“It’s okay, T,” Warren said. “It’s okay.”
She sniffled and wiped her nose. “I’m sorry, guys,” she said. “Didn’t mean to fall apart.”
Warren took to his feet. His hand rested on her shoulder. “Sometimes, all we need is a hug.” He handed Lyons something. “Barracks assignments are there. I’m gonna…” He paused and released her shoulder. “Sorry, but I kind of need to talk to my wife. I’m gonna leave you two, if that’s okay.”
“We’ve only got one pack left,” Lyons said. “Tia and I’ve got it.”
Tia glanced up, mortified for not realizing how the whole incident had to have affected Warren. His hands shook with the same fine tremors as hers.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Of course. Lyons and I will finish up.”
“Thanks,” he said and then backed away. His gaze drifted to the packs and then zeroed in on Lyons. “Take care of her,” he said.
“You bet,” Lyons’s affirmation couldn’t be any louder or clearer.
With Warren’s abrupt departure, she shifted away, feeling more than foolish by her momentary weakness. “I guess we should wrap this up.”
“Yeah, we’ll do that, but then we need to talk.”
Talk? No way in hell was she going to talk, especially after she’d become everything she hated about the female stereotype. Women warriors faced an uphill climb every day. What she just did? Crying? It affirmed everything Lyons thought about women in combat. They weren’t strong enough—not only in their physical build, but also in their emotional makeup. Well, she wasn’t going to be that woman.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t treat me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a woman who’s incapable of dealing.”
“I’m not.”
“You know you are. Do me a favor and show me enough respect to admit it.”
“You’re right yet so very wrong. I care about you. It’s because I fucking care that I’m not leaving you to cry it out alone. But, even if I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t leave you to face this alone. Sure, if you were one of the guys, I’d take you to a bar, pound back a cold one, and make sure your head was screwed on right, but yeah, you’re right. You’re a woman, a chick, and I treat you a little different. Don’t ever think it’s because I don’t respect you or that I don’t think you can do this job. I do. I sure as fucking hell respect the crap out of you. Here’s the rub though. I. Care. About. You. There, I said it. I care about you, and that means things have changed. I care about your feelings, and I’m concerned about where your head is. Shit, Tia, did you ever stop to consider I might be a little shaken up by what happened, too?”
“Are you?” She narrowed her eyes with suspicion.
“I came to in the bus…alone.” His voice shook. “I didn’t know where the fuck you were, and you were my very first thought. Warren was grabbing packs and tossing them out of the bus. I had Bent beat up and broken beside me. No sign of you. You don’t even want to know what was going on in my head.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing his point. “It was chaos after the bus stopped spinning. Everyone was yelling. There was so much noise. I didn’t know what was going on or what to do. Collins started shouting orders. The security detail took over. Before I knew it, I was lifted up and out of that bus. You were…you were out, and I checked on you, but then they pulled me away. They didn’t let me stay. And I’m so sorry, Ryker. I’m so damn sorry.” Shame filled her entire being as she realized what he must have thought. She’d heard him when he came to. There’d been no way to hide his shout.
“Shh,” he said, cupping her face.
The warmth of his hands cradled her cheeks, and all she wanted was for him to lean forward, close the distance, and press his lips against hers. She needed to feel that connection. She needed to feel alive.
“It’s always like that,” he said. “Look, I don’t blame you for not staying with me. If Collins had ordered my ass out of that bus, I would’ve left, too.”
“Don’t say it,” she said. “Please don’t lie to me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You’re telling me that you would’ve obeyed Collins and not stay with me?”
“I might have made a strong argument, but he was in command, Tia. He had an image in his head of what needed to be done, and that included you getting out of that bus.”
Her entire body shook. Whether strung out from adrenaline or crashing after a burn, she felt toasted, almost high, and needed to move.
“I’ve gotta get out of here,” she said. “My skin is itching, and the air feels thick.”
He gave the packs a glance. “We can’t leave the packs unfinished. I’m not leaving these for Warren.”
She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Okay, but let’s hurry.”
Moving quickly, they inventoried the remaining bags, filled out the resupply lists, and marked down notes. When they finished, Lyons grabbed her hand.
“We’re getting out of here,” he said.
“This feels a little like déjà vu,” she said. “Last time we were here, all I wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed.”
“Well, you’ll get that shower,” he said, his tone cocky and once again full of himself, “but not before I give you a good reason for it.”
“About that,” she said, “Warren’s suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” Ryker laughed.
“Yeah.”
“He’s not suspicious. The bastard is laughing his ass off.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He’s laughing that it took us this long.”
She covered her mouth. “You told him?”
“Didn’t have to tell that rat bastard anything. That man knows love. He carries it with him every day. Have you seen how he totes his wife around in his heart? He knows.”
“This is exactly why we never should have…”
Ryker placed an arm over her shoulders and dragged her out of the medical center. “Warren isn’t going to tell a soul. I think he’s known longer than I have.”
“And how long have you known?”
