“I think you might want to go chase that pretty airman,” she said, deflecting the unwanted sexual tension.
“Maybe she’s not who I want,” he asserted.
She didn’t care who he wanted. Right now, he stood in the way of her and a little hot water therapy. Unlike their post, Bagram had few restrictions on how long she spent in the shower.
“Well,” she said, stepping away, “you have an entire base to find your one.”
Or at least, his one for the night. Knowing Lyons, there would be two and maybe even three.
Chapter Three
Shower
Tia had grown up on and in water. Never in her life had she had a lack of it until arriving to the heat and desolation of Afghanistan. Here, water became a precious resource. In the field, it was used only for cooking, hydration, and washing hands. Mostly, they used gels to keep their hands clean. The alcohol was hell and only cracked already dry skin. That would be one other thing she would need to pick up at the exchange. Baby wipes, hand gel, and lotion. Baby wipes might seem like an odd item to stock on a forward-deployed base, but baby wipes not only kept babies smelling fresh and clean; they were also perfect for a quick field shower. One swipe of her face, pits, crotch, and ass, and she was as good as new.
Lyons jogged up behind her. “You know,” he said, “a shower sounds nice.”
“Just so long as you take yours separate from mine,” she teased.
“That eager to be rid of me? No scrub-a-dub-dub?”
“Aren’t you sick of me by now?”
“You can’t call dibs on showers. I need one, too.”
Her mind turned to things that should never happen, harmless fantasies best left in her head. He was simply following her into the showers, and in Bagram, they not only had separate showers for the men and women; they also had separate facilities.
There was no doubt Lyons was focused on what his evening might bring and the ladies he intended to lure into his bed. He had no interest in her. His nighttime goal would be a challenging proposition, considering he would be bunking with several other men. As an officer and one of the few on base, her temporary living facilities would be private. His would not.
They separated where the signs said women to the right and men to the left.
“Catch you later, T,” he called out.
“Sure,” she said, but the chances of them running into each other before morning report was slim to none. Officers and enlisted simply didn’t hang out together. “I’ll catch you later.” It was the easiest way to get rid of him.
The water ran a muddy brown for several minutes as dirt sluiced off her body. Soap being a luxury, she held it close to her face, sniffing the light floral scent. She hadn’t had any of her own, but the woman showering in the stall next to her had let her borrow the bar of soap.
She sighed underneath the water, lathered up her skin, and used way more soap than necessary in her hair. It could be a few weeks before she had the pleasure of a real shower again. Running her hands down her body, she worried about the rigors of her job. She’d lost weight again. Her percentage of body fat had to be pushing under ten percent. It was probably less than that. She was all lean muscles; it was a miracle she still had boobs. She’d been graced with a narrow waist and a graceful flare of her hips. If she lost her boobs, her silhouette would be decidedly boyish. She might live in a man’s world, but that didn’t mean she wanted to look like one—or worse, have the body of a prepubescent boy.
However, it was simply too hard, keeping up with her nutritional needs and the calories required to keep her weight in check. Her boobs had shrunk in the past week, and she felt the extra fabric gaping in her bra. It might be time to downsize to a B-cup. Yet another thing to add to her shopping list: new bras.
To be at the top of her game, she couldn’t afford to lose any more muscle mass. The chow hall would have to be her next stop. While here, she was going to load up on as much protein and carbs as she could stomach.
A quick trip to lodging, and she checked into her room. It wasn’t private. The converted cargo container had been outfitted with two bunks, and there was already someone else’s stuff tossed on the bottom bed. With a sigh, she placed her ruck on the floor and then opened it and inventoried the contents, checking her list of what needed resupply.
Her team would meet after breakfast. At the hospital, they would restock and debrief their last mission. She would check on the men they’d taken care of, if they were still there. The aeromedical evacuation system worked with brisk efficiency and was notorious for speedy transport. If there was a transport out tonight, both men would be on it, headed to Germany for definitive care.
After inventorying her supplies, she sat back and debated on what to do after chow. Despite the hustle and bustle of Bagram, there really wasn’t much to keep someone occupied. Of course, there was a gym, but she didn’t look forward to working out. One, she’d simply get sweaty again. Two, her entire job was one nonstop workout. She was in top shape, and not to brag, but she’d turned more eyes than Lyons on that short walk to the showers.
He was right; the men outnumbered the women nearly twenty, thirty, forty to one. Any way she counted, there were a lot more men than women. If she were so inclined, her bed could be filled with a stream of men. Fortunately, she had a devoted man waiting at home.
It was still late night for Scott. She’d have to wait a little longer before trying to call. As much as she looked forward to seeing him, messing with his sleep wasn’t worth it. Not when she could wait a few hours.
Chow hall first, and then she’d figure out the rest of her day. Not that she was particularly hungry, but she needed to replace the calories burned on that last mission. Lugging a seventy-pound pack was hard enough. Running with it? That was another matter.
Never empty, the mess hall was the nerve center of the base. It was a place to kick back and cut loose from the rigors of the day. Boisterous male voices rolled through the place. Most tables were full, except for a few at the far edges. At the fringes, individuals sat, usually with laptops in place. They ate with the crowd while hiding from it, too. Not surprisingly, many of them were officers. Most surprising, Lyons and Warren occupied an entire table by themselves. Warren had a laptop in front of him. Where he’d appropriated a laptop would probably be an interesting story. Out of the entire team, he seemed the most resourceful, trading favors for favors.
She got in line and made her way through, piling her tray heavily with meats and carbs, not asking too many questions about what the food might be. Then, she angled over to the table with her team.
