“What are you doing here?” Raoul asks, still holding Mercs in a firm lock.
“I’m staying here instead of the hotel.” Mercs groans. “Geez… Effa, will you get your goon off me?”
I rush over, placing a hand on Raoul’s arm. “It’s okay, this is Mercs, our new Lighting Director.”
Raoul lets go, and Mercs slumps down onto the counter before slowly rising to his feet, rubbing his shoulder.
“Shit, sorry,” Raoul mutters, raking a hand through his hair. “Thought you were a crazed fan hiding out or something. Can’t be too careful with my girls.”
I give him a half-smile.
Mercs nods, still rotating his shoulder. “It’s fine. I get it. But… what are you doing here?”
They both look at me, waiting.
I grin. “Well, that’s the thing. We’re here for you.”
“We are?” Raoul asks.
“You are?” Mercs echoes.
“Yep. Tank said you might still be around, and I didn’t want you to miss out. Thought maybe you’d want to come back to the party with me?”
Mercs gives a small smirk and turns, strolling back to the sofa. “Nah, I’m not really the party type. But thanks for the offer.”
I huff and throw my hip to the side. “Then at least come back to the hotel. Let me get you a proper bed, something not held together with duct tape and hope.”
He glances around the room. “This works for me.”
I cross the floor and sink into the sofa beside him. The cushion groans under us. This is definitely not built for comfort.
He studies me, brow furrowed. “Why are you sitting down? Shouldn’t you be heading back?”
I shake my head and settle in, crossing my legs. “I’m my own woman. Who needs a VIP party when we can have our own here?”
Mercs’ breath catches, and I realize how that might have sounded.
I raise both hands in mock surrender. “Hold on, cowboy. I didn’t mean that. I just meant… if you’re not going back, then I’m not leaving you alone. Simple.”
He blinks. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m freaking nice, that’s why.” I flash him a cheeky grin.
Mercs looks to Raoul, who’s still hovering near the counter.
“Okay, well… thank you? I guess,” he says, uncertain.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll be in the green room if you need me,” Raoul offers.
“Thanks, Raoul. I appreciate it.”
With a nod, he heads out, leaving the two of us alone.
The air shifts.
It tightens—heavy with something I can’t quite name, like static just before a storm, and my skin prickles.