“That is a secret I am keeping close,” he said.
“Keeping close? How can you keep something like that close?”
“Okay, here’s the truth. I’ve known for a while.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” How had she not known?
“Duh, because you were engaged. A man doesn’t move in on another man’s woman. Not if he has any self-respect.”
“Is that why you hate Scott?”
“No, I dislike Scott because he never put a smile on your face. I told you, a man who can’t do that is a man who doesn’t deserve his woman.”
“I thought I loved him,” she said. “Until I didn’t.”
“It’s okay to let it hurt,” he said. “The guy was a douche bag, and I’m going to spend every waking breath erasing all thoughts of him from your mind. I’ll invade your dreams until all you can think about is me. Scott will become a very distant memory.”
“He already is,” she said. Looking up, she stopped, surprised at their destination. “Why did you bring me here?”
He’d taken her to the hangar where Angel Fire played for the troops.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dreams
Ryker
Ryker didn’t know why he needed to take her to the hangar, except he found solace in music. The hope was, she would as well. What he would play remained a mystery, but he hoped to make something up on the fly. Angel Fire hadn’t packed up their gear. For their USO Unplugged tour, they’d needed very little of it and left most of their things behind. And, while it might be a bit presumptuous to assume he could borrow their gear, he had a sense they wouldn’t mind.
For a moment, he wondered what had happened to Ash’s guitar, thinking Baby probably hadn’t survived the accident. Did that word even apply? Was running over a roadside bomb accidental?
He hated this world and loo
ked forward to finishing out his deployment, taking a few months off, and then finding a nice, quiet hospital that needed a respiratory technician. One more month, and he’d be on his way to that dream.
“Are you sure we should be in here?” Tia asked in a whisper.
With his hand gripping hers—even though assuming a degree of familiarity was dangerous in a no-fraternization climate—he tugged her past the door. It was late, and no one was around. Security patrolled the base but focused more on the perimeter than the buildings inside. One of three hangars on base, this one was the smallest, more often empty than not. Like the concert from the night before, it was used more for Group Commander Calls than to store aircraft.
The stage platform remained. It hadn’t been taken down. Vaguely, he remembered Forest mentioning an encore performance at Bagram. None of the band’s instruments were out. Those had all been tucked back into their crates, but Smiley had given him the combination to the guitar locker prior to that last show. He headed over there now. Unlike acoustic guitars, electric guitars required an amplifier to drive the sound. He’d seen one onstage and hoped electricity ran to it. Otherwise, this was going to be a pointless mission.
“Hop onstage,” he urged Tia.
“You sure this is okay?” she asked again.
“More than okay,” he assured. “There’s an amp—that black box over there. Can you take a look and see if the cord is still plugged in? Then, flip that switch and see if the red light pops on.”
“Okay,” she said, lifting herself up onto the stage.
He took a moment to admire the perfect shape of her ass and all the things he couldn’t wait to show her. While she checked on power, he headed over to the black lockers that held the gear. Most of them were identical in size, except for the one containing Bash’s drum kit. That one was fatter and squatter than the others. That left him with several lockers to search. Briefly, he thought about playing on Ash’s or Spike’s gear, but he loved the throaty punch of the bass, and he had several favorites he could play where the bass carried the melody line. What he planned remained fuzzy, except he needed to get his mind off that accident as well. Music never failed to calm his nerves.
“Is this what you meant?” Tia called out from the stage. She indicated an amplifier.
“Yes,” he answered. “Is it connected to power?”
“I’m looking,” she responded.
While she sorted that out, he found the locker with Bent’s guitar. Shit! Bent! He’d been evacuated with the other patients. Drummond hadn’t set his arm in the field; there’d been no need to do it there. He should’ve looked for Bent before leaving with Tia. Now, he felt like an ass.
He assumed their tour would be canceled. Without a doubt, the unplugged portion would be canned. It was simply too risky to send civilians beyond the perimeter fence again. He was pretty certain Colonel Vane and Forest were discussing that now, or they would be by the time morning rolled around.
For now though, he had Tia to himself and an empty hangar to play to. What he wanted was to take her in his arms, strip her of her clothes, and make love to her until the sun came up. He’d been helpless in that damn bus accident and not able to help her. Not that Tia ever needed help. The woman was a wonder with her strength, but he’d seen the cracks. He had every intention of never leaving her side, not until he knew she would be okay.
The lock to the second crate opened with a snick. He glanced inside and smiled, recognizing the impressive array of Bent’s guitars. Forest hadn’t been lying. He’d come with over a score of instruments. Ryker took his time and then picked one out. Slinging the attached strap over his shoulder, he headed back out.
“I found it,” Tia called out. “It wasn’t plugged in, but I got it hooked up and turned on, and the little red light lit up.” She walked to the edge of the stage and prepared to hop down.
“Stay up there,” he said and then vaulted up.
Most of the hangar lights were out, except for one in the middle of the vast space. That meant the main floor was dimly lit, and the edges where the stage was located remained cloaked in shadow. He grabbed the cord from the amplifier and plugged in.
