Page 17 of No Mistakes (No Mercy #2)

MANDY

The living room is a damn war zone of half-empty coffee cups, scribbled notes, and tired men in sweatpants who look like they haven’t slept in days.

Ant is still at the table, his fingers flying across the keyboard like he’s hacking into the Pentagon, while the others linger in a half circle around the whiteboard.

I step into the living room carefully, while I try and juggle a fresh coffee pot in one hand and my phone in the other

“Brought reinforcements,” I say, lifting the coffee like a peace offering.

Flynn grunts his approval while Gunnar practically lunges for a refill.

Ant doesn’t look up, but his hand blindly reaches for the cup I set beside him, his fingers grazing mine in a blink-fast touch that sends a flicker of heat up my spine.

Goddamn. Why does that feel like foreplay?

I turn to Eva, who’s curled up on the corner of the sofa, wide-eyed and clearly still trying to process everything Axel dumped on her in the last few hours.

“I called Rob,” I say gently. “He wasn’t too pleased that I called him so early, but I told him we need at least a week away from the office to work on a lead. He didn’t argue.” I pause, giving her a look. “I think he knows something’s off, even if he won’t say it.”

Eva nods, lips pressed tight. She hasn’t said much since the Ashford brothers informed us of their little interrogation meeting, and to be honest, I can’t blame her.

I glance back towards the table to see Ant’s shoulders tense slightly before I hear a click. The kind that means whatever he’s been digging through just gave him exactly what he was looking for. He sits back slowly, gaze fixed on the screen, and everyone stops talking.

“You got something?” Axel asks, moving to stand behind him. Ant nods, tapping the spacebar.

The monitor floods with new images, new folders, spreadsheets, and so much more.

I step closer, the glow of the screen painting Ant’s face in shadow and light. A folder catches my eye as it sits by itself in the middle of the screen.

‘Las Vegas Buyers Meeting’

“Is that-” I start, pointing toward it over Ant’s shoulder, my voice rasping out before I can finish. The folder name alone makes my skin crawl.

The moment the brothers explained the exchange of women happening across Chicago, something inside of me cracked. But this? A meeting . An actual scheduled event for it? That’s a different kind of evil.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for hearing about what happens behind those closed doors. What people do to the girls, the way you’re moved, priced, sold.

Ant clicks the folder open, and an avalanche of photos appears, taking over the screen. Girls of all ages, some bruised, vacant-eyed… all of them dehumanised in one way or another. Every single photo stares back at us from a grainy surveillance and my stomach clenches.

He clicks something else, and a spreadsheet appears, replacing the images. Rows and columns laid out like a fucking shopping list.

Age. Origin. Condition. Obedience rating.

Price.

The fucking price .

I grip the back of Ant’s chair to steady myself, my other hand tightening around the now lukewarm coffee mug I forgot I was holding.

“Jesus,” I whisper.

Names blur together with the numbers until I spot something else. A document titled LV-CONFIRMED-VIP.XLSX sits near the bottom of the file tree. Ant opens it without hesitation, and there it is.

Meeting Location: Bellagio, Las Vegas

Date: December 21st

Time: 11:00 PM

My mouth goes dry as I check today’s date to see it’s now December 15th. “That’s in less than a week,” I whisper, stepping closer to keep my eyes locked on the screen.

Axel walks towards the whiteboard, adding the time and date to the ever-growing list of information. “We’ll handle it.”

I turn, slowly placing the mug down on the table before it shatters in my grip. “We?” My voice comes out calm. “ We will handle it?”

Axel narrows his eyes. “You’re not going to that meeting, Mandy.”

I take a step forward. “Like hell I’m not.”

“You think I’m letting both of you walk into the centre of a sex trafficking exchange?” His voice rises with every word. “Do you have any fucking idea what they do in those places? What they’d do to you if something went wrong?”

“I know exactly what happens,” I snap, jabbing a finger at the screen. “I’ve seen it. Heard it. Lived it through the girls I’ve tried to save in the past. You want to sit here and play protective big brother, go for it. But don’t pretend I’m some glass doll who doesn’t know what’s at stake.”

“Protective?” Axel steps forward now, too, his voice a dark growl.

“You want to call it that? Fine . I’ll wear it.

I’m protective because I’ve seen what this business does to women like you.

They don’t just hurt them, Mandy. They break them.

They strip them down until there’s nothing left.

And I’m not letting that happen to someone I-” He cuts himself off, jaw clenching.

I scoff. “To someone you what , Axel? Lied to?”

Eva stands in the corner like she wants to step in, but she knows better than to get between me and a storm.

“I’m going,” I say, “And if you think you’re going to stop me, you’ve forgotten who the fuck I am.”

“Mandy-” Eva starts, but I don’t wait to hear what she has to say. I turn on my heel and storm toward the hallway, the sound of my boots echoing like gunshots through the tension-filled room.

I make it to the guest room, the one I was taken from and slam the door behind me. The adrenaline still pulses through me, bitter and alive. I’m shaking, furious , scared out of my mind for all of those women, but I meant every word.

