Page 51 of Knot Going Down (OlympicVerse #3)

“We just got cell service. Living that boat life.” I toss the words out like they’re no big deal, like I’m not sweating bullets in my borrowed luxury sex-pocalypse suite with a DEA agent staring me down. “What’s up?”

I flick a glance at Lucas. He gives me a subtle nod, smile crooked and steady, the way someone smiles at a tightrope walker halfway across the canyon.

“Do you have me on fucking speaker phone?”

The room is dead quiet, but I’m sure he can hear that unique muffled sound produced by the short distance between the phone and me.

This is fine. I can play this off. I go for smug, lazy charm. “Yeah, I’m a little… tied up right now.” I let the words drip with implication. “Hands full. Mouth about to be. Can’t exactly hold the phone to my ear, big guy.”

Glenn chuckles. “You fucking dog.”

“Guilty.” I lean back on the couch like I’m reclining on a throne instead of trying not to unravel under Declan’s glare.

Doesn’t the man need to blink? “Look, Glenn, much as I love our little chats, is there something you need? Cause in about ten seconds, I won’t be alone anymore, and I’m gonna need my mouth for other things. ”

“Yeah, I need you to pick something up for me in Bermuda. Since you’re there.”

I sit up straighter. “How do you know I’m in Bermuda?”

“You texted you were taking a cruise out of Paris when you left. It wasn’t difficult to figure out the rest.”

Of course it wasn’t. I should have realized. God bless the internet.

I’m just opening my mouth to ask what he wants me to pick up when Emily and Ava come down the stairs, laughing, cheeks adorably flushed, like nothing bad has ever touched them.

“Declan, you won’t believe what Ava told—” Emily catches sight of Lucas in emergency mime mode and cuts off. My beta’s waving his hands, slicing across his throat like we’re in a spy movie and not five seconds away from disaster.

“Who’s that?” Glenn asks, a note of suspicion in his voice that I don’t like one bit.

“I told you I was about to have company,” I say, injecting a lazy grin into my tone. Or trying to.

There’s a beat of silence, too heavy to be casual.

“Who did you say got you on this cruise?”

I didn’t. I’d been careful. Every message painstakingly vague. Declan had read over each one and made them even vaguer. Never any names. No slips.

I glance at him now, silently begging for backup. But the man just narrows his eyes, unreadable.

“Some athletes I met in Paris,” I say evenly, gaze still on Declan. “Come here, baby, want to say hi to my boss?” I try to play it off like it’s no big deal, but my brain is screaming, and every alpha instinct tells me to keep these people I care about far, far away from Glenn Plansky.

Declan doesn’t move, but Ava responds with a giggle that can only be described as vapid. “I thought we were going to have some fun,” she pouts perfectly. Then, as if the devil herself whispered the line into her mouth, “Oh, does your boss want to listen in?”

Declan nearly chokes on his own tongue. The sound is half-cough, half-stunned horror. I laugh even though I want to growl. Ava lifts her eyebrows as if to say, ‘What? I’m playing the bimbo, isn’t that what you wanted?’

“Not my thing, sweetheart,” Glenn says through the line. Thank God.

I let out a slow breath.

“I don’t want to hear Knox’s scrawny ass having sex,” Glenn chuckles darkly. Rude. My ass is not scrawny. “But if you want to come see me once you’re both back in the States, I’ll take you out on my yacht, and we’ll make it a proper cruise.”

“You have a yacht?” Ava says, doubling down on the ditz act like she was born for it.

“It’s a little flashier than I like, but it turns heads,” Glenn replies. “We can party for real. No tourists, no interruptions. Just the good stuff.”

Yeah. This conversation needs to end yesterday.

I fake a moan. Loud. Filthy. Exaggerated enough to sound plausible, pretending Ava’s doing something to me while talking to Glenn.

My boss curses. “I thought I said I didn’t want to hear that.”

“She’s… a little… insatiable.” I make the words sound breathy, as if Ava’s got her hands all over me instead of standing a foot away with the world’s most amused smirk. I need to get off this call before I lose it.

Glenn laughs. “Well then, definitely come see me, sweetheart.”

Ava moans, like her mouth is too full to answer.

She’s a decent little actress. Guess that comes with the territory of keeping all those walls up, always studying everyone like they’ll jump out and hurt her at any moment.

It hits me in the chest, sudden and sharp.

I want to hug her, tuck her into my side and promise she’ll never have to fake anything again.

“I’ll text you the details, Knox,” Glenn says. “Get it done.”

The line goes dead. We all exhale at once. Emily slides in beside me and takes my hand as if she can tell I need her light right now.

“What was that about?” she asks.

Before I can answer, Declan speaks. “Knox and I have to make a pickup while the rest of you do the tour.”

I whip toward him. “Wait? What? You actually want to do the pickup?”

“He can’t get suspicious before I can get close.” Declan’s voice is a loaded gun in a velvet holster.

“Are you sending me in alone?” My voice pitches up, disbelief crackling the words.

“No.” He looks at me, a slow grin spreading over his face. A rare smile. Intimate and dangerous. “We’re going together.”

I blink. “Don’t you think it’ll look suspicious if I show up with a DEA agent?”

“It would,” Declan agrees, stepping in close. “If I were a DEA agent.” I must have fallen victim to some kind of indoor heat stroke because Officer McLaren fucking winks at me. “But I’m not. I’m your boyfriend, remember?”