Chapter Nineteen
MERCS
Effa climbs down from the rafters, and I reach up, grabbing hold of her ass. It’s a temptation I can’t resist. Her soft giggle echoes through the backstage area, and I smirk as her feet hit the floor, which regrettably forces my hands to fall away from her.
She spins with a wicked smile. “Thank you for showing me your view of the world. I had a…” a huge smile forms on her face, “… great time.” Her voice is laced with playful sarcasm.
I chuckle, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into me as my gaze flicks toward Jett. He’s moving, slowly but deliberately, heading straight for us.
Great.
“Hey, Eff, can you get that shower ready for us? I want to have a quick word with someone about lighting for tonight,” I lie.
She smiles, oblivious, then leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek before rushing toward the stadium bathroom.
Clenching my jaw, I pivot just in time to see Jett stalking toward me, his body tight, his jaw clenched. He’s pissed. Well, fuck him. He has no rights. I’m not the damn voyeur here.
He steps in close, too close, and the stench of stale tobacco hits me in the face as he stares me down, clearly trying to intimidate me. I hold my ground and shove him hard in the chest, forcing him back a step. He breaks into a dry laugh, shaking his head as he straightens up.
“What the fuck, asshole? Why were you watching us?” I sneer.
His smug expression fades, replaced with a scowl that twists his face. “You have no right to be taking advantage of her,” he bites out.
“Advantage? Oh, this should be good. Please, enlighten me. How exactly am I taking advantage of Effa?”
“She’s young. Easily led. A guy like you will corrupt her. You think I don’t know about your money issues, Mercury? Your sister and her health problems? She’s bleeding you dry. You’re after Effa for what she can give you. You don’t want her. You want her pretty little purse—”
That’s it.
My whole body tenses.
Muscles are locking up as I wrestle with the urge to smash his smug face into the middle of next week.
“Fuck you, Jett. Don’t you dare bring my sister into this. You don’t know shit about me or my life, so don’t pretend you’ve got me figured out. As for Effa? She means the world to me. I’d never hurt her. Unlike you.”
I step forward, my voice low and lethal.
“You think I’m using her? You’re the one who’s desperate to latch onto her coattails to revive your flatlining career.
You’re the leech here. Stay the fuck away from Effa and me, or I swear, I’ll make sure you choke on your own damn teeth.
She’s mine. Not yours. Not now. Not ever. ”
His nostrils flare, his body trembling with rage. The air between us shifts to arctic, charged with something palpable. We stand toe to toe, one spark away from throwing down. My fists curl tight, jaw locked, the tension between us is thick enough to slice through.
He wants her.
But I have her.
And if I’m not careful, this cocky bastard could cause real damage. He’s got power, influence, and a reputation I don’t yet have. One misstep and I could lose everything.
My job.
My name…
… Effa.
I’ve got to be smart.
Strategic.
But I’m not backing the fuck down either.
His eyes bore into mine, black and hollow, like there’s no soul left in him, only contempt and an attempt at fury. He takes a step closer, and our noses nearly touch.
I raise my chin slightly, fists ready to fly.
Then…
The sound of footsteps. Heavy and rushing.
Before either of us can throw a punch, we’re yanked apart.
“Hey, hey, hey… cool it,” Luke’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “I don’t know what that intense-as-fuck stare-down was about, but I don’t need my lighting director and the lead singer of the opening band brawling before the damn show. Got it!”
I glance over at Luke, his glare sharp and heavy, like a disappointed father. I’ve worked my ass off to stay on Luke’s good side, and now I’m standing here ready to throw punches like a fucking kid.
Great! Real professional, Mercs.
Jett scoffs, throwing me a smug look. “Tell lover boy to stop fucking in public, and maybe we wouldn’t have this problem,” he mutters, slamming his shoulder into mine while brushing past me.
I take a step back, biting down hard on my molars as Luke narrows his eyes.
“Care to explain what Jett’s talking about?” he asks.
I crack my neck to the side. “He saw Effa and me… together. He’s jealous. He has an agenda, Luke. He’s going to cause trouble.”
Luke hums, watching me closely. “Where did he see you?”
Shit.
I glance up, and Luke follows my gaze.
“The rafters,” I admit.
He exhales a quiet snort, raising an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not ideal, but it’s better than somewhere public where cameras could’ve caught it. Mercs, keep this shit private. No leaks. No photos. I don’t want Effa plastered all over Rolling Stone or some trash rag.”
“Yeah, I get it. It was spontaneous. It won’t happen again…” I pause. “But Luke, I’m telling you, Jett’s a fucking problem.”
