Page 99 of Knot Going Down

“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?”

48

KNOX

Glenn sent us an address thirty minutes outside of town, far enough we need a taxi. I don’t know how the hell Glenn has connections in Bermuda, but at this point, nothing surprises me. The man’s network is wider, and darker, than I ever realized. Maybe Declan’s right about him being a goddamned mob boss.

The taxi winds along the coast, engine clanking like it’s tired of its own existence. Through the gaps in the trees, the ocean flashes electric blue, all sun-dappled and inviting. Everything looks peaceful. Touristy. Like nothing bad ever happens here.

Declan shifts beside me in the cramped backseat, arms tense, knee bumping mine. “We get in and out, got it? You don’t say more than you need to. No alpha posturing. No jokes.”

“So you’ve told me.” I rest my elbow on the door, squinting out at the blur of pastel cottages and tangled bougainvillea. “I’vedone this before, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.”

He says it like a jab, but his voice is flatter than usual, more tired than sharp. I don't push. Silence stretches between us, the only sound the roar of the engine, the rattle of loose coins inthe taxi driver’s dashboard, and the quiet thunk of my fingers drumming against my knee.

“It might be hard for you to believe,” I murmur, “but I didn’t set out to do this.”

“Why’d you do it, then?” Declan’s voice is soft, but clipped.

I don’t look at him. I keep my eyes on the window, watching a dog trot down the side of the road, tongue lolling like the heat doesn’t bother him. “My sister was twelve when she designated as an omega.”

Declan turns toward me so fast I can feel the shift in the air. “What the fuck? Seriously?”

“Yeah.” My fingers speed up their rhythm. “My dad had just lost his job. He got hurt. No insurance. Mercy had to drop out of school. She couldn’t even go outside. We were terrified she’d perfume around the wrong alpha and—” I cut myself off. The words feel too dangerous to be spoken out loud. “She was miserable. We were all jumpy and panicked. Mom cried every day for a month. And that’s when I’d had enough.”

The cab swerves slightly to avoid a pothole, and I brace my palm against the seatback.

“I found a dealer. Did my research too. Made sure he had a reputation for clean suppressants. I told my parents I discovered a doctor willing to see her under the table. Once a month, I’d take Mercy out for ice cream, and we’d pretend I’d taken her to the appointment.” My mouth’s dry now. Always is, when I talk about this part. “After a while, I got to know the guy selling. He offered to hook me up. Said I had a trustworthy face.” I almost laugh at that. “Told me if I moved a certain amount each quarter, he’d keep giving me suppressants for Mercy. Free. What was I supposed to say? No?”

Declan doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even grunt. I wish I knew what was going on in that hardwired officer brain of his. Does he get it? Can he?

The cab slows, gravel crunching under the tires as we pull up in front of a faded bungalow with rusted shutters and a sagging porch. The wind chime by the door lets out a halfhearted clink as the sea breeze stirs it.

Declan leans forward. “Wait here,” he says to the driver, then climbs out without looking at me.

The place looks like every other off-the-books drop spot I’ve ever been to. Forgettable. Generic. Quiet in the way that says,‘don’t ask questions.’

We step up onto the porch. I tug at the hem of my shirt and plaster on a smile. Might as well look the part.

The guy who opens the door is twitchy and lean, dressed like he’s trying to disappear. His eyes land on me, then swing to Declan. “You Glenn’s guy?”

“Yep.” I say, popping theptoo hard on purpose. Declan sends me a look that could sharpen knives.

The man’s mouth tightens. “Who’s this? Glenn said you’d be alone.”

“I’m never alone.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

He isn’t amused.

Neither is Declan. “I’m his boyfriend,” he says, jaw tight.

“Boyfriends wait on the porch.”