Already, she could tell a difference in Lyons and wondered if her shower had done as much good for her as it had for him. It wasn’t that he looked much different. The scruff on his face had been shaved off, and his sandy-blond hair flopped at the top. Regulations demanded a high and tight haircut, but like most men, Lyons stretched the regs where he could. High and tight meant the sides were kept trim, but he kept the top of his hair as long as possible without breaking the rules. A lighter shade than before, it was no longer caked in sweat, grime, and the ever-present desert sand that infiltrated every bit of their lives.
His gaze traveled over her, taking in her narrow face. She kept her long black hair tied up into a tight regulation bun at the back of her head and probably looked about the same as she did in the field.
“You look good, cleaned up,” he said.
“Thanks.” She was absolutely certain he hadn’t said the same to Warren.
Although, from the state of Warren’s fatigues, he clearly had searched out the borrowed laptop in lieu of finding the showers. To each their own. Perhaps, when she was married, she’d do the same. She scooted away from Warren, giving him as much privacy to Skype with his family as possible.
“Have you found out if there’s anything to do?” she asked.
Her electronics were plugged in to charge back at her barracks. Her e-reader had died a few days ago. It was jammed with various books: fantasy, science fiction, and romance. There were a few mysteries and thrillers on there as well, but she kept her reading for the long nights in the field. Bagram certainly had to have something else worthwhile. A movie maybe? Music? The ever-dreaded karaoke?
The general din quieted in the chow hall, and with most others, she turned to see who had entered. Likely, it was one of the camp commanders. Only someone with that kind of rank could silence the troops with their presence. Indeed, a colonel had entered, but that wasn’t why the room had hushed.
She screeched and bounced to her feet. “Forest!”
FOUR
Forest
The roomquieted with the new arrivals, but her shriek brought the place to a standstill. That silence might have something to do with seeing a major running across the room and launching herself into the arms of a man who towered over other men.
Forest Summers wasn’t someone people ignored. Rooms quieted. Crowds parted. The man was monolithic with tree-trunk legs, arms nearly as thick, a chest to break men, and piercing ice-blue eyes to soften the hearts of women. His glacial features cracked upon seeing her, and those powerful arms of his spread wide and caught her in his embrace. The firmness of his lips curled upward as a smile lifted his face into an expression of joy.
“Tia!” he boomed. “What in the love of God are you doing here?”
She ignored the stunned looks of the colonel standing beside her good friend. The fact that the room had gone quiet barely registered.
“What am I doing here?” she countered. “What areyoudoing here?”
As women went, she would be considered tall. Standing a few inches shy of six feet, she had the musculature to hold her own with men much taller, broader, and stronger than she. Being male or female didn’t matter in her line of work. There were men doing her job who were the same height or smaller. If they were physically capable of performing the rigors of the job, they should have it. She worked out to keep pace with the men in her unit, but none of them made her feel physically small. Encapsulated in Forest’s arms, she felt tiny and diminutive.
What had brought Forest to Bagram? He wasn’t involved in the military. Or rather, he wasn’t involved in the US military. Forest had fingers in nearly every industry, tech being his favorite, but she’d heard from his sister that he ran a private security company as well.
“I’m scouting for the band,” he said.
There was only one band Forest could mean. “Angel Fire?”
He gave a nod.
“They’re coming here?”
His grin widened, flashing his pearly-white teeth.
“You a fan?” he asked.
“Not nearly as much as you,” she teased.
She had to push him away. That was the thing with Forest. His hugs could last forever. It was like, once he got a hold of someone, he rarely ever let them go. Unless that person happened to be Skye. Those two never touched.
“I’m not a fan anymore,” he said. “I’ve taken over management.”
She poked him. “Liar. That might be true, but you and I both know you’re totally still a fan.”
He laughed. A deep rumble spilled through the chow hall, and in its wake, excited whispers flew. Angel Fire wasn’t just a band. It wastheband of the century. Legends back home, their concerts sold outwithin minutes to venues packing in tens of thousands. For them to be coming here wasn’t just news. It was extraordinary.
“So,” she said, asking the question everyone in the room wanted to hear, “when are they coming?” Her crew would be shipping out in two days. “I’m afraid I’m going to miss them.”