Lyons eyed the room. No doubt he was gauging his potential conquests for the night. Odd that he didn’t have a woman draped over his arm by now. He spotted her, and his gaze meandered over her body, a head-to-toe examination that was at once cursory and entirely too inquisitive. With a sigh, she closed the distance.
Instead of some comment about her appearance, Lyons settled for a quiet chin bump. She sat across from him and beside Warren. Warren had earbuds shoved in his ears and a wide smile plastered on his face. The screen showed the delicate features of his wife and two rambunctious boys playing in the background.
Tia leaned over and waved to the screen. “Hi, Lily!”
She couldn’t hear Lily’s response, but Warren’s wife gave her a wave. Warren’s smile grew broader, and he spoke into the microphone, passing along the message. This left Tia to stare across the table at Lyons.
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-presen
t 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!”
Chapter Four
Forest
The room quieted 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 are you doing 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 was the band of the century. Legends back home, their concerts sold out within 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.”
Forest glanced down to his right and gave Colonel Vane a look. “Hmm. They’re coming in late tonight, and they were going to take a down day while the roadies set up. They’re on a USO tour. We’re either going to have to move that up or keep you here.”
There was no way her team would be granted an extra day in Bagram. They had a special ops unit to support, and missions constantly headed out.
“Hmm,” she said, “I don’t think keeping me here is possible.”
Someone approached from behind and to her right. Lyons’s presence couldn’t be denied. He had an uncanny ability to set her nerves firing and the fine hairs on her arms lifting. Had he come over because he recognized Forest? Or had he come over, full of his protective instincts?
“Who is this, T?” he demanded.
She shook her head. Lyons positioned himself a little too close and crossed his arms over his chest, puffing out as he faced Forest. Lyons was a tall man in his own right. Six-four, he towered over her, but he had to crane his neck to stare at Forest.
Forest’s eyes narrowed, and then he arched a brow. “Name’s Forest.” He shoved out his meaty hand.
Lyons gave Forest a shake and then greeted the colonel after taking a quick read of his name tag. “Good evening, Colonel Vane.”
Colonel Vane gave Lyons a nod, making her feel like an ass for ignoring the senior officer.
“Good evening,” Colonel Vane said.
“Tia and I go way back,” Forest rumbled. “I’ve known her since she was a kid.”
“Really?” Lyons turned to her. “Somehow, I can’t imagine T ever being a kid.”
“Oh, she was scrappy and full of spitfire. Barely kept her out of—”
“Hey,” she interjected. “No need to be spilling my secrets. I have to work with this guy.”
Forest ran his fingers through his shocking white-blond hair. “Um…”
She turned to Lyons. “Suffice it to say, Forest and I crossed paths when I was having trouble with a certain foster family. It’s because of him that I went into nursing school.”
“And Skye,” Forest asserted.
“Well, it was because of Skye that I became a CRNA.”
“Skye?” Lyons asked.
“My sister,” Forest answered. “She and Tia used to work together in the emergency department in DC.”
“Skye encouraged me to apply for CRNA school.”
“And join the military?” Lyons asked, glancing between them.
Lyons was fishing for pieces of her past, making her realize how little she shared with the men in her team. Not that she could fault him for asking. She was a part of them yet apart from them. Joining in with their male banter was awkward for all involved. Men simply thought and interacted differently than women.
“Scholarships,” she answered. “I was broke and didn’t like the idea of a few hundred thousand in debt when I got out of school.”
“Ah,” Lyons said. “Why am I only just now finding out about this?”
She shrugged. “Guess it never came up.” Stopping suddenly, she realized they’d been carrying on a conversation while the colonel stood silently, watching the exchange. “Sir, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Colonel Vane clasped his hands to his front and rocked back on his heels. “I think it’s great. What are the odds that Angel Fire’s manager would know someone here?” He turned to Forest. “This could be a great PR angle. What do you think?”
“Hmm, there are possibilities,”
Forest answered in his low rumble. “We’re just finishing up a tour of the base. Colonel Vane was showing me where the food was.” He turned to the colonel. “Do we have anything else to discuss? Or would it be okay to share a meal with my friend?”
Colonel Vane glanced around the chow hall. “It’s seldom anyone gets to see someone from home. How about we send someone for you in an hour?” He glanced at Tia.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “And thank you, sir.”
Colonel Vane excused himself, and Forest surveyed the room. “That chow line doesn’t look that inviting.”
“Are you kidding?” She grabbed his arm and pulled him to the end of the line.
Several of the enlisted tried to let him cut to the front, but Forest gave a sharp shake of his head and planted himself at the end. Lyons returned to the table in the back corner. He sat beside Warren rather than across, clearly intent on watching her with Forest.
“Who’s lover boy?” Forest asked.
“Excuse me?”
Forest jutted his chin toward Lyons. “The one who didn’t like me hugging you.”
“Don’t be silly. Lyons is the RT on my team. We’re all a little protective of one another. He’s more like an overprotective brother.”
“Really?” Forest and Lyons seemed engaged in a stare-down. “Because brothers don’t look at their sisters the way he’s looking at you. Not to mention, he’s sizing me up like I’m competition.”
“I seriously doubt he’s sizing you up. Besides, I have a fiancé—one Lyons kind of hates, to be honest.”
“Fiancé?” His brows climbed up his forehead. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”
“Because you’re super busy being all badass; that’s why. I don’t run to you with every little detail of my life.” She’d stopped doing that after she graduated high school and got over a ridiculous crush on the man who’d saved her from hell.
“Why not?”
“Um, because you’re worth, like, a gazillion dollars, manage I don’t know how many billion-dollar companies, and—oh, yeah! I guess you’re now the manager of the most popular rock band in recent history. You’re simply not a man people bother with simple things.”
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