Page 18 of Knot Going Down (OlympicVerse #3)

DECLAN

I wasn’t planning on having breakfast with a man I hate and a man I don’t know. But Emily’s still not back, so I’m left at a table with only Knox and Lucas for company.

“So, we getting food or not?” Knox says, eyeing the buffet.

“We should wait for Emily.” I take a sip of water.

“She told us to eat,” Lucas points out. “It has been some time. Perhaps she decided to stay with Ava. We can bring food back for both of them.”

“That’s a great idea.” Knox snaps his fingers. “Let’s fuel up, then get our girls some treats.”

“We could also take our food to go,” I suggest.

“Then we can’t get seconds.” Knox claps me on the back as he stands up. The man has gotten way too comfortable since getting those handcuffs off.

Normally I’d push back, but I’m starving.

And Ava seemed like she wanted some space from all the testosterone and alpha pheromones.

The woman has been as jumpy as a feral cat, especially around me and Knox.

Most betas are a little hesitant around alphas, but there’s a higher percentage of alphas among Olympic athletes, so she should be used to it.

I’m usually pretty good at reading people, but Ava confuses me. One moment she comes off as cocky, arrogant, and fake. The next she’s skittish and looks ready to bolt.

“Fine.” I stand. “We’ll eat first. Then take food back to the room.”

The cruise ship buffet is less a meal and more an all-you-can-eat fever dream.

It stretches across the deck like a glittering food carnival, with stations that seem to multiply when you’re not looking.

There’s a suspiciously enthusiastic omelet guy flipping eggs like he’s on a cooking show, a fruit display that looks like it was carved by angels—or very bored chefs—and a dessert table that could probably be classified as a religious experience.

People roam the offerings with the focus of hunters and the plates of overachievers, stacking shrimp cocktails next to fluffy waffles like it’s completely normal.

I guess, here, it is. While I scoop scrambled egg whites onto my dish beside my bowl of oatmeal, a woman bumps into me holding a plate with only pink pudding and bacon.

It’s chaotic, glorious, and mildly dangerous for the ship’s plumbing .

By the time I make it back to the table, Lucas and Knox are already there.

Lucas has a ham and spinach omelet with crispy hash brown and a bowl of stunningly beautiful melon.

Knox has a dish of the mysterious pink pudding beside a tower of waffles drizzled with a metric ton of syrup and a mountain of berries.

At least the asshole has a bowl of sausage links, too.

Hopefully the protein intake will keep him from pissing me off too much when his sugar high crashes.

Before digging in, Knox drops his head and stays silent for a minute. Is he praying? Wouldn’t have guessed that. He doesn’t give off the religious vibe. Maybe it’s a ritual he has before eating. Mindful intuitive eating maybe?

Knox’s thumb trails over the beaded bracelet he wears wrapped around his wrist. About a minute passes, then he looks up and goes about eating normally.

I want to ask him about it, but I don’t think he’d answer me honestly.

The man is antagonistic to a fault. Guess I’m not much better, though, if I’m honest. Something about him brings out the alpha in me, makes me want to subdue and dominate him.

A brief flash of an image fills my mind.

A true domination. Knox on his knees. My hands yanking his hair as I slam my cock down his throat.

Fucking brain. I don’t want to subdue him that way. I want to lock him up and make him pay for his association with Glenn, for the life he leads that puts others in danger. But I’ll settle for using him to get to the real villain.

Maybe punish him a bit along the way.

“What’s got your forehead all wrinkly, DEA?” Knox says through a mouthful of waffles.

“Just thinking about how good it would feel to choke you,” I say without thinking. Fuck. I meant that as a jab, not a sexual innuendo.

But, of course, Knox latches on and doesn’t let it go. His eyebrows lift suggestively. “Is that what you’re into? Does Ly know that?”

“Lee?”

“Emily.” He looks quickly away, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “She’s not exactly the choking type.”

“You know nothing about what type she is.”

“I know more than you think,” he retorts, but I won’t take the bait. Antagonistic prick.

“So,” Lucas cuts in, his tan cheeks have the slightest pink hue to them that wasn’t there before. “What is the plan for today? We never made it to limbo last night.”

He gives Knox a crooked smile that makes me feel like I’m missing something.

It also makes me want to yank his chin back in my direction so he only gives that smile to me.

Huh, maybe I’m the asshole. I’ve always been a jealous fucker, but this is next level.

I don’t even know Lucas. But I haven’t been able to get that peach bellini scent out of my nose since I woke up this morning with the worst morning wood of my life.

He may be a beta, but that scent is more potent than most.

“Perhaps we can find some other way to compete?” Lucas continues. “An outlet for all this…” Rather than finish the sentence, he waves a hand between Knox and me.

“Personally, I like the idea of spending the day by the pool,” Knox says. “Emily looks damn good in a swimsuit, and I bet Ava looks like a fucking movie star in a two-piece.”

“How do you know what Emily looks like in a swimsuit?” I barely stop myself from growling.

