Page 6 of Code Name: Tank (K19 Sentinel Cyber #4)
TANK
I stood with my back to the room’s door, cursing myself like I had been since Dragon and I arrived at the hotel earlier.
After telling her I planned to order room service and get some work done, I’d immediately wanted to take it back. The only thing that had stopped me from going next door and asking her to have dinner with me was that I’d look like a complete idiot.
Any attempt I made to work after that had been pointless. The cold shower I took did nothing to cool me off, so to speak, or improve my frame of mind. The phone call I made to Atticus ended up irritating me since he’d picked up on my mood right away.
“What’s really going on?” he’d asked when I told him I needed his help digging through the same files he had yesterday.
“Why not just talk about it?” he’d said. “Tell her you like her, and see where it goes.”
“Like her?” I’d responded. “As if we’re in high school?”
His laughter at my expense had only added to my irritability, but when the call ended, I’d wondered if he was right. Bringing it out in the open might make it easier to deal with. Or it might make it all worse.
When I heard Dragon’s door close, I figured she was on her way downstairs, so I waited ten minutes and followed.
I saw her sitting in the back corner alone, started walking toward her, stopped myself, then started again.
When she raised her head and saw me, the decision was made for me.
I couldn’t hightail it out of there like she probably would have.
With every step I took in her direction, I convinced myself to simply face this thing between us head-on.
If she rejected me or even denied it, I was prepared to deal with it. My ego wasn’t so fragile that I couldn’t handle a woman telling me she didn’t feel the same way for me as I did her.
But she didn’t do that. She’d admitted I was “distracting.” One way to put it. Had I had the balls to say it, I would’ve told her I thought about her constantly. She even invaded my dreams. That wasn’t “distracting”—it was downright unsettling.
A few minutes ago, I’d come so close to leaning in like she had and kissing her, but if I had, I wouldn’t be in my own room right now; I’d be in hers. And there was no way either of us was ready for that.
I rolled out of bed the next morning at zero five hundred and got ready for our flight in two hours that would take us back to the East Coast.
The trip to JFK passed quietly. Both Dragon and I maintained the distance that felt safer than the closeness we had explored last night.
When she did speak, it was about the financial-theft patterns—nothing personal, nothing that might lead back to that moment outside our hotel rooms when I’d wanted to kiss her.
By fourteen hundred, we were back at Canada Lake, where Admiral and Alice gave us instructions to take some downtime, saying the briefings could wait.
“You’ve both been running at maximum capacity.
Decompress before we brief the full team tomorrow,” Alice said, her words carrying an authority born of her own workaholic tendencies.
Not to mention she was pregnant, I reminded myself.
She looked frazzled this morning, with dark circles under her eyes that suggested the pregnancy was taking its toll.
My phone buzzed with a text from an unfamiliar number as I was walking to Granite Ridge. Heard you made it back safely. Any initial concerns I should be aware of before tomorrow’s briefing?
I paused on the path. Hartwell checking in with me directly seemed odd, but given I was the co-lead investigator, it made a certain amount of sense. Nothing urgent. Some concerning indicators, but we’ll have full analysis tomorrow , I responded.
Understood. Appreciate your diligence. Dragon doing well under the pressure?
That question felt more personal than I was comfortable with. Handling it like the pro she is , I replied.
When a response didn’t appear, I pocketed my phone.
At the briefing the following morning, after Dragon and I gave separate reports about our visit to Fort Worth, Admiral suggested a trip to DC to interview other defense contractors to see if they’d experienced any of the things we found at Titan or Apex.
“We need to move fast. Tank. You should head to DC this afternoon.”
“Roger that. I’ll handle scheduling the interviews with as many as possible, arrange a flight, then report back.” The words were out before I thought them through.
Dragon raised a brow. “ You’ll handle all of that and report back?”
My jaw tightened as I realized I’d likely misinterpreted Admiral’s meaning. Even if he had meant I should go alone, it was the wrong call, and I should’ve said so.
Admiral looked between us. “I’d like to suggest you divide and conquer together . You should be able to get in more interviews that way.”
When he and Alice left the room, I anticipated Dragon’s confrontation and struck first.
