“Vane has it out for the two of you.” Forest slapped his hand on his thigh, brushing off a cloud of ever-present sand and dirt. He stepped back and dropped his shoulders. “I’m thankful you weren’t there. The last thing the two of you needed was an overly affectionate good-bye.”
“It was my team,” he said, jabbing his fingers into his scalp. “I should have been there to wish them well.”
The entire purpose of a special ops surgical team was to drop behind enemy lines, brave hot zones, and stabilize the wounded for evacuation. Tia was out there without him to back her up. She’d castrate him if she ever realized how much of her burden he shouldered.
Who would help her now? Warren? That man had two boys and twins on the way to get home to. Warren would never take a bullet for Tia. Drummond and Marks? They were arrogant assholes, cocky as hell and hell-bent on strutting their greater-than-thou stuff. They were good guys for the most part, but they had wives and kids, too. Maybe Collins? Collins might be the only one to place himself between Tia and a bullet, but he wouldn’t do it unless there was no other choice.
“Shit, Forest.” He was back to pacing in a circle. “She’s out there all alone.”
“Not alone,” Forest said. “She’s a tough cookie. Don’t you trust her?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then, trust her to do her job. Like every other mission. She’s tougher than nails.”
“I know, but they went out with a new guy.”
A man who’d taken Ryker’s place on the team. A man who hadn’t yet been vetted on a training mission. He’d heard Tech Sergeant Miles had arrived yesterday. The guy had barely had time to recuperate after the marathon trip to Bagram. He’d be a liability.
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” Forest said. “So, why don’t you shove all that lover-boy angst inside your trap and focus on what you need to do?”
Was Forest really suggesting what Ryker thought? How was he to act like Tia wasn’t out there, putting her life at risk?
“Play for the fucking band,” Forest said, jerking Ryker to a stop. “You fucking put on your big-girl panties, plaster a smile on your damn face, and play your fucking heart out. This is what you people do. You fight. You die. You fucking live!” Forest’s growl turned to a roar. “These guys don’t have an escape from this place. They live it, breathe it, sleep in it, and fuck it every day. You know this because you’re one of them. You don’t get to freak out because your girlfriend is out there, doing what she loves. If you have any respect for her at all, you’ll do your part, too.”
“My part?” He snorted. “You mean, stand onstage and look pretty?” He belonged out on that mission.
“You’re a fucking ass, Ryker, but yeah. You get on that stage. You look pretty. You make that music roll off that stage and sweep them away to another place. You give them one moment of not being tired, bored, or scared as fuck. You let them forget how fucking lonely they are. How they have left loved ones behind and are placing themselves at risk every day. You get up there, and you blow this place up.”
“You’re a fucking bastard,” Ryker said.
“A bastard who tells the truth. You know I’m right.”
Admitting the truth of Forest’s words didn’t come easily, but the bastard was right. He was right about all of it. Ryker’s job might no longer be by Tia’s side, but she didn’t need him. He might think he protected her, sheltered her, but Tia didn’t need anybody. She was brass balls and steel tits. That was why he loved her.
Shit, he loved her.
“Now, get your shit together,” Forest said, “because I’ve got some news you’re going to hate.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Shots
Tia
The vibrations of the helicopter thumped through Tia’s ass, shaking her from the inside out and wreaking havoc with her nerves. The trip took longer than anticipated, and during the whole ordeal, Tech Sergeant Miles never once shut the fuck up. Over the drone of the blades chopping through the air, she learned he’d been the star quarterback in high school and in college, although she’d never heard of his no-name school. If she were to believe him, he’d been specially recruited into Harvard Medical School. His snort of disdain and the ten explanations why he hadn’t gone to medical school brought raised eyebrows from the rest of the team. Warren ignored him, and the docs sat on the opposite side, too far to hear—or so they pretended.
Why had Collins picked this man?
Sergeant Miles had taken a seat next to her, which meant she was the only one not spared his incessant monologue. Medical school had been turned down because he didn’t think it made financial sense. He’d wanted to travel the world. And that football fame? That had brought a recruiter to his doorstep. He also said he had been hand-selected for special ops training. Now, that was bullshit. Nobody was picked for this job. They were weeded out from hundreds of hopefuls.
Short sandy hair, a spray of freckles splattered across his face, he had a Barney Rubble build, short and stocky, but built like a brick house. All the men she worked with were in peak physical condition, which meant he didn’t get any points for that. His call to fame as a quarterback had her lifting a brow. He didn’t have the physique to play that position. Nodding where appropriate, she listened while he shouted his life story over the noise as the helicopter cut through the desert air.
Less than an hour later, they reached their insertion site. A group of Marines had been ambushed. Two of their men were down. Several more were wounded. Reinforcements were on the way, but they needed immediate evacuation for the injured. It wasn’t the first time her team had been inserted into a hot zone, but this was the first time she felt nervous about it.
In the silence left behind by the disappearing helicopter, Collins gathered them around. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he pulled out his maps and briefed them on the mission.
