He shifted and curled against the window, letting out a soft snore.
“I’ll match Skye,” Bent added.
Forest unfolded from his seat up front and dug a bill out of his pocket. “A bet’s no good if everyone is betting on one side.” He slapped a hundred into Noodles’s hand. “One hundred, he not only wakes up but kicks all your asses for playing with Baby.”
“You in?” Noodles turned toward Ryker. “Bet’s on the table.”
Ryker raised his hands. “No way in hell I’m betting on either side of this.”
“Wuss,” Bent said. “We’ll get you there.”
Forest turned back and headed to his seat. “Get used to it, lover boy. These guys bet on everything—and I do meaneverything.”
He’d heard rumors, but he kept his mouth shut out of respect for Skye. While he’d hoped the banter about the bet would take the attention off him, he was wrong because Spike slapped the strings on the neck of the guitar.
“You ready?” Spike asked.
“Ready for what?” He hated to ask, although a challenge was clearly being laid in his lap.
“This is a new song Ash and I have been working on. I’ll play it once, and let’s see how much of it you can play back.”
Oh shit.“After one go?” he said. “I said after hearing it a time or two.”
“Well, you get one pass,” Spike said. “Let’s see what you can do.”
Holy hellfire, this was happening.
Bent leaned back, shifting his back to the window where he clasped his arms over his head. “The song’s almost finished. It’s a hero song made for this tour.”
“Why didn’t you play it at the concert?”
“Ash says it’s not polished enough,” Bent said.
A low, resonating note peeled out of the guitar, an introduction of what would soon follow. While Spike’s fingers moved, a warm, cascading sound rolled through the bus, making the hairs on Ryker’s arm stand up and pay attention.
Baby had an organic richness to her sound, woody and earthy. Spike drove the harmonies, distorting them and compressing them into tight, heavy, and focused rushes of sensation. Ryker sat back, awed, with the privilege of hearing what would surely be one of their next hits.
The song began with loose chords, full of vigor and strength, and then mellowed out for a time until returning bright with eagerness and bold, resounding melodies. Beside him, Bent lent his vocals to the song, his deep voice melding with the building darkness. Then, it happened—a crescendo of power, metallic and harsh, brash and soulful.
Dirty, hot, and unapologetic, the song raced down his nerves, ripped through his gut, and sliced at his heart. Pure and powerful emotions tunneled through him—joy, sadness, camaraderie, and that aching loneliness of lost brothers at arms. The sound tweaked down, becoming smoky and hollow, leaving Ryker with a profound feeling of loss and grief. He felt like he had fought a battle, entered hell, and been spit back out, forever damaged and scarred.
“Holy fuck,” he said. “That was…it was intense.”
Spike let the last notes hover in the air. All conversation had stopped. He glanced up. “You like it?”
Ryker looked over his shoulder and caught Tia swiping at her cheeks. “I love it,” he said.
TWENTY
Knocked Out
RYKER
Spike restedBaby on his knee and balanced his wrist on the long neck. “You need a second go, or you think you’ve got it?” His pierced brow lifted in challenge.
With the challenge laid at Ryker’s feet, there was no turning back. He would probably fuck this up, but no way in hell would he refuse.
“I can try, but no judging.”