He nods slowly. “You’re not wrong. I’ve noticed things too… him watching her, and the lurking. Other crew members have raised concerns. You’re not alone in this. Leave it with me.”
Relief hits me, but I don’t show it. “Effa’s safety comes first. I don’t trust him.”
Luke places a firm hand on my shoulder. “I know you care about her. That means something. But Mercs, Effa’s tough, sure. Confident, yes. But she’s also na?ve. Watch her.”
I nod once, solid and firm.
Turning, I walk off toward the bathroom where Effa’s waiting.
I consider telling her what just went down, but I don’t think she’d want to hear about this.
She’s not into this alpha bullshit. She’s all peace, harmony, and love.
Right now, I’m not sure she’d appreciate knowing how close I came to nearly punching that ass.
So for now, I’ll keep it to myself.
Maybe it’ll bite me in the ass.
Time will tell.
EFFA
We’re about ready to head out for the concert, but I forgot my lucky pick in the green room. So now I’m racing back there, minutes before I’m supposed to be on stage. Swift Division just finished their set, and it’s the changeover period, so I need to haul ass.
As I reach the hallway near the green room, Luke’s voice carries down the corridor, sharp and clear, laced with authority. I skid to a halt just outside the door, not wanting to interrupt something serious.
“You need to ensure that at all costs, Jett is kept away from Effa,” Luke says firmly.
My brows pinch as my eyes widen.
What the actual hell?
I peek around the corner and step into the room to find Luke talking to Raoul. Both of them turn toward me as if I have just walked into a crime scene.
“Effa, you need to be getting ready,” Luke says, already shooing me with his hands like I’m a stray dog nosing around where I shouldn’t.
I fold my arms, digging my heels in. “What the hell are you guys talking about?”
“General business,” Luke says, brushing me off. “Nothing for you to worry about. Go on, Effa.”
Oh, hell no.
He can’t shoo me off that easily.
I glance at Raoul, who’s standing there grimacing like he’d rather be anywhere else, then back at Luke with narrowed eyes. “Luke, I’m not stupid. You were discussing Jett and me. Why?”
Luke exhales loudly, clearly annoyed, but steps up to explain. “Look, people are starting to notice that Jett’s attention toward you is becoming a little, well, concerning. There’s been some tension with him and the crew too. So I want Raoul to keep a buffer between the two of you.”
I snort, crossing my arms tighter, letting out a half-laugh. “You’re kidding, right? The guy’s a little weird, sure, but this doesn’t sound logical. We’re all working the same tour. What happens if we need to talk shop? Separating us is only going to make things harder for him and me to an extent.”
Luke doesn’t budge. “Effa, we don’t trust him alone with you.”
That hits differently.
My jaw tightens as I process the weight of his words. “Okay… well… if you’re really that worried, then fine. Have Raoul watch me. He does that already anyway. And if Jett does anything shady when we’re together…” I glance at Raoul and grin, “… then Raoul can judo chop his ass.”
For a second, Raoul actually smirks—it’s his version of a full-on belly laugh.
Luke glances at him for confirmation. “What do you think, Raoul? Can you trail her? Keep an eye out?”
Raoul nods, calm and composed. “Of course. If Jett becomes a hassle, I will, indeed, judo chop his ass.”
I laugh, giving him two thumbs up, feeling oddly reassured. Raoul rarely shows any emotion, but I’ll take it.
Luke rolls his eyes and grabs my shoulders, spinning me toward the door. “Now go. You’re about to hold up the show.”
He gives me a gentle shove, and I take off, only to slam on the brakes halfway out the door. Spinning back, I dart to the desk, snag my lucky pick, flash the guys a big grin, and bolt like a lightning strike back down the corridor toward the stage.
Still, there’s a little voice in the back of my head that won’t shut up.
Did I just make the right call?
Because if we’re suddenly keeping Jett at arm’s length, that’s only going to stir the hornet’s nest. He’s the type who doesn’t like being boxed out, and if this makes him feel like he’s being frozen out completely, he’ll lash back.
But this is the smart move.
The safe one.
I just hope Mercs sees it that way.
Two Weeks Later
We’ve finally landed in Pennsylvania—Mercs’ hometown. While we’re playing two nights in Pittsburgh, we’re staying for four days, and for the first two, we’re heading to Ligonier to see his gran and sister, Kiera.
Since friending Kiera two weeks ago, we’ve been chatting a bit online. She’s intelligent, charming, sweet, and everything I expected from an eighteen-year-old. She’s also whip-smart and funny, which honestly makes me even more nervous about meeting her in person.
I reach over and squeeze Mercs’ hand, glancing at his face as he smiles. “You excited?”