I press my back to the door and exhale hard, trying to stop the burn behind my eyes. A soft knock comes a moment later, but no one speaks. Just one quiet knock.

Ant.

I don’t need to see him to know. I feel him. I feel his presence like gravity pulling me back to something solid.

I turn the doorknob slowly, opening the door just enough for him to slip inside before closing it quietly behind him. The silence between us is thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

He leans back against the door, his eyes dragging over me like he’s taking a mental note of every emotion I’m trying to hide, and it makes the air around me feel too hot.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, arms crossed, even though I’m anything but.

He tilts his head, those sharp eyes narrowing like he’s calling bullshit without a word. He doesn’t need to speak. He never has to speak for me to understand exactly what he’s thinking.

My pulse stutters when he pushes off the door and walks toward me. Slow, deliberate steps. He stops just short of touching me, like he’s daring me to close the distance.

“You don’t get to look at me like that,” I breathe.

His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering for a fraction too long before flicking back up to my eyes. I swear he smirks. Not a lot, but enough to make me notice.

I feel the air shift when he lifts a hand, but he doesn’t touch me. Just hovers his fingers over the curve of my jaw, the ghost of contact enough to make my knees weak.

“You’re not saying anything.”

He lifts one brow as if to say, Do I need to?

“No. That’s the problem.” I say, my voice catching.

He steps in closer, and the smell of his aftershave takes over me, it’s the type of smell that makes you swoon, and boy, does it make me fucking swoon.

He keeps walking forward until my back finds the wall.

His hands press flat against it on either side of my head, caging me in with nothing but his body and that deadly stare.

I swallow hard, “You trying to intimidate me?” I whisper.

He leans down, mouth near my ear. Close enough that I feel the heat of his breath, but not a single brush of skin.

No.

The word doesn’t need any sound. It’s in his eyes, in the way his body angles just enough to let me feel the power coiled inside him.

My breath comes out shallow, my pulse hammering in my throat.

I should shove him away. I could move his arm and step around him but I don’t.

Instead, I look straight into his eyes. “This is dangerous,” I whisper.

He doesn’t flinch. Just leans in a fraction more, eyes searching mine with something fierce before pulling away.

He turns like he’s about to walk away without a single look back, instantly pissing me off.

“ Don’t you dare,” I snap, my voice low and shaking. “Don’t walk away from me.”

He stops, but he doesn’t look at me. I march across the room and grab his arm, forcing him to face me. His chest rises and falls like he’s barely holding it together, fighting the same restraint I had in the parking lot.

My fingers fist the front of his hoodie as I shove him, daring him to react, but he doesn’t budge.

We stand there, facing each other, our eyes locked, until a small growl comes from him, a sound I’ve been waiting for.

He moves fast, backing me up against the wall once again, swallowing the air between us.

He pins me with his stare, and I break. My thigh lifts to hook around his hip, needing friction, pressure, something .

He grabs it roughly and lifts it higher, pinning it to his side.

My breath punches out of me as he presses in, the hardness of him clear even through those beautiful grey joggers.

I look down, seeing the bulge of his cock pressing firmly against me.

“ Fuck, ” I whisper, my eyes widening from the size, how the hell is that humanly possible?

He grabs my chin, forcing my head up to look at him, while pulling me closer.

He moves his hand, skimming my waist, his touch hot, even through my clothes.

He slowly lowers it, running it across the front of my cotton shorts before cupping me with one firm hand between my legs.

His fingers start to move, rubbing me through the fabric in tight, deliberate circles.

My head drops back against the wall, mouth falling open.

It’s too much and not enough at the same time. The pressure, the precision, the way he watches me fall apart.

I gasp his name, and that’s all it takes for him to double down.

Two fingers press harder, dragging over the seam in a way that makes my legs shake.

His other hand pins my hip, keeping me in place as I grind into him.

His cock presses against me, begging to be released.

I move my hand, reaching towards the band on his joggers, the need to touch him growing, but he grabs my wrist, placing it between his hand and my thigh.

He speeds up his movements, manoeuvring his fingers underneath my shorts to feel the wetness of my pussy.

My other hand grips his shoulder, my nails digging into his clothes, trying to find their way to his skin.

I lift my head and look at him, to see his eyes burn into mine as they darken.

The coil keeping me together snaps too fast, and I cry out as he rubs my clit perfectly.

Not too much pressure, but in small movements, never letting up.

He presses closer. I press my face into his hoodie, my pleasure being muffled by the fabric as I fall apart.

He holds me tightly, waiting until the tremors in my thighs stop and my chest slows down.

He brushes it one last time, causing me to gasp before dropping my leg slowly, like he’s reluctant to let go.

Taking a step back, he lifts his fingers, licking them, but his eyes stay locked on mine like he owns every breath I take, before winking at me.

He turns, walking towards the door without a second glance, leaving me trembling, wrecked… and craving more.

“Bastard,” I whisper to myself once the door shuts, and again, I’m left wondering what the fuck is going on between us.