The remaining man growls and charges harder, smarter.
Tank blocks, counters, strikes. His body moves like it was built for this. Muscle memory and instinct working in perfect sync. There’s no rage in him. No recklessness.
Just focus.
Just purpose.
The second prospect lasts longer.
But not long enough.
Tank hooks an arm, sweeps his legs, and sends him skidding across the concrete before shoving him straight into the pool beside his partner.
Tank finally steps back, chest rising, sweat glistening across his skin. He scans the group once, sharp and assessing.
I stay where I am, half-hidden, quiet as a shadow.
Tank gestures for the next two prospects to step forward, flicking his fingers like he’s already bored with them. The previous pair staggers back, dripping and gasping.
“You,” he says. “And you.”
They square up, nervous but determined.
Tank rolls his shoulders again, muscles shifting under his skin, sweat already streaking down his chest and along the ridges of his abs. I’ve seen him shirtless more times than I can count.
But this?
This is different.
It’s the way his bodymoves. The way every muscle works together…coiling, stretching, snapping into motion with lethal grace.
Heat pools low in my belly before I can stop it.
I press my thighs together, annoyed at my own body. I’m supposed to be putting distance between me and this man. Not wanting him more than ever. Especially after what I just went through.
“Again,” he says to the new pair, voice calm. Deadly. “I’m here to hurt your precious women. Your men. Your children.”
The air shifts.
“I’m going to tie you up,” he continues evenly, “and make you watch while I make them scream.”
Well, that does the trick.
The prospects’ faces darken with rage as they charge him at full speed.
Tank takes it in stride.
He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t retreat.
Heflows.
One man swings…Tank ducks, pivots, and counters with a brutal elbow that sends the prospect stumbling. The second comes in from behind.
Tank grunts as a hit lands against his side…but he grins.
They fight harder now. Smarter. Together.
Tank blocks, absorbs, strikes back. Sweat drips from his jaw, tracks down his neck, disappears into the waistband of his jeans. His muscles flex and tighten with every movement, his body twisting and contorting in ways that steal my breath.
