Somehow, Forest had arranged for Angel Fire to play at Wembley Stadium in London. Ryker’s stomach was still knotted with the news. At capacity, the stadium held ninety thousand fans. How Forest had managed to book a large venue like Wembley in such a short period of time remained a mystery, but Forest accomplished the impossible on a daily basis. In honor of their USO tour, Angel Fire planned to donate all proceeds from that concert to a veterans group.
Ryker couldn’t believe he’d be taking the stage and playing to a crowd of that size. His dream couldn’t get any more real. Yet, through it all, his heart ached to be someplace else.
Tia faced judgment today. Forest and Skye had flown back to provide moral support, leaving him behind. Ash and the rest had had no problem canceling one show for Ryker to stand by his woman’s side. Vane had denied his request, stating the needs of the tour outweighed any personal concerns. Simply put, Vane was an ass.
With his thoughts in turmoil, Ryker turned his attention back to the rhythm of the music, letting it soak into his soul and stir his heart to life. He missed Tia with an aching hunger.
He jammed with Spike while the rhythmic flow of Ash’s voice reverberated through the speakers and crashed into the crowd. The man had an amazing vocal range, leaving Ryker, who had a great voice of his own, struggling to back him up. The music thundered with Bash’s percussive lead. Ryker supported him on bass, plucking the strings with spunk. Ash’s charisma radiated outward, washing over the crowd where it transformed them into something wild, powerful, and free.
For his part, Ryker latched on to that passion and let it guide his fingers down the neck of the guitar. Ash belted out the lyrics, and his voice hit octaves that took away the breaths of the men and stole the heart of every woman in attendance. Ryker did his part and jumped around the stage, adding to the energy of the band. His head bobbed to the beat and synced with the heaving mass of the crowd.
Smiley had removed the percussive blasts from the pyrotechnics display and replaced them with thick, rolling clouds of smoke. As they’d done on previous nights, the band rocked the stage with adrenaline, fire, and explosive energy. Applause thundered all around as the last note of the encore played.
With his chest heaving with exertion, Ryker yanked the guitar strap off his neck and held out the instrument for a roadie to grab. It was too easy to believe the stars in his eyes belonged to him, and tomorrow would only bring more confusion. He moved to the back of the stage and met Bent at the base of the stairs.
“Fucking awesome,” Bent said.
“Thanks, man,” he said with a duck of his head.
Bent refused to allow Ryker to feel awkward about filling in for him, but Ryker couldn’t help but feel guilty. He really loved being on that stage. Playing with Angel Fire came as natural as breathing, and when the time came for him to step down, he would miss the pulse of stardom.
Bent’s injuries ensured he would be out of commission for several months to come. Extensive rehabilitation loomed in his future. Despite his injury, he joined the band after every performance, penning his signature for the waiting fans after the music ended.
Spike jogged down the stairs and clapped Ryker on the back. “You coming?” Spike already had a pen in hand.
“I’ll be right there.” Ryker pulled out his cell phone and held it up. “Need to check my messages.”
Spike’s brows twitched. They knew about Tia and her trial. None of them understood why it had turned into such a big deal. To them, a person should be able to fuck whomever they wanted, whenever they wanted to, and it was no business of anyone else. They didn’t understand the rigid demands of the military or the rules and regulations that ensured good discipline, and they certainly didn’t understand why Tia was taking the fall instead of him.
He’d tried to explain the responsibilities of an officer and how, in the eyes of the military, the fault lay squarely on her shoulders, but they shook their heads and shrugged. They couldn’t fathom the depth of guilt he shouldered, knowing he was the one truly at fault. If not for that kiss…
Ash and Bash took the stairs together, nearly tripping over themselves as they wrestled. Bash had his arm wrapped around Ash’s shoulders and pulled Ash’s head in, rubbing his knuckles into Ash’s head. Those two wrestled and fought like brothers; their bond was tighter than tight.
“You coming?” Bash asked.
He lifted his phone and shook it. “Checking my texts.”
“Don’t keep the fans waiting,” Bash said.
Ash punched Bash in the gut and freed himself. He danced around Bash, fists up, taking playful jabs. Bash rolled his eyes and stepped around Ash with a laugh.
Ash’s arms went down, deflated, but the lift to his step remained. “Do your thing, but join us up front. Everyone wants to take their picture with you.”
“Will do.”
It still amazed him how true that statement was. He’d gained notoriety since playing with Angel Fire, the military man who’d hit gold. The troops were as eager to talk to him as they were to get a signature with the band. They wanted to know how he’d stumbled into this chance. What was it like, playing with Angel Fire? Did he get to hang out with them after the concerts? There were other questions, but those were the ones most repeated.
With a swipe of his thumb, he turned on his cell phone. Forest had left a text, and as always, it was direct and to the point. That man didn’t waste time with unnecessary words.
Forest:No trial. Discharge. Chin up, bro.
What the hell did that mean? Discharge? Tia was being discharged!
FORTY-THREE
Coming Home
TIA
