Page 19 of Knot Going Down (OlympicVerse #3)
KNOX
T he pool deck glows under the lazy morning sun, all shimmering water and slow-moving shadows. Ladies lounge in string bikinis beneath wide-brimmed hats, half-asleep with cold drinks sweating on side tables, but my focus is only on The One That Got Away.
What I told Emily last night wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either.
We drifted apart because we were too different, because I didn’t want to pull her into my darkness and my problems, but I was a selfish bastard, and I would have done it if it weren’t for her brother.
Dude knocked some sense into my brainless, seventeen-year-old, sex-driven self.
I need to remember that.
Cause not much has changed since then. I’m still an asshole with a dark side, still involved in things Emily shouldn’t be anywhere near.
But fuck, she does it for me.
And if the looks she’s casting my way from where she’s floating with Ava in the pool are anything to go off of, I still do it for her, too.
The two of them look good together. Really good.
They’re squeezed into a single donut inner tube, heads close together like they’re telling secrets.
Girl World is a stunning place to witness.
Ava gives Emily a look that’s softer than anything else I’ve seen from her. Her gaze drops to Emily’s lips, and I find myself holding my breath.
My dick twitches, and I change positions to try to keep my growing erection from being detected by Mr. DEA, who is stretched out on the lounger next to mine.
He’s reading a book, a romance with a shirtless guy on the front that I tried teasing him about, but he was completely unamused and unashamed.
I respect that boldness. Declan isn’t the kind of guy to feel shame or the need to explain himself to anyone.
He’s only half reading, though. His eyes are on the two women in the pool as much as the page.
And when I move, his gaze shoots in my direction.
He’s like a fucking hawk. Always alert. It’d probably take him less than ten seconds to have me handcuffed again if he thought I was about to try anything.
Shit, now my dick is definitely hard. What’s wrong with my messed up brain that the thought of being restrained by this guy and hate fucked is a turn on?
I need a drink.
“Want anything from the bar?” I stand up and adjust myself as discreetly as I can, trying to will the blood to flow back to my brain.
“You’re not going to the bar.”
“It’s either that or go full rut on the pretty betas in the pool.”
The scent of sunscreen hangs in the salty air, mingling with the ocean breeze and Declan’s potent woodsy smell. The contrast is surprisingly nice, but I find myself wishing for the peach bellini that might tie it all together. Sadly, Lucas opted for a workout instead of swimming.
Mr. DEA growls in that sexy way he’s constantly doing, which does nothing to help my poor pillar of a dick. He stands up, dropping his book on the chair. “I’m going with you.”
The bar is a glorious shrine to questionable decisions and overpriced cocktails for those poor souls without the beverage package.
Tucked right beside the glistening pool like a siren luring the sunburned to day drink in their swimsuits, the thatched roofing and neon signs give it a tropical dive vibe.
The bartenders serve with the efficiency of people who’ve seen it all and know it’s only noon.
Each day, the ship offers a new special drink, usually more about the container than the cocktail.
Yesterday’s was a strawberry daiquiri served in a plastic coconut the size of my head.
Today’s masterpiece comes in a hollowed-out pineapple painted like it’s wearing a polka-dot bikini complete with tiny sunglasses and an unsettling amount of confidence.
After the first rum and Coke, Declan seems more relaxed. But his gaze keeps flicking between Emily and Ava and me, ever watchful.
“What are you gonna do once Glenn’s put away?” he finally asks.
I bring a hand to my heart. “Officer McLaren, are you actually concerned about me?”
“No.” He turns away, so all I can see is his profile. “I’d just like to know you have a plan for something legitimate, so you don’t end up right back on the wrong side of the law.” He swirls the boozy cola dregs left in his glass of ice before taking a final sip.
Legitimate .
I take a sip of my drink. “Hadn’t really thought about it yet.”
“Well, you should.” He slides his empty glass away from him.
We’re both silent for a few minutes. A man in socks and sandals lounges by the hot tub, passionately explaining maritime law to no one in particular. The couple next to him nods without removing their earbuds.
“Hey, you think I can check my phone before we get too far out to sea?” I ask.
Declan turns to me, just a little too fast to be casual. “Why?”
“I should text Glenn, make sure he doesn’t get suspicious when I can’t be reached for a week.”
He shifts his weight, arms crossing over his chest like a shield. “Every word goes through me.”
“No problem.” I take a deep breath. “I also want to call my parents.”
“No.”
“What? Why not?”
“How do I know you won’t pass them a message to Glenn?”
“You can listen to the call.”
“No. Too risky. You could use some sort of code.”
I laugh. “You give me way too much credit. My parents don’t know a thing about what I do. As far as they’re concerned, I’m a warehouse inventory supervisor.” The job sounds straightforward and blue-collar enough that no one really asks too many questions but it’s still vague on the details.
“The answer is still no.” He’s not budging. That’s clear.
“Fine.” I drum my fingers on the top of the bar counter.
I’ve never gone more than a few days without checking in with my family to make sure Mercy is okay.
My parents too, with dad’s injured leg and all, but really, I’m checking on my little sister.
She should have what she needs to last her while I’m gone, but she has a bad habit of giving suppressants away to other omegas who need them.
I guess I’ll just have to hope her bleeding heart doesn’t get her in trouble for one week.