Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2) Read online

  Tank

  BOOK #2 IN THE MOONSHINE TASK FORCE SERIES

  LARAMIE BRISCOE

  Copyright © 2017 Laramie Briscoe

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Edited by: Elfwerks Editing

  Cover Art by: Kari Ayasha, Cover to Cover Designs

  Proofread by: Dawn Bourgeois

  Beta Read by: Keyla Handley & Danielle Wentworth

  Cover Photography: Stocksy United

  ALSO BY LARAMIE BRISCOE

  Heaven Hill Series

  Meant To Be

  Out of Darkness

  Losing Control

  Worth The Battle

  Dirty Little Secret

  Second Chance Love

  Rough Patch

  Beginning of Forever

  Home Free

  Shield My Heart

  A Heaven Hill Christmas

  Rockin’ Country Series

  Only The Beginning

  One Day at a Time

  The Price of Love

  Full Circle

  Reaper’s Girl

  The Red Bird Trail Trilogy

  Flagger

  In-Tune

  Collision

  Stand Alone

  Sketch

  Sass

  Trick

  Moonshine Task Force Series

  Renegade

  Tank

  Havoc

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also by Laramie Briscoe

  About the Book

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek of Havoc

  Connect with Laramie

  Life isn’t promised, love isn’t easy, and relationships aren’t always clean, but everyone has their soulmate who is willing to forgive when it would be better to forget.

  Trevor “Tank” Trumbolt

  I never thought in the blink of an eye my life could change, but it did. Cresting a hill driving to my favorite fishing spot, I was hit head-on by a teenager with no regard for anyone’s life but his own.

  The recovery process has been hard, painful, and damn near beating me down.

  The bright spot? Blaze.

  Surviving the wreck has given me a second chance to make a life with her. Not knowing if I’ll ever be able to rejoin the Moonshine Task Force again has brought my world into focus. It’s made me realize what’s important.

  Blaze. Stella. My brothers. My sister.

  The ego that ran Blaze away before isn’t here any longer. What’s left is a man who’s holding his heart in his hands and a burning hope that once I’m healed she’ll still be around.

  Daphne “Blaze” Coleman

  There’s only been one person in the world who’s accepted me for who I am – from the fiery red of my hair and vibrant tattoos covering parts of my body to the smartness of my mouth and my desire to be matched in the bedroom.

  That man is Trevor Trumbolt. When he asked me to give up my job as an EMT because he saw the dangers I face one scary afternoon, it spelled the end for us.

  Now that he’s been injured, he needs my help and my love. I failed once before when someone close needed me. I won’t make that mistake again. For Trevor, I’ll give it all freely, but in the end I’m gonna need him to understand one thing about relationships – the give and take, love and sadness, pleasure and pain is a two-way street. He’s either in this with me or he’s not, but at the end of the day, I won’t let him boss me around.

  If there’s anything that can handle the steel of a tank – it’s the heat of a blaze.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  While the series is called The Moonshine Task Force Series, please be aware the task force is what bought most of these men together. It’s the catalyst (if you will) that has made the friendship of the five men you’ll meet in the series.

  Like most of my recent books, these are character-driven. The action, as it is, advances the storyline or sets up the storyline for subsequent books. There won’t be manufactured drama or manufactured storyline. These are very much what you see, is what you get. Each book follows one member, and you’ll get to see how they change and grow through-out the course of the series.

  I hope you’ll love the second story featuring Tank and Blaze, and you’ll come back for the next four! They should all be released either this year, or the last one in early 2018!

  While this can be read as a standalone, it’s recommended you first read “Renegade” since they are concurrent storylines!

  Enjoy!

  Laramie

  Tank

  CHAPTER ONE

  Blaze

  “Dispatch, this is thirty-two, thirty-two show us en route to the call for the vehicle collision at the bottoms,” I notify our intent to respond as my partner Logan and I make our way to the call that came over the radio moments before. We’re not far away, five minutes on the curvy backroads. I hang on as Logan hits a pothole that’s gotten worse after the brutally hot summer we had.

  “Damn county needs to fix these roads,” I gripe as I brace my hand above my head to keep from hitting the roof of the ambulance.

  The radio cackles as dispatch comes through with more information about the scene we’re headed toward. “Be advised we’re hearing now it’s an officer who’s been involved in the collision. They’ve requested the fire department bring in the jaws of life.”

