No Mercy (The No Mercy #1)
1. Eva
CHAPTER 1
EVA
Glancing at my watch, I sigh heavily and pick up my tiny voice recorder, pressing the button with more force than necessary.
“ Time is currently 2:38 p.m., Wednesday, November 8, 2024. Target has now been in the gym for… ” I lean forward to check the arrival time I scribbled in my notepad. “ …five hours. Seriously. Five hours.”
Four days. That’s how long I’ve been stuck on this mind numbing job. Four long, agonising days of nothing but sitting in my car, staring at the same set of gym doors. I used to think boredom couldn’t kill you. Turns out, I was wrong, because I am living proof of that.
When Mandy first sold me on the idea of being a private investigator, she made it sound like a dream job.
“It’ll be the best thing you ever did, Eva!” Strike one.
“Your life will never be the same!” Strike two.
One more strike, and she’s dyeing her hair green again. That reaction was worth it last time.
When I was younger, my mother used to be obsessed with PI movies, so yes… I thought I’d be tailing shady business executives or going undercover as some sexy female in hidden clubs. Maybe busting a cheating fiancé mid getaway in Mexico. But no, I’ve not yet earned a free holiday. So here I am, watching a gym like a creep while slowly losing my mind.
I scan the car for something to pass the time. My book? Gone. Snacks? Finished those two hours ago. The iced coffee is still here, though, so there’s that. Hitting play on the stereo, I let Sleep Token’s ‘Take Me Back to Eden’ pour into the silence. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. I tap the steering wheel to the beat, stealing another glance at the gym doors. Nothing.
“I don’t want his workout schedule Eva” I mutter. Repeating Rob's words from yesterday, I need something new otherwise he’s going to rip me a new one. My eyes land on the yellow job folder sitting in the passenger seat. The picture of the target has been taunting me all day as it sits clipped to the front.
“Fine, you convinced me,” I groan, reaching for it. But as soon as I pick it up, the photograph slips out, sliding into the footwell. “Great. Just fucking peachy.” Ignoring the photo for now, I flip through the folder, hoping for new information. But to my surprise nothing new appears.
Carter Ashford
Age: 28 (b. January 12, 1994)
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 190 lbs.
Favourite food: Pepperoni pizza
Occupation: Gym co-owner ( Ashford Gyms )
Parents: Carlos Ashford & Maria Ashford (deceased)
Siblings: Antonio, Axel, Flynn & Gunnar.
My eyes hover over his parents’ names, a pang of sympathy tightening my chest. No one deserves to lose their parents, no matter how old they are. “I know how you feel, buddy,” I whisper, resting my hand on the empty page where their details should be. There’s barely anything here about them, or his brothers. It’s like they don’t exist.
The vibration of my phone jolts me as Mandy’s personalised ringtone blares on full volume. I reach for it quickly, trying to answer before it ends but when I lean forward, my head collides with the dash. “Fucking stupid…” I grumble, rubbing the soon to be golf ball on my forehead.
Answering the call, I put on my most dramatic voice. “Hello, you’ve reached the ‘Welcome to Hell’ helpline. Press one for ‘Devils-R-Us.”Mandy’s laughter bubbles through the phone. “Your day is going well, then?”
“Fantastic. Truly. You should do this tomorrow and see for yourself.”
Mandy was my first friend when I moved to America five years ago. She was looking for a roommate and I was looking for a bed. We’ve been inseparable ever since, like sisters. She even got me this job. And for that, I’ll always be grateful. But right now, I’d happily trade her for a nap.
“Still nothing?” she asks.
“Not a thing. Not even a cheeky McDonald’s trip to break the routine.”
As I complain, movement catches my eye.
Carter stands by the weights, talking to a woman who’s bending over in front of him. Subtle, dude, real subtle. Then someone else approaches him. Carter’s posture stiffens, his head snapping up. I squint, trying to see the direction they’re looking, but the glare from the sun obscures my view.
“Stupid sun,” I mutter, cranking up the heat to combat the sudden chill running through me. Mandy’s voice pulls me back. “-talking about pulling you off the job.”
“What?!” I sit bolt upright, ripping off my eye mask that dried out hours ago. “They’re pulling me off?”
“Looks like it. I’ll give you the details when you’re back.”
Relief floods me. “Mandy, you’re officially my favourite person.”
“You say that like I’m not your only friend,” she teases.
“Oh, hush. I also have Adam.”
We chat for a bit about Love is Blind, but my laughter dies as my gaze drifts back to the gym. Standing just beyond the gym doors is a man. And he is staring straight at me. My phone slips from my hand. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I grab it quickly, fumbling to end the call. “Mandy, gotta go!” My pulse pounds as the man approaches my car stopping at my window the moment I throw my phone next to me. I hold my breath, hoping he’ll just walk on.
Please keep walking, please kee-
No such luck. He knocks, his knuckles sharp against the glass.
You’ve got this, Eva. You’re a badass PI.
Rolling down the window, I force a smile. “Hi. How can I help you?”
He chuckles, low and rough, he has an accent but not the typical Boston one you hear around here. “Maybe I should be asking you that, seeing as you’ve been parked outside my gym all week.” My cheeks burn as I take him in. Tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing blue eyes that seem to pin me in place. His dark brown hair is shaved on the sides, longer on top, and a tattoo snakes up his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt.
“Uh…” I scramble for words. His lips quirk into a smirk, one brow raising as if he can see straight through me. “So?” he asks, his voice carrying a challenge. “What’s it gonna be?” I grip the wheel tighter, my stomach in knots. Think, Eva. Think.
“Architecture,” I blurt out. “I was admiring the architecture.” His brow lifts higher, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Architecture, huh?” His smirk deepens. “Sure. And I’m the mayor of Boston.”
I am so, so screwed.