Chapter Eleven
MERCS
The Next Day
Last night with Effa was… something else.
Not because it was passionate, unbridled, or wild, though God knows those thoughts haunted me every damn second.
I kept replaying all the things I wanted to do to her.
How I wanted to bend her over to see how flexible that lithe little body of hers could be, take her hard and deep until she shattered under me in wave after wave of pure bliss.
But we didn’t go there.
We kept it in check.
Went back to her room and talked.
Just fucking talked.
We layed on her bed, tangled together, learning about each other without any rush. It was different for me. Not the usual fast-and-filthy hookup I’ve had on the road. Taking it slow with Effa? It felt… right. And for once, I didn’t want to fuck it up by pushing too hard too soon.
I planned to leave when the night wound down, but when it came to it, I couldn’t walk away. The protector in me had kicked in hard, and while I knew no fans were getting past hotel security, I wasn’t willing to take any chances.
Not with her.
Not after what I saw in that club.
Besides, having her curled into me, her sweet, fruity scent in my face, her body pressed back against mine, it wasn’t exactly a hardship. Holding her all night like that was better than any damn fantasy, better than I expected, and I’ve got a vivid imagination.
We talked about the tour—about how things could go sideways if we let this thing between us screw with the dynamic. Luke’s worried, and I get why. But I told Effa straight, ‘I’m not going anywhere. I don’t bail on contracts. I’m not some flaky director who disappears when shit gets complicated.’
Morning came, and I stayed. Room service, laughs, that easy rhythm that just works between us felt all natural. Too natural.
Until Luke showed up and burst the damn bubble, sending us into overdrive.
I knew pack-up days moved fast, but I didn’t expect it to feel like someone hit fast-forward on my life. One minute we were joking in her suite, the next we were shoved onto a minibus with the rest of the crew and carted off to the airport like cattle.
Cue the chaos.
Cue screaming fans.
Cue same frantic energy.
They weren’t just there for a photo opportunity. They wanted a piece of the girls, a touch, a souvenir of the moment. And while I was told to stand back with the rest of the crew, it didn’t sit well. Not with Effa out there. I didn’t like it.
But Raoul and Cooper had her flanked, and I watched closely. Yeah, like a fucking stalker. But I needed to see it with my own eyes.
Not a single hand lay on her.
That’s how it should be.
That’s how it’ll stay.
Once we boarded the band’s private jet, I could finally breathe again.
The flight from Phoenix to Denver took an hour and forty-five minutes, and I had the seat next to Effa the whole time.
Quiet conversations and easy smiles made the whole madness of the morning worth it.
But as soon as we arrived at Red Rocks Park and Amphitheatre, it was time to get my head back in the game.
Work mode—on.
The stage setup here is just under half the size we usually work with, and the lighting is minimalistic at best. Still, it’s not about the flash tonight.
This show’s being filmed for a charity, with every cent going to Rosalie House, a women’s shelter.
Apparently, Luminous has a strong connection to it through their old tourmates, Recoil.
Their bassist, Matt, and his wife are heavily involved in the foundation, and it clearly means something to the girls.
I respect the hell out of that.
Helping women in crisis? Yeah, that’s something worth setting the spotlight on.
Right now, I’m standing near the back of the amphitheater, waiting for Effa and the girls to come on.
The night sky above is a masterpiece, with stars scattered like glitter across fractured cliffs and deep red rock formations.
There’s something otherworldly about this place, and I get why people feel connected to it.
The spiritual energy is real, and it suits Effa to a T.
The venue’s packed.
The pre-show hum of voices echoes across the open air, full of excitement and just plain good energy. It’s alive out here, buzzing, and I know Effa’s going to dominate this stage. She was born to.
Soft pre-show music drifts from the overhead speakers.
It’s almost time.
I’m posted backstage, tucked behind a rock ledge with a clear view up toward the back of the platform.
Not visible to the crowd, but close enough to jump in if something goes sideways.
Lighting’s all preprogrammed to track with each song.
Tank and I just have to fire it up. Smooth, digital, automated, you have got to love modern technology when it works.
Tank plops down beside me on the red rock, exhaling loudly like a man who’s way too pleased with himself. One look at that smug grin, and I know I should keep my mouth shut.
But I don’t.
“That’s one hell of a grin, Tank,” I mutter, glancing at him.