“Look, it was a figure of speech.”
Her eyes scrunched, and her mouth opened, then closed. “Bullshit. And, Tank, the fact that you’re lying rather than accepting responsibility for your lack of respect for me as a partner makes me question some of the things I thought about you.”
“There’s no need to overreact. I just?—”
“How dare you condescend to me? Whatever this is about ends now. If you can’t be honest and admit you had every intention of going alone, then we need to talk to Admiral about making a change in who leads this investigation.”
“I said we’d go together,” I muttered, annoyed that I felt as though I had to get the last word.
“You didn’t. Admiral did.”
She was right. Again. And I hated it. Part of me—the part that was still thinking about that moment outside our hotel rooms in Fort Worth, about how close I’d come to crossing the lines she’d drawn—thought maybe some distance would be better for both of us.
The interviews in DC painted a grim picture.
During each, I watched Dragon work with a combination of admiration and growing frustration.
She read people like she had X-ray vision into their motivations, and anticipated their responses with uncanny accuracy.
The interviews focused on financial forensics, examining how government codes were being misused to authorize unauthorized fund transfers.
“Your CIA background serves you well,” I said during a break.
Dragon squared her shoulders. “Your skill set doesn’t vary much from mine.” She stood and excused herself to the ladies’ room.
When we finally returned to Kane Mountain that evening, there was a moment as we walked from the helipad—a pause where Dragon turned toward me, her hazel eyes catching the last light. For a heartbeat, the distance evaporated.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Tank.”
My mood darkened as I watched her walk toward Whisper Point before heading to my own camp. Once inside, I poured a glass of bourbon and tried to focus on organizing my notes, but concentration proved impossible.
I was falling for a woman who refused to let me know her.
Who could read everyone else’s motivations but kept her own locked away behind barriers I couldn’t breach.
And I’d done exactly as she said. I decided that I’d go alone without consulting her and then, rather than admit it and apologize, I’d accused her of overreacting.
Both stupid moves, and both undid the little progress I’d made in building a rapport with her.
By twenty-one hundred hours, the bourbon hadn’t improved my mood. I’d been stewing over Dragon’s anger and evasiveness for too long, and the combination of attraction and frustration was driving me crazy. I had to clear the air, or I’d spend the night tossing and turning with little sleep.
The quiet of my camp made me think of home—of being with my family, where there was always noise, always someone to talk to.
My sister would be putting her kids to bed about now, probably reading the same bedtime story she’d been telling them for months.
The familiar ache of missing that chaos, that connection, settled in my chest.
I grabbed my jacket and headed out into the cool evening air, following the path toward Dragon’s camp. Light glowed through the blinds, confirming she was still awake.
As I approached the front door, I could hear her speaking through the partially open window. She was on a phone call, her words terse.
“You can’t do this. You’re violating protocols just to?—”
I stopped walking, suddenly aware I was eavesdropping on something private. But Dragon’s words continued, and despite knowing I should leave, I listened.
“I don’t want your help, your information, or your contact.” She sounded ice cold, furious. “Stay out of my life.”
A pause, then Dragon again, softer but no less angry. “You made your choice three years ago. I don’t need your help or protection now.”
Someone from her past. Someone who wanted to “protect” her. The conversation sounded intimate in a way that made my stomach clench.
“That’s not your decision to make,” she continued. “I’ve moved on, I have a new life, and I don’t need or want you inserting yourself back into it.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“I said no. Whatever guilt you’re carrying—that’s your problem, not mine.” With each word, her voice softened as if whoever she was speaking to was wearing her down.
I backed away from the door, my jaw clenched tight. The last thing Dragon needed was me adding to whatever personal drama she was dealing with. And the last thing I needed was a confirmation that there was someone with enough history to complicate what I was feeling.
I returned to Granite Ridge, my mood darker than when I’d left. Dragon’s defenses weren’t just about trust issues. There was someone in her life, and their relationship—whatever it had been and what it was now—was unresolved.
She’d said she’d see me tomorrow, and she would. I just wouldn’t be the same person I’d been the last two days. Time to put my own guard up.