Collins waved him away, too engrossed in his conversation with Skye to say anything. Without another thought, Ryker headed straight over to T.
“Hey there,” he said, interrupting the conversation. He placed a hand on T’s shoulder and another on Bent’s. “Whatcha doing with my girl?”
T’s head snapped up, and she gave him a vicious stare. Bent turned to see who’d approached, and his face widened in a grin. He scooted over, making room for Ryker. He slid himself into the narrow space, wedging himself in exactly where he wanted to be—between T and Bent.
Bent slung an arm around Ryker’s shoulders and raised his voice to carry. “I don’t know if we’re supposed to say anything, but this dude here…this dude is going to be rocking it onstage with me.”
Bent’s announcement was met with a chorus of, “No way!” and, “Cool!” and, “Righteous!”
Forest approached, his massive size bringing the ambient noise down half a notch. The man simply had a presence about him that couldn’t be ignored. “Wasn’t that supposed to be a surprise, Bent?”
“Ah, you know better than to trust me with surprises.” Bent cocked a thumb at Ryker and leaned in toward the table. This resulted in everyone at the table and those standing around it to lean in close. “This dude is a hidden wonder. And you won’t believe what he can do with the bass.”
Eyes widened, and mouths gaped. Another chorus of “No way!” and, “Cool!” ricocheted around the table.
The only one who kept silent was T, who crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.
He ignored T and gave a nod. “Well, that’s the plan, and I have to tell you, I’m pretty pumped.” He gave Bent a manly shoulder bump. “I can’t believe it either.”
Forest gave a soft laugh. “No wonder Tuttle didn’t fight when I took over. You’re unmanageable.”
“I don’t remember him having a choice,” Bent said. “I think you were quite persuasive.”
“I asked,” he corrected.
“You mean, you moved in to protect your sis from Ash.”
Forest waved a dismissive hand. “That was then. I’m speaking of now and how you’re incapable of keeping surprises.”
Bent slapped Ryker on the back. “This dude is epically talented, and I can’t wait to share the stage with him.” He pointed around the table. “Who all is going to make it to the concert tomorrow?”
Every arm lifted.
“Good,” Forest rumbled. “Hope to see all of you there. And we’ll be making our rounds through the shops, too. The band is pumped to see what all of you are doing to keep our country free. Thank you all for your service.” With that, Forest left the table and headed off to where Noodles was entertaining another group of airmen.
T unfolded her arms and pressed her palms against the table. “I can’t wait. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
She extricated herself from the table and left Ryker sputtering. With Bent going on and on about playing with him, he wasn’t in a position to follow T. And she headed directly to Noodles’s table. As she wrapped an arm around Forest, Ryker watched with alarm as she yet again worked her way to a position directly beside one of the men of Angel Fire.
It was a struggle to keep his frustration in check, but there was nothing more to do about it. While continuing the conversation with Bent and those gathered at the table, he never once let his attention waver from the one person he most wanted to spend the evening with. As the night progressed, he felt her slipping further and further away.
TWELVE
Hum
Ryker lost Tthrough the night. When he and Bent left the cafeteria, she’d already made her exit. Either she’d taken an early night or found success in her crackpot scheme. No doubt he’d find out later. He found himself taken under Bent’s wing where they returned to the hangar and had an impromptu jam session until the late hours of the night. Bent seemed to be enjoying himself, but Ryker knew there was a purpose behind the playing.
While Angel Fire wanted to showcase one of the troops, the band needed to know Ryker could hold his own onstage. His playing wasn’t perfect, but it was damn good. It took time for his brain to switch from left to right where he could access his more creative side. By the end of the evening, he was pretty damn flawless. It felt good to sink into a more creative place, and he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Given a choice, he’d leave his job behind and hook up with his pals from high school, reform the old band, and give the playing thing a go. He’d do all of that, except he truly loved his career.
His days were full of physical conditioning, stress, and mental demands, which would challenge the sanest person on the planet. Inmedicine, there was no room for error. As a member of a special ops surgical team, there wasn’t even room for hesitation. Every decision had to be spot-on. Mistakes meant the difference between life and death. The same wasn’t true of music. Even with a bass riff laid down, there was room to play with it, mold it, and turn it into something different. That was what he did as the evening wore on.
He and Bent sat at the edge of the stage, balancing their guitars on their knees, and played one classic to the next, tossing in variations while challenging the other to keep up. He loved that freedom of movement.
While they played, Smiley and the rest of the roadies continued setting up the stage, checking out lighting, sound, and even a few pyrotechnics. Unlike most other singers and bands who toured with only the bare-bones necessities, Angel Fire had brought the whole shebang. They had the clout and money to bring whatever the hell they wanted. It hadn’t escaped his notice that they’d brought two commercial jets to Bagram.
The evening wound down, and Ryker retreated to his bunk until morning found him far too early. He skipped breakfast and opted instead for another shower. After changing into a clean set of fatigues, he met up with his team at the medical center. They unpacked their rucks together and inventoried them in pairs. He and T sat together while Warren and Drummond, and Collins and Marks formed their pairs. The next two hours were spent in relative silence, checking and double-checking supplies.
Once everyone had their rucks repacked, Collins gathered them around for a debrief. They discussed the mission—from insertion through delivery of their patients to the medical center, looking for opportunities to improve. Collins seemed most concerned about how they’d strayed off course. All they could come up with was their insertion had to be off. After the meeting, Collins dismissed everyone for the day. Their time was their own.