  Thank God, Trevor isn’t working today. He texted me earlier telling me he was going fishing, so the fear I feel isn’t as bad as it would be if I were wondering where he is. Going over the list of the guys I know in my head, I hope lik
e hell it’s not Ryan because he and Trevor’s sister are having a baby. Whatever the officer is facing, it’ll be a tough road if they’re trying to raise a newborn while recovering. I pull my phone out of my pocket, firing off a quick text to Trevor, letting him know about the accident. Depending on how deep he’s gone into the woods will determine if he can hear the emergency vehicles responding or not. We haven’t texted in a while, but it still feels right to give him a heads up.

  B: Hey, there’s been a bad accident at the bottoms. Best to stay where you are instead of trying to come out. I’ll text you and let you know when it’s been cleaned up. Maybe we can go have dinner?

  That last part is added as almost an afterthought. We left things weird last time we talked, and I haven’t felt comfortable answering the messages he’s left me in the past few months. Immature of me, I know, but when he asked me to give up my job, it pissed me off. I have to keep reminding myself he doesn’t know the specifics of my past and why my job is so important to me. Hardly anyone does. Trevor questioning my chosen profession pissed off an elemental part of my personality that he wasn’t even aware existed, and I need to stop punishing him until I can tell him the whole story.

  “The bottoms are a damn bad place to wreck,” Logan sighs as he navigates the sharp turns and blind spots of the Montgomery County roads that surround Laurel Springs. We’re both natives who’ve lived here our entire lives, and we respect the fact that sometimes these asphalt snakes bite.

  “It’s always been an accident waiting to happen; no one pays attention to what they’re doing. That one curve has such a blind spot, even if you are paying attention, you can’t control what the person coming from the other direction is doing. One little turn of a wheel, one second you take your eyes off the road, and you’re done. There’s no room for mistakes there, no matter how small. Maybe this will make the county pay to have it fixed.”

  Every time we respond to a wreck at what’s becoming something of a landmark around the county, it’s my hope they realize how dangerous it is. But three fatals in the past three years, maybe a fourth today, and they still haven’t done shit about it. My adrenaline ramps up as I see blue lights flashing in the distance. I’m checking the number on the patrol car, but this is one I don’t recognize.

  There are two trucks sitting on opposite sides of the road from one another, facing opposite directions – neither one baring the markings of either the city or county police department. “I thought they said it was an officer?” Already I’ve got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The premonition you have when you’re about to get bad news. No one can ever put their finger on how they know, why they get it, or even what it’s trying to tell you. Bottom line is it’s bad.

  “Me too.” Logan grabs his go bag as I grab mine, and we get out of the ambulance just as the fire truck comes to a stop beside us. It’s in our best interest to let the fire guys do what they need to do in order to save the person in the wreckage. As soon as we’re given the okay, we’ll move in.

  Taking in the scene before me, I recognize a member of the Moonshine Task Force. Ace is something of an adrenaline junkie, and we’ve bonded over the fact that both of us have jumped out of planes willingly in our lifetimes. I jog over to him, my bag bouncing against my leg. “I thought it was an officer.” The words barely make it past my throat. The feeling I had earlier is coming back with a vengeance, making me dizzy and my ears start to ring.

  His gaze refuses to meet mine as his eyes dart back and forth, focusing on any point other than my face. Finally he sighs. “It is,” he nods to the truck on the other side of the road. “Tank,” his voice is clipped, like he can’t bear to say more words than he has to. That alone indicates how much he’s affected by seeing the smoking wreckage. “He was off today.”

  There’s a ringing in my ears as I hear his name. The fear makes me drop to my knees in the middle of the road. As I make contact with the asphalt, the thud of my bones is loud, but nothing like the pounding of the blood through my veins. My heart is scary fast as I try to inhale a full breath of air. If anyone knows what injuries someone could have, it’s me. Now I’m more scared than I’ve ever been in my life.

  Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I do my best to keep my shit together. There’s no way that’s Trevor in there, no way he was enjoying a day off and he’s ended up in this mess. Trevor can’t be in the mangled carnage that was once a truck, he surely can’t be alive if he is. I watch as Ryan shimmies his way out from under the truck. I’m hoping maybe he’ll tell me everybody’s wrong and it’s not Trevor. Maybe someone else was driving his truck. Which I know is bullshit, because the only other person who’s ever driven that vehicle is me. My ears ring louder, my vision tunnels, and I shake my head. Both against the thought I have that I might black out and the fact that the man I love is possibly injured badly. Even after all these months of no communication with one another, the love I feel for him never went away. That itself tells me I should have been making more of an effort.