He chuckles. “It’s fucking sweet being Andi’s hookup. She might be a raging grump, but damn… when she channels that energy into sex? Total spitfire. Her mouth—”
“Okay, Jesus, no.” I cut him off, holding up a hand. “That’s more than enough detail, thanks.”
He snorts and cracks his neck, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Heard you stayed with Effa last night. How’d that go?”
I don’t look at him as I check the timing sequence on the lighting triggers. “Nothing like what you’re thinking. We just talked.”
He whistles low. “You didn’t make a move? Can’t get it up, or what?”
I stop flipping switches and give him a slow look. “We have an understanding.”
Tank raises both brows. “You’re serious? You’ve got that blonde bombshell curled up in bed with you, and you’re playing monk?”
“Don’t mistake restraint for weakness.” I glance at him pointedly. “I want her, but on her terms. And yeah, mine too.”
He shakes his head like I’ve grown another one. “Man, I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried.”
Before I can react, he reaches between my legs and grabs my junk through my jeans.
I slap his hand away, shooting him a death glare as his deep, obnoxious laugh booms across the rock wall behind us.
“Easy, tiger,” he says through his laughter. “Just checking you still had your cock and balls. Was starting to wonder if they shriveled up and dropped off.”
I shove his shoulder hard. “Fuck you! For the record, everything’s in perfect working order. We’re just not rushing it.”
He smirks. “Effa? Taking it slow? Shit, what timeline are we living in? Either you’re a magician, or she’s completely turned off and doesn’t want to crush your fragile ego.”
I narrow my eyes. “She’s cautious. She’s worried that if things go south, I’ll walk off the tour. What she doesn’t get yet is that I don’t do that. I finish what I start. Contract or not.”
His grin fades a little at the tone in my voice, and I know he hears it.
The finality.
The conviction.
Because when it comes to Effa, I am not screwing around.
He stops laughing, and for once, his expression turns serious.
“Wow! She’s actually thinking logically. If Effa’s talking like that, then yeah, she’s into you. And not just for your cock. You’re the first guy… hell… the only guy, I’ve seen catch her eye emotionally in the two years I’ve been on this tour. Every other dude’s just been a warm body. Convenience.”
I don’t know why that hits me the way it does, but it lands deep. Maybe because I like knowing I’m not just another crew fling to her. I’ve got her attention, and not because I can work a rig and lift heavy shit. She sees me.
“Fuck, man, you’re smiling like a damn Cheshire cat,” Tank says, narrowing one eye. “Anyone would think you like her too.”
“I do.” I shrug, unapologetic. “She’s a little quirky with all her hippy energy talk, but there’s something about it…
about her. She actually gives a damn about people, about the world, about her music.
That kind of depth? It’s rare as hell in this business.
She’s got a fire in her that I don’t see often.
I like her. And I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes. ”
Tank grips my shoulder, and his tone shifts from teasing to a rare dose of seriousness. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you two to bump uglies and make sweet-ass love songs together. But fair warning, if you hurt her, I’ll be the first to knock your ass out.”
I nod once. “I respect that, but it’s early days. Don’t go booking a venue and hiring flower girls just yet. We’re not official. We’re feeling things out. But I’m not here to mess her around.”
Tank closes his eyes dramatically and lifts both hands into the air like he’s summoning the spirits. “I sense… happiness in your future. A wedding fit for a rock star. And babies… lots and lots of babies.”
I smack his hands away, laughing. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Hey, don’t knock it. Isn’t that what your girl does? Taps into people’s energy and sees the future? I was channeling my inner Effa.” He smirks like a damn lunatic.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the amused grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. The guy’s annoying as shit, but he is loyal.
Before I can respond, movement to my left catches my eye.
The girls are being escorted toward the stage.
I push off the rock and move into position, fingers flying over the digital board to cue the lighting sequence. The first set triggers, the lights dim, and the crowd erupts like a wave crashing into the cliffs around us.
Then I see her.
Effa.
She’s changed out of her usual leather and boots. Tonight, she’s in flats and wearing a long, flowing summer dress that dances with the breeze. Her hair’s down, soft and wavy, glowing under the ambient lights, and a white floral headband crowns her head.
This woman looks ethereal.
Like she doesn’t belong in the chaos of this world, but came here anyway to shake it up.