill through.” Ross ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t want to do this, but we’ve got to get Harrison involved.”
Tank raised an eyebrow at his boss’s casual use of President Coulter’s first name. He supposed it was a bit different when the President of the United States was married to your sister-in-law, but Tank would never get used to it. The mention of President Coulter brought a bit of hope, though. If anyone could navigate the political landscape to ensure the bill's demise, it was him.
Ross continued, “I’ll go call him now. You work with the team and get to Chicago. We’re going after Lia. Gilbert, Flint, and I will handle things at the Capitol.”
Tank nodded, grateful for the support from the men who led the organization. It was Flint and Ross’s decision that Black Tower’s resources were used to help those who were defenseless against powerful enemies. The money they made working for corporations and providing security for celebrities also allowed them to help victims of abuse or other crimes. Ross marched out of the conference room, his phone already to his ear.
Less the ten minutes later, Ross's voice cut through the heavy air. "We've got President Coulter on board. He's aware of the situation and wants to discuss the defense bill. Flint and Gilbert? You’re with me. Everyone else, all hands on deck for the rescue mission.”
Miranda strode into the room with purpose, a tablet in hand and a stylus quickly tapping away. She provided the initial instructions for the flight, detailing the logistics of their journey to Chicago. Tank listened carefully.
As Miranda concluded her briefing, Tank rose from his seat, his chair scraping against the floor. The team dispersed, each member focused on their assigned tasks. Tank approached the large map of Chicago on the wall, studying it with a critical eye. Would Citadel hide in a skyscraper downtown? Or near the outskirts, more farmland than city. There were tons of old buildings and railroad yards, too.
Ryder’s approach pulled him from his evaluation, his friend’s expression serious. "Tank, we'll get her back. No matter what it takes."
Tank nodded, his jaw clenched. "I know Lowell's lying. He'd never let Lia live, even if we let the defense bill pass. We need to be ready for anything."
"We'll be on high alert. Ready for whatever Citadel throws our way." Ryder's determination mirrored Tank's own.
Tank forced his attention away from the map, his eyes scanning the room. He caught a glimpse of Kaylie, now engrossed in conversation with Jackson. His heart tugged with an internal struggle between duty and love.
Wait, love?
Since when did he love Kaylie?
Moments of their time together flickered through his mind, little pieces of the puzzle he’d been slowly putting together to understand who she was. He might not know everything about the woman, but Kaylie had shown incredible strength and determination. She was a fierce protector of her daughter and had a stubborn streak a mile wide.
And he loved her.
Tank shook his head, attempting to dispel the unexpected revelation that had stirred within him. Love was a dangerous word, one that carried implications he hadn't anticipated. Men like him didn’t get to love. As much as he tried, he didn’t get to be the hero in the story, the one who ran away with the princess for a happily ever after.
He would always be the monster in the story. The man who made little old ladies clutch their purse tighter and mothers reach for their child’s hand when he walked in the room.
He was the man who could take the life of another and still sleep soundly at night. That particular skill had been beaten into him as a pre-teen. Emotions only caused pain.
Any hint of regret or sympathy his father had seen in him resulted in harsh blows inflicted in private, when his father showed his true colors. The cool-headed Italian mobster reserved his temper for when his son needed more “training.” Which was probably why Tank rarely showed any emotion at all. It had all been beaten out of him.
To his father, love meant weakness. A chip in your armor, where enemies could strike you down.
The past lingered in the recesses of his mind, an uninvited guest in the midst of a critical operation. But maybe his father had been right. Tank couldn’t afford any weakness right now. Not if he was going to get Lia back.
Kaylie approached, her eyes searching his. Tank felt the pull to go to her, a magnetic force intensifying with every second, but he maintained the stoic mask that had become a shield. He couldn't afford to unravel, not now.
His gaze met hers briefly, and he nodded. It was a gesture meant to assure her, to convey the unspoken promise that they would bring Lia home. But it wasn’t enough. Not when he wanted to soothe her pain with his words—however clumsy and stilted they might be—and his kisses.
A knock on the door of the conference room interrupted them. Colin entered, a stern expression etched on his face. "We've got everything set up. The sooner we leave, the better. Kaylie, can you come with me? I’ll help get your bags.”
She met Tank’s eyes, then hesitantly followed Connor out of the room. He watched her leave, the gravity of the mission settling freshly upon him. The rest of the room emptied as the team dispersed. As the door closed behind them, Tank found himself alone in the conference room. The weight of responsibility pressed on his shoulders, and he couldn't shake the lingering revelation—he loved Kaylie.
His emotions, usually locked away behind the walls he'd built, threatened to surface. He took a deep breath, attempting to regain control. The mission demanded focus, determination, and a relentless pursuit of the goal at hand.
With a final glance at the map on the table, Tank left the room, his steps purposeful and resolute. An idea was growing in the back of his mind. Joey and Miranda were still digging into any possible information about a foothold of Citadel in Chicago, but he knew there was an even better way to find information in the city.
And for the woman he loved? He’d gladly dive back into the trenches of his past life and unleash a bit of the monster he’d left behind there twenty years ago.