“How do those things work? Can you play it without that cord?”
“Electric guitars have to be plugged in,” he explained. “Otherwise, they sound tinny and weak.”
“I’d like to hear more about how you learned to play,” she said.
He took that as a good sign. This was the first time she’d shown interest in his background. Tia was a great teammate, but her questions about personal lives never scraped much deeper than the surface.
“There’s not much to say. I was part of a band in high school. We played a bit. Were good and all, but Timmy had college to get to. Brian knocked up a girl and had to do the right thing. I tried out college for a time and then found my way here.”
“Seems like you miss it.” She dropped to sit beside the amplifier and crossed her legs. “You look like you’re having fun with Angel Fire.”
“I am. To be honest, this is every wet dream of mine coming true.”
She arched a brow. “Wet dream? I would hope playing with a bunch of guys isn’t what you’d call a wet dream.”
He rolled his eyes. “When you put it like that, I agree. My wet dreams are much more imaginative, and for the past several months, they have been nothing but pure torture. If you’re lucky, I might share one or two with you.”
“Your wet dreams?”
“My hot-as-fuck, want-to-get-in-your-pants sex dreams,” he said, cracking a smile. “Don’t think for a minute, I’m satisfied with a hurried fuck between the pallets. I intend to strip you down and devour every square inch of your body.”
Her eyes widened, and she squirmed on the floor. Even in the dimness, the pink of her cheeks couldn’t be missed.
“Ryker!”
“Tell me you haven’t thought of it,” he chided. “Tell me you’re not eager to feel me inside you again. And I definitely want a taste of you, a nice, slow lick of your p—”
“Ryker!”
“What?” he asked, loving what his dirty talk did to her. Loving it because he had barely started to make her squirm.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That.”
“You mean, tell you how I want to fuck you. How I want to bury my face between your legs and devour your pussy. Or how I want to tease your nipples until they’re tight and hard. Or how I want to get lost for days in those fabulous tits of yours. I plan on exploring every inch of your body and fucking you until you forget your name.”
The skin of his face split with his grin, and he stalked toward her, crouching and then bending down on his knees. He slung the guitar to his back, moving it out of the way.
She scooted back, her eyes wide and brimming with arousal. Her pink lips parted ever so slightly, allowing her breaths to pulse in and out.
He leaned in until his lips hovered kissably close. “Or how about how I want to kiss you and never ever let you go? Or maybe I should tell you about what else I want you to do with your lips. How I can’t wait to see them wrapped around my cock, your eyes locked on mine as I come deep inside you. How about that? Do you think—”
“We can’t,” she said. “It’s too risky.”
“We can, and we will. I plan to do at least some of that later tonight.”
“Ryker…”
“Hey, my barracks might not be private, but yours likely will be. I’m not taking you up against some wall in the darkness. I plan to strip you and enjoy every inch of you with the lights on, and I’m serious about my cock.”
Her brows pinched.
He ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I want you wrapped around me, Tia. It’s all I can think about. You on your knees, me in your mouth.” Reaching down, he adjusted his cock. It throbbed with need, but it was too early to disappear for the night, and he still needed to soothe her nerves. Fucking wouldn’t erase the trauma of the day. It migh
t make her forget for a spell, but music was therapy for the soul. They’d have time to fuck later.
“Now, you’ve got me all riled up and hard as fuck.”
“Need help with that?”
“Yes, but not here,” he said, laughing. “Although I love where your head is. I’m talking about taking a moment to sit back and relax. Besides, we still have to hit dinner before the chow hall closes.”
“You are going to be the death of me, Ryker.”
“Mmm,” he said.
“What?”
“I like hearing my name on your lips.”
A smile brightened her face. “I like saying it, too, but only in private. Around the team, you’re still Lyons.”
“I get it.” He sat across from her and brought the guitar around. “Now, let me show you what I can do with this thing.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rebound
Tia
Tia leaned back. Placing her hands behind her on the stage, she didn’t mind a little bit of dirt. She stretched her legs out, crossed her ankles, and tilted her head to stare at the hangar roof. While she made herself comfortable, Ryker tuned the guitar.
It wasn’t music, not in the strict sense of the word, but the soulful sound resonated deep within her chest. The way it started off was discordant, and then, with tiny tweaks, it became perfect, blowing her away. Not that she would know what perfect was, except it sounded good.
“I like the way it feels,” she said.
“The music or something else?” he asked.
That was a good question. She meant the music but loved their easy banter. Things hadn’t really changed since they had sex, except that they had. The easy familiarity between them remained, but it was deeper now. When she was with him, a desire curled in her belly. It promised something more, a physical release she desperately craved after the events of the day.
They were exploring new ground. Opening themselves up in ways they’d never done before. She shared more of herself, tiny pieces she normally kept private, and he was doing the same. Casual, when it came to sex, wasn’t a part of her vocabulary. She was either committed or not.
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