Knox laughs, pointing his fork at me. “She’s an Olympic diver. More than half the world’s seen her in a swimsuit.”

But there’s something in his expression that makes my fists clench under the table. I didn’t get my position at the DEA by being terrible at reading people, and my gut tells me there’s at least some kind of history between Knox and Emily that I don’t know shit about.

But I’m acting like a fucking teenager. All riled up. This isn't like me. I’m usually the calm one. Three deep breaths, and I remind myself to be patient. If it’s something I need to know, Emily will tell me. Eventually.

I won’t let this guy goad me into some kind of fight over the woman I’m falling for. Whatever their history, she’s with me now. Not him.

A slow smile crawls up my face.

Lucas clears his throat. “Since I have finished, I will get Emily and Ava a plate. Anything particular they like?”

I haven’t known either woman long enough to know their food preferences, and something about that bothers me. Do they prefer sweet or savory or a little of both? If I had to guess, I’d say Emily has a sweet tooth and Ava likes something meaty she can rip into. But who knows.

“Get a little of everything so they can sample,” I suggest.

“But no melon,” Knox adds. “It makes Ly’s tongue itch. And she doesn’t like mushrooms.”

That confirms every suspicion I’ve had. Knowing your buyer’s best friend’s food preferences seems outside the job description.

The gruff growl bursts out of me before I can stop it.

Knox smirks, keeping his eyes on me. “She also prefers sweet things in the morning. I do too.” There’s a subtle innuendo in the way he says it that makes me want to stuff my napkin in his mouth to shut him up.

“She’s a maniac about cereal. Corn flakes.

Granola. Breakfast parfaits. That sort of thing.

Obsessed with fresh berries, too. Especially blackberries.

She could eat a bushel of them on her own if someone let her. ”

“And Ava?” Lucas asks, standing beside the table.

Knox wrinkles his brows, and his gaze flicks up to the beta with a shrug. “Wish I knew.”

I’m surprised to find that I do too. Ava’s…

hard to read. She’s been clingy with Emily, snippy with the rest of us.

But there’s something about her that has me curious to know what she’s like when she’s not perfectly put together.

The woman is gorgeous, but that’s not what has me intrigued.

Physical beauty fades, and lots of pretty faces have shit personalities.

But Ava strikes a different nerve in me.

In the roughly twenty-four hours since I met her, I’ve noticed her distance from others might not be disdain, the way she tries to make it appear.

It seems to me that it’s more of a protective habit, or like the rhythms of small talk aren't second nature to her despite the polished exterior she presents.

Lucas leaves the table, and Knox and I finish our food in tense silence. I almost ask him what the deal is with him and Emily, but I keep my mouth shut. It’s not like he’d give me a straight answer. He’d probably just use my question against me. Irritating asshole.

Pushing away my empty plate, I lean my forearms on the table. “We need a plan for when we get back to the States. I’d like to trust you enough to let you interact with Glenn without supervision so we don’t raise suspicion, but so far, you’ve done nothing to earn that.”

“Well, sorry, buddy, but you can’t tag along with me to meet Glenn or snoop around his house.”

“No, but I’m assuming you get a plus one for the wedding?”

“You wanna be my date?” His lazy grin makes me want to throttle him.

“Fuck, no. But it’s the only way I can think of to get close to Glenn without raising suspicion.” I set my napkin on the empty plate in front of me. “The wedding’s at his house, right?”

Knox nods as he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, putting his Mercy tattoo on display.

“Good. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for me to get in, copy his computer files, and hopefully find something incriminating enough to put the bastard away for life.”

“You think a laptop full of evidence will just be chilling on an end table next to the crab cakes during cocktail hour?”

“I’ve got to try something.”

Knox narrows his eyes at me. “You really hate him. Why?”

I stand up. There’s no way I’m answering that question. I don’t owe Knox anything, especially not my history with Glenn.

“You can be my date to the wedding,” he taps the table with the bottom of his spoon, “but just so you know, I’m high maintenance.

I expect compliments, emotional availability, and a solid cake-to-champagne ratio.

And if you expect me to let you lead on the dance floor…

” Knox dips his spoon into the mystery pink pudding, gives it an exaggeratedly slow seductive lick, then makes a dramatic lunge for his Bloody Mary like the substance personally offended him, completely ruining the use of his bedroom eyes.

I snort, despite myself. The bastard's impossible to take seriously. I wonder how he even got involved with a guy like Glenn. Not that it matters.

My amusement fades as Lucas rejoins us holding two plates piled full of food. His smile is simple and easily earned, a little like Emily. But unlike Emily, there’s nothing innocent in the way Lucas’s gaze rakes over my body as he hands me one of the plates.

“Ready?” he asks.

I kick Knox’s chair. “Let’s go.”

“But I’m not finished.” Knox shoves another bite of waffle into his mouth. Is that his fourth or fifth?

I lean over his chair. “You stay glued to my side, remember? So get up. I’m leaving.”

Knox grumbles, but grabs the rest of his waffle with his hands and snacks on it the whole way back to the room.