  Our eyes meet, and I know by the white pallor of his skin, it’s true. There’s no way Ryan would look like death if it wasn’t his best friend.

  “It’s Trevor?” My voice is weak, my hands shaking as I press them against the pavement. Little rocks dig into my palms, but the pain is a reminder that I’m still here, that I can help him. If I can pick myself up off the road. I try, but my legs give out from under me, and I fall again.

  Ace comes over, grabbing me by the arm, lifting me up, holding me while I try to center myself. It’s a struggle to find my balance when every memory Trevor and I have ever shared is flowing through my mind like a highlight reel of a college football game.

  His full lips smiling at me, moving in for the kisses I always wanted to give him. His strong arms holding me when I tried to pull away. Relaxing in hot water, while I washed his hair and he told me his dreams. The way only he can make me ache and scream.

  What the fuck were we thinking to let it all go?

  That we had all the time in the world, like anyone else thinks.

  “It’s Trevor,” he nods, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear it, devastation written all over his face. It’s hard for me to look at him, because I think what I’m seeing is reflected right back. “Get our boy safely to the hospital and give him a fighting chance. I have to go notify his family.”

  Immediately I worry about his sister, Whitney, who is heavily pregnant. They’re close, and as far as I know, she’s the only family member he told about our relationship. He looks up to her so much, and he’s beyond excited about the baby girl she’s expecting. I can tell by the way Ryan speaks that he’s unsure if Trevor will have a fighting chance. The thought scares me, and my brain immediately goes to anything and everything that could be wrong with him. I think of him alone, inside the truck. He’s probably hanging by a thread right now. Just the thought of it breaks my heart.

  When the firefighters crack the door open and motion us over, I hesitate. For the first time in my career I hesitate and I don’t know if I can look at this man I love, but can’t seem to make a relationship work with. What if this is the last time I see him? What if the last memories he has of me is not answering one of his texts. Because now I know he didn’t get the one I sent minutes before, warning him. The first one I’ve sent him in months, and he never got it.

  This instant, I say a promise. If he texts again, I’ll answer. If he calls, I’ll call him back. No more of this back and forth teenage bullshit we’ve been pulling on one another. It’s time to be adults and admit how we feel. And if he’s willing to give me a chance when he wakes up from this – fuck who was right and who was wrong – we face it head on and both apologize.

  “C’mon, Blaze,” Logan grabs my arm, pulling me to the smoking carcass of the vehicle. “He needs us. He needs you.”

  My feet move, but it’s like they’re being held down by a bunch of boulders and I’m drowning in a sea I can’t swim my way out of. I’m fighting against a riptide o
f emotion and it’s threatening to pull me under. When I finally get to the truck, I look in, unprepared for what I see. Trevor looks dead. He’s gray, his head lists to the side, and I can’t make out his chest moving underneath the thin material of his t-shirt. I’m scared to see what’s under the mangled dashboard – at the very least he’s got a sprain, but given the angle of his leg, I’m willing to bet he has a compound fracture. His chest looks like it took the brunt of some of the force too; airbags are deployed, taking up space in the cab of the truck. No doubt about it, those airbags saved his life.

  “He’s breathing,” Logan is taking his vitals, putting a c-collar around his neck, and preparing to get him on a board. “But it’s not regular. Snap the fuck out of it, Blaze. Get it together and let’s get him help.”

  It’s then that Trevor makes a pitiful noise in his throat. The noise cuts me to the bone and pulls a moan from my throat. He must be in so much damn pain. The noise spurs me on, makes me run back to the ambulance and get the board we’ll need to transport him. It’s a blur as we get him on the board and in the back of the ambulance. Logan looks at me. “You want to drive or sit back here with him?”

  “With him, I wouldn’t be good driving. I wanna be back here, making sure he’s comfortable until we hand his care over.”

  Logan nods, and we race like hell for the helipad where the air evac will meet us to take him to the nearest trauma center an hour away. I administer anything and everything I can to make him more comfortable, watching his low blood pressure and heart rate with a critical eye. My gaze runs down his broken and bloodied face with tears streaming down my own. I always joke about how pretty he is. With blood oozing from above his eye, running down a now slightly crooked nose, and stopping at his beard, he looks like an MMA fighter. One that’s gone four rounds with the baddest motherfucker out there. I want to take this pain away from him, to make him sit up in this bed and bitch me out for not answering his texts.