RYKER
Ryker didn’t knowwhy 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 looked 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 tuggedher 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 theedges 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.”
