Page 4 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

Chapter Three

Nathaniel

I should have stayed at the Homestead. It would have guaranteed that I stayed in a good mood for my lunch date with Chloe.

Instead, I had gone down to the job site with Blake to check on things.

The grim expression on our superintendent’s face tells us that we aren’t going to like what she has to report. Sweat streaks the dirt on her cheek, a raw edge to the line of her jaw. She smells like steel and work gloves. Old leather and sawdust.

She holds a folded paper, creased and smudged where her thumb presses in too hard. She extends it without a word.

I take the paper, fingers stiff, and unfold it to read the short list it contains .

“Finish nail guns,” I read aloud, voice flat. “Both.”

Blake shifts beside me, arms crossing over his chest.

“Laser level.” My hand tightens on the list. “Orbital sander.” I fold the paper again, and it crumples into my fist. “And the spare charger packs.”

Stillness settles between us, filled with frustration. Blake’s breathing shifts, and his teeth click together once, sharp, but he doesn’t say anything.

I draw in a breath and blow it out through my nose. These things happen on job sites. Workers forget to put things back where they belong, or company tools end up in workers’ bags by accident. But this isn’t the first time things have gone missing in the last week.

“When?” I ask, my voice even.

This is not Emily’s fault. I had hoped that Louie was the culprit, and with his death, the project site would be peaceful again.

“Noticed first thing this morning.” She shoves her hands into her back pockets. “Thought maybe someone moved them for the drywall crew.”

“They didn’t.”

“No. ”

My thumb spins the silver ring on my finger that was left to me by my grandpa to maintain my calm. “Tool crates locked up?”

“Same as every night.” Emily shifts her weight, the gloves clipped to her belt—stiff with yesterday’s grime—swaying. “No signs of a break.”

Blake paces away a few steps, then comes back. “Who was last on site?”

“Briggs,” Emily says. “He and Jonah finished the siding on number four.”

Blake’s hands curl into fists. The knuckles are white where the dust isn’t smeared across them. “And they were supposed to lock up.”

“They said they did.” Emily’s tone doesn’t shift. She’s holding it together. For now.

I peer down toward the job site, where workers mill around. “We’ve got cabinets ready to hang. Can’t do that without a laser.”

“Not unless you want crooked uppers.” Blake runs his hand through his hair, mussing his bun and forcing him to redo it.

The list crinkles in my fist. “And we can’t finish floors until we sand the seams.”

“And we can’t do trim without the nail guns.” The muscle in Emily’s jaw jumps with frustration. She knows the math.

The cost of the tools isn’t what matters. They’re a drop in the overall investment. But the time… We can’t afford to lose that.

I let the silence stretch until it pulls taut. Until it hums in my teeth. Then I shove the crumpled list into my pocket. Dominic will need to file an insurance claim. Even drops add up, so anything he can recoup is worthwhile.

“Figure out what can be done with what we have,” I tell them. “We’ll place an order for replacement tools and have Kyle pick them up. Hopefully, we can still do a solid push after lunch.”

“I’ll start doing an inventory and locking the tool chest myself after everyone’s on the boat,” Emily says. “I’m sorry I let this slip by me.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Keep letting Briggs do it.”

Blake grunts. “Set up a camera? Catch the fucker in action?”

“Or whoever else it is.” I squint from the early morning sun. “Being on an island doesn’t mean no one can sneak over here at night.”

“Fuck.” Blake kicks a rock, and it bounces down the hill.

“I’ll hit the pawn shops around the docks, too.” Emily purses her lips. “Might get lucky.”

“Do it, but keep it on the down low,” I say. “ Don’t want to spook the thief before we have evidence.”

Blake and Emily split off without another word, both heading down to the cabins, boots crunching over gravel.

I watch them while I struggle to calm the thorns of anxiety threatening to hook in and ruin my day.

The missing equipment nags at me, an unsolved equation disrupting the order I strive to maintain.

But this will be fine. Everything will be fine.

With a deep breath, I turn away.

I trudge up the path to the Homestead, my boots scuffing dry needles loose from the earth, the sharp bite of sap clinging to the air.

It’s cool right now, but the clear blue sky promises a beautiful afternoon, perfect for the picnic I have planned.

I rub the back of my neck and roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness that has settled deep between them.