“We have a ten click hump over rough terrain.” Instead of glancing at her, something he habitually did to check on her readiness, his gaze zeroed in on Miles. “There’s nothing pretty about this route. We travel in silence.” Another penetrating glare at Miles. “I don’t want to hear a peep.”
“Yes, sir,” came a round of acknowledgments.
“They’re on a rooftop, and support is coming in. The cavalry should arrive before us.”
“And if they don’t?” Drummond asked.
“We slip in.” Collins glanced around to make certain everyone understood. “We do what we’ve been trained to do—stabilize and fix what we can.”
She didn’t like this mission. “Sir, if they’re pinned down, how are we supposed to slip in?”
Miles snorted. “I got you, babe,” he said.
It was a good thing she would only be doing this one mission with him. His insipid self-love inspired hatred. That wasn’t good. Not when she would have to trust her life to him.
“T doesn’t need your damn help,” Warren mumbled. “She’s been doing this longer than you.” He stood and tossed his pack on his shoulders and then lifted hers off the ground. “You ready, T?”
She shrugged on the heavy pack and settled it low on her hips. “Let’s kick ass,” she said, ignoring Miles.
Warren took off at a trot, and she followed him. The other men shouldered their packs and set off. Collins hadn’t lied about their path. Rocky and traveling up and down ravines, they used the landscape and the deepening shadows of dusk to hide their movements as best they could. The unit they were supporting had been ambushed just outside a small village. Their lead vehicle had taken a rocket, and they were sheltering in place, trading fire with a handful of insurgents. Likely, those insurgents were armed goat herders with a lucky rocket and poor aim. Nevertheless, they had two men clinging to life. Evac helicopters were on standby.
Warren raced into the darkness. Tia ran behind him, her breath pulsing in and out as her body pushed the limits of her endurance. Behind them, Miles took centerline of their group. His steps never faltered. Despite
his stocky build, the man could run. He didn’t push her but kept pace precisely four strides behind. At least he knew the basics of how a team operated. Maybe he wasn’t that bad.
With his fist raised in the air, Warren gave the signal to halt. Tia crouched down. Her chest heaved with exertion. Between breaths, she sipped water. Miles followed suit while Collins, who had been holding up the rear, moved from the end of the line to Warren’s position. The two of them scrambled up to the top of the ravine.
“You doing okay?” Miles asked.
“I’m good,” she said. “You?”
“It’s always different on a mission, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
He jerked his chin toward Collins and Warren and then lowered his voice. “On training missions, it’s hard as fuck but doable. You hear me?”
“Um, sure?” She didn’t understand what he was trying to say.
“It’s the adrenaline.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly understanding.
Intense and grueling, training missions were designed to test a team’s reaction under stress. They were orchestrated to be as realistic as possible, except they weren’t. No one was trying to kill them during a training exercise.
“I’ve heard good things about you.” He pulled out the hose to his CamelBak and took a long pull of water. “Your team is impressed by you.”
“Thank you.”
“I have to say, I was a bit nervous.”
“About the mission?”
He shook his head. “I don’t mean to be a dick about it, but I have to be honest…”
“You didn’t think I could do the job.” She finished his sentence and found her irritation rising again.
Miles needed to shut up.
He grinned. “I didn’t.” He took another long drink. “I was wrong. Thought you should know that.” He scrambled to his feet and joined Collins and Warren at the ridgeline.
Drummond moved up to her position. “You okay, T?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Miles is a piece of work, isn’t he?”
“If you mean, he’s cocky as shit, arrogant as fuck, and overly presumptive, then yeah, I’d say so.”
Drummond laughed. “This is true, but aren’t we all?”
She rolled her eyes and gave a soft laugh. “Now, that is the truth.”
Shots rang out in the valley below. Gunfire exchanged for several heart-stopping moments. Then, silence split the night.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Pyrotechnics
Ryker
“Germany!” Ryker howled. “You want me to go to fucking Germany?” His mouth gaped at the absurdity of the idea. “This is supposed to be a local gig.”
Forest laughed. “Funny, but I was expecting that reaction. You should try to be less predictable.”
“Predictable, my ass. Nobody said anything about leaving the deployment theater.”
“I can’t believe you don’t want to get out of here.”
Leaving Afghanistan meant leaving Tia behind. Rock-and-roll dreams aside, he had priorities. Top on that list was the woman who not only made his dick hard, but had also somehow managed to make his heart ache.
“I’m not leaving.” He emphasized his words with a stomp of his boot.
Forest’s eyes cut down to the ground, and a smirk bounced on his lips. “You’re doing whatever your orders say, Sergeant.” Forest was having too much fun with this exchange. The asshole cracked a huge grin. “That includes going to England.”
“What the fucking fuck? England, too?” This was madness and not what he’d agreed to.
Unfortunately, Forest had one thing right. He’d go wherever his orders dictated. In the military, the one thing a person didn’t own was the right to decide their fate.
“We leave tonight,” Forest said, striding away. “Right after the concert.”
Ryker sputtered curses to an empty stage. This was exactly the kind of shit he didn’t need.
