Page 6 of Code Name: Tank
“Surveillance,” Tank said quietly. “Long-term observation of their operations.”
“That’s what worries me. The sophistication suggests this was a test run—they’re learning how these companies operate before hitting bigger targets.”
Tank nodded. “Alice will need to check if other contractors have had unusual activity. If this is in preparation for something larger...”
“Then, Titan was just the beginning.”
The inn’scheck-in process was easy enough, but after requesting we be on the same floor, there was a moment of awkwardness when we ended up in rooms next door to each other.
“Are you interested in dinner? We could meet in the restaurant downstairs,” Tank suggested.
I hesitated. Sharing a meal felt dangerously close to crossing lines, but declining didn’t feel right either. And after watching him work today, I found myself curious about the man behind the operative. “Sounds good. Meet in an hour?”
He nodded. “See you then.”
Tank was already seatedwhen I arrived at the restaurant, and like me, he’d changed into more casual attire. The dark button-down he wore emphasized his frame and, even in the dim light, enhanced the intensity of his stare. He stood when he saw me, a gesture that was purely instinctive good manners but caught me off guard anyway.
When was the last time a man had stood when I entered a room?
“Thanks for this,” I said as I sat across from him. “Long day.”
“Definitely longer than expected when we left Canada Lake this morning.”
We ordered—salmon for me, steak for him—and kept the conversation confined to small talk. Tank commented on the restaurant’s atmosphere and asked if I’d stayed at this hotel chain before. I mentioned preferring coastal locations over the desert when traveling, and he agreed the ocean was more relaxing than endless concrete.
We discussed East versus West Coast weather, the challenges of working in remote locations like the Adirondacks, and whether the hotel gym looked adequate.
It should have been boring, but Tank’s responses revealed small details that intrigued me. His preference for mountains over beaches because they reminded him of deployment in a good way. His admission that he’d chosen to work with K19 partly to escape DC politics. The way he listened like my opinions mattered.
I noticed he didn’t ask about my obvious familiarity with Secretary Hartwell, which I appreciated. Some conversations required more trust than we’d built yet.
“Is our flight arranged for tomorrow?” I asked when he signaled for the check.
“Zero seven hundred. Should put us back at Canada Lake by eighteen hundred.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Walking to the elevators, I was conscious of Tank beside me—his height, the easy confidence in his stride.
“Thank you,” I said as we reached our floor. “For dinner, for keeping it appropriate. I know this assignment isn’t what either of us expected.”
“No,” he said quietly, stopping at my door. “But it might be what we both need.”
The warmth in his voice made me look up. His eyes held mine with a scrutiny that drew me in. For a moment, I saw past the work facade.
Then he stepped back, breaking the spell.
“Good night, Dragon.”
“Good night.”
I listened to his door close before mine. In my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, processing the evening. He’d been completely courteous, respectful of my boundaries, and genuinely good company. Everything that should have made me feel comfortable.
It reminded me of mistakes I’d vowed never to make again. His careful respect, his willingness to follow my lead, his dependable nature—were seductive in ways that flashy charm never could be. He made me want to trust again, to believe that not all partnerships ended in betrayal.
But wanting led to hoping, and that led to the kind of vulnerability that had nearly destroyed me once before. I couldn’t afford to let him become necessary. Not when the job required clear thinking and absolute concentration.
Yet as I sat there, I couldn’t stop replaying the moment outside my door—the way his eyes held mine, the warmth in his voice when he’d said this might be exactly what we both needed. I should have been thinking about the investigation, about Treasury protocols and financial theft. Instead, I found myself wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t stepped back. If I’d been brave enough to discover what Tank Abrams tasted like.