By the time the Homestead comes into view, my hands have stopped clenching.

I thumb the ring on my finger methodically until the tightness in my chest eases enough to breathe.

I veer away from the front entrance and head for the garage.

Dominic should be in the office above it.

We can figure out the cost for the missing tools, and then I will put this matter from my mind until tomorrow.

Lunch with Chloe will come in a couple of hours, and I don’t want to bring the job site’s mess into our afternoon together.

Several hours later, I head out of the garage and into the kitchen through the side door. Warm air carrying the scents of cinnamon and butter wraps around me, and my stomach responds with an embarrassing growl. Good thing I’ll be eating lunch with Chloe soon.

When I come out of the back hallway, I find Holden bustling around in an apron, with flour dusting one cheek.

He gives me a worried look as he packs containers into the picnic basket sitting on the island. “Missing equipment?”

Blake had texted the group chat before I made it back to the house, so I’m not surprised Holden knows.

“Yeah.” I walk over to stand beside him.

A cooling rack on the counter holds perfect, golden cookies, and the pot on the stove bubbles away, filling the air with apples and spices. Cider? It’s a bit warm for it, but I’m sure Holden has plans.

“Nothing too expensive, only a few thousand dollars’ worth, but a big hindrance.” I wash my hands at the sink, the hot water stinging my fingers. “Whoever did it knew what was on the project sheet for the week and what would throw a wrench into our plans.”

Holden frowns, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the counter. “Inside job?”

“Looks like.” The water circles the drain as I dry my hands. “Emily will keep an eye on people today, and we’ll set cameras up once the workers head home. If they try this again, we’ll catch them.”

Holden curses as he rolls utensils into cloth napkins and adds them to the basket. “I’m not sure whether to hope it’s someone on the construction team, or someone sneaking onto the island.”

I understand what he means. Most of the people on our crew have been with us from the start. They’re almost like family. The idea that any of them would betray us… But you never know what’s happening in other people’s lives, what desperations could push them to betray their friends.

“Enough about that.” Holden closes the lid on the basket and tops it with a thin, folded blanket. “One romantic picnic for two, at your service.”

He extends it toward me but doesn’t let go when my fingers close around the handle. “Are you sure a picnic is a good idea?”

“We can’t stay holed up in the Homestead forever,” I say. “And we’ve found no evidence Simon’s returned.”

Holden sighs, and his grip loosens. “I don’t like that the issues at the job site didn’t end with Louie. Don’t wander into areas of the island where you lose your cell phone signal.”

“We’ll stay within range.”

If someone is targeting our business, they might not stop at equipment. And with our Omega, we can never be too cautious.

I hook the basket over my arm and squeeze his shoulder. “Thanks for this.”

His expression softens. “Don’t let the hot chocolate get cold.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I head through the two-way door into the dining room as Chloe bounces down the steps.

One of my quilted jackets engulfs her short frame, the sleeves rolled several times to free her hands, the hem hanging to her knees .

“Right on time,” I say, moving to meet her at the bottom step.

Her fingers play with the zipper of my jacket. “I might have been a little eager to escape work.”

“Then it’s a good thing we had this excursion planned.” I catch her around the waist and bend as she rises on her toes, and our lips meet.

She tastes of strawberry lip balm and mint toothpaste, the combination bringing a rumble of appreciation from me.

This close, her scent envelops my senses, her lilies and lilacs intensifying as she melts into my arms. The pheromones whisper of home and belonging and mine in a language more ancient than words.

I break the kiss before instinct takes over, before the basket drops from my arm and we never leave the Homestead. A pink flush fills her cheeks, bright enough to match her hair, and the Alpha in me preens at the effect my touch has on her.

“I find myself more inspired already,” she whispers, a teasing lilt to her voice.

My hand slides from her back, fingers finding hers. “Let’s go.”

Her fingers tighten around mine in response, and we head outside, my long stride shortening to accommodate her smaller one .

She draws in a deep breath as I steer her down one of the smaller paths, stepping off the gravel and onto hay-covered dirt. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a small alcove down by the western shore I thought you might like.” I take in the way the sunlight plays in her pink hair. “It’s protected from the wind and has a nice view of the water. Sometimes you can spot orcas swimming past.”

Her face brightens with excitement. “I’ve never seen a whale in real life!”