He had a concert to play and needed to be in the right headspace. No mistakes. That was his greatest fear—getting up on that stage and looking like an ass. Worse, making the guys look like dicks for placing their trust in an amateur.
That had been the whole reason for getting here early. He needed a moment to walk the stage before the concert. Instead, he had run into Forest and shitty news.
Shitty?
The fact that he was complaining about being forced to travel with Angel Fire was not lost on him. He still couldn’t believe he was playing with one of the most popular bands of all time. It should’ve been the best thing to happen to him, except, somewhere along the line, he’d lost Tia.
Focus!
A glance out the open hangar doors revealed a cloudless sky and the sun sinking below the horizon. It was the end to another day. Dusk blanketed the base as the sun disappeared. It would be dark soon. Tia was out there, vulnerable and at risk. He hated not being with her, but he had to put his thoughts of her to the side. It was time to get his shit together and play one of the best damn sets of his life.
Less than an hour later, the stage was set. Giant speakers occupied the four corners of the stage, ready to belt out sound. The lights were ready and pyrotechnics, too. People had gathered, pouring in for another epic night of raw, unhinged music. As more and more arrived, the large hangar felt smaller and smaller. Then, the entire world exploded with the arrival of the band.
The crowd surged back and forth as Angel Fire rocked it onstage. Those up front packed in tight, moving forward and back as one. They were like wild waves of the ocean, moving with a chaotic beauty. They pushed and shoved the others around, yet there were no angry shouts. Everything was done as a group, crazy fans who’d gathered to listen to a night of rock and roll. They all looked for an up-front and personal glimpse of their favorite star.
Ryker was right beside the men of Angel Fire. Even Bent was there. Released on pass from the hospital, he hung out backstage. His shattered arm had been placed in a cast.
The eager anticipation of the fans greeted them, and the band hit the ground running with a crescendo of noise and flash of lights. The level of sound was astronomical. The decibels were on the threshold of pain, but nobody cared. Spike strode onstage with the beginning riffs of the opening beats of “Heart’s Insanity.” They played a mix of old and new. Ryker knew every song by heart and played more by ear and heart than anything else.
Bash was cool as shit on the drums, his beat tight and snappy with a blend of awesome and holy fuck. Noodles had the keyboards flying, pelting out note after vicious note. Ryker hit the bass riff like a machine gun, weaving through the songs as he followed Spike’s lead on guitar. In the center of it all, Ash strutted his stuff, pouring out pure emotion and strength with vocal adrenaline.
Although hard edges dominated Angel Fire’s signature sound, they melded in sensuous, seductive melodies throughout. They were raw, raucous, and rebellious while being soulful, sinful, and hot as fuck. Their music ripped out the hearts of their fans and tore at their guts.
Music roared through the hangar, and the crowd went crazy for more. Every time the bass drum was struck, Ryker’s chest vibrated from the percussive blast. Even his teeth chattered. The floor beneath his feet moved to the beat of the song, and each sound passed through his body like a pulse of electricity. In sensory overload, his entire body was stimulated to capacity.
As the concert reached its climax, Angel Fire led with their greatest hits. Ash had the crowd eating out of the palms of his hands, feeding off his vocal range. One song moved seamlessly into the next while the crowd kept in synch with the band, surging back and forth as a mass of holy fuck. The stage was a constant flurry of excitement as Ash and Spike worked the stage with him. Plenty of pyrotechnics kept spots dancing in his eyes, but he didn’t need his sight to feel the music pouring through his body and into the bass guitar.
Through the rush of it all, his mind wandered to Tia and what hell she must be going through. Every mission sucked. He
had faith in her abilities, and her skills were top notch, but he hated not being with her and would never forgive himself if things went south for her and the team.
With a bang, the largest pyrotechnics display went off. He shuddered with most of those in the crowd. For people who lived under the very real threat of mortar attack, loud explosions during a concert might not be the best idea. He made a note to speak with Smiley about it after the show.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Move
Tia
A loud bang sounded, and a concussive blast took Tia’s breath away.
“Incoming!” Warren shouted from the ridge. “Take cover!”
Cover? Her ears rang from the explosion.
Warren grabbed the shoulder strap of her pack and pulled her down the steep slope toward a mass of boulders. She stumbled and nearly tripped as her boots slipped over the loose rock and stone. Collins and Miles raced behind them, scrambling for the protective cover of rock and stone.
“Who’s shooting at us?” Miles shouted.
Who cares?
Another blast took out a chunk of the ridge. That had been a shoulder rocket aimed at them. Answering machine gun fire sounded below. The entire sky lit up with sharp bursts of light pulsing with the popping of ammunition.
Drummond and Marks found the safety of the rocks and waved for the rest to join them. Warren kept her beside him, urging her to pick up the pace. An explosion overhead had them tumbling to the ground. Her ears rang in protest to the deafening sound. Warren’s mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear his words. She couldn’t hear anything, but she could read his lips.
Get your ass up, T!
With a push off the ground, she staggered to her feet and raced the last twenty feet to the low boulders. The rocks would shelter them unless a rocket managed to land a direct attack. Odds were, they would be safe.
Heart's Desire Page 26
