Page 4 of Knot Your Karma (Not Yours #1)

“I’m sure you have a fascinating story. But here’s what concerns me—this Mitchell fellow has photos, detailed descriptions, even knows about the inscription on the back. Makes me very uncomfortable, having someone with that much specific information sniffing around my business.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know exactly what kind of heat you’ve brought to my door. I want to know if this is family drama or something that’s going to involve badges and search warrants. And I want to know how you’re planning to make this little problem disappear.”

“It’s not heat. It’s just... family looking for a lost heirloom.”

“Lost. Interesting word choice, darling. This sounds more like stolen property and a very exposed fence. Which would make both of us criminals if this alpha decides to involve law enforcement.”

Destiny’s arm slides around my shoulders, and I find myself curling into her side. This is worse than I anticipated. I’m in so much trouble.

“He wouldn’t?—”

“Wouldn’t he? Family heirlooms with five generations of sentimental value tend to inspire people to do inconvenient things. Like file police reports. Like press charges. Like turn my quiet business into a very public problem.”

Destiny makes violent slashing motions across her throat, but I can’t move. Even though I’m pretty sure she would commit murder on my behalf.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to make this go away, darling. Find out what this Mitchell really wants, how much he actually knows, and whether he’s planning to make my life difficult.

Because if he is...” Another loaded pause.

“Let’s just say I keep very detailed records of all my transactions.

Records that would tell a fascinating story to the right authorities. ”

“You’re threatening me.”

“I’m protecting my livelihood, same as you should be protecting yours. You have forty-eight hours to figure out how to handle this situation. After that, I start making some very difficult phone calls to cover my own ass.”

The line goes dead.

I sit there staring at my phone while Destiny curses creatively in both English and Spanish, her arm tightening around me like she’s trying to hold all my pieces together.

“That absolute bitch,” she finally says, voice low and dangerous. “She’s trying to blackmail you.”

“She’s protecting herself.” I put my head in my hands, breathing in cinnamon and espresso until my pulse stops hammering. “If Declan goes to the police...”

“He’s not going to the police. He’s trying to handle this quietly for his family.”

“But if he finds out I stole it? If he realizes I’m the one responsible for it being gone?” My voice cracks. “Destiny, I could go to jail. Sage has records of the sale, and she’ll throw me under the bus to save herself.”

“Okay.” Destiny’s voice drops to that calm, controlled tone that’s way more terrifying than her yelling, because calm Destiny is the one who actually gets shit done. “Here’s what we’re going to do, and I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

“There’s nothing we can do. I’m completely screwed.”

“Bullshit. There’s always a way out when you’ve got good people in your corner.” She turns to face me fully. “What does Declan actually know right now?”

“He knows the compass is missing. He knows Blake made poor choices. He’s checking antique dealers and estate sale people.”

“Does he know you and Blake dated? ”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t react to my name or anything.”

“Good. So as far as he knows, you’re just a helpful antique dealer who might be able to help him find a family heirloom.”

“But I can’t actually help him find it because I’m the reason it’s missing!”

“Says who?”

I blink at her. “What do you mean, says who?”

“I mean, maybe you can help him. Maybe there’s a way to get the compass back.”

“Destiny, Sage doesn’t just return things. She moves pieces into private collections where they disappear forever. That compass is probably in some rich collector’s vault by now.”

“So we find out where it is. And then we figure out how to get it back.”

“We?”

“You think I’m letting you handle this alone? After some black-market dealer just threatened my best friend?” Cinnamon wraps around me like a promise, fierce and protective. “Hell no. We’re in this together now.”

“I can’t ask you to?—”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling.” She stands and holds out her hand, her grip strong and sure when I take it. “This is what ride-or-die friendship looks like, Mija . You don’t get to carry this alone just because you’re embarrassed about taking what Blake owed you.”

“It isn’t taking what he owes me. It’s theft.”

“It’s justice. Blake owes you a lot more than one compass after what he put you through.”

“What are you thinking?” I ask as we start walking back toward Main Street.

“I’m thinking we need more information. About where the compass ended up, about what Declan’s really planning, about how much time we have before this all explodes in our faces. ”

“And how do we get that information?”

“Well, for starters, you’re going to call your gorgeous cedar-scented alpha and tell him you might have a lead on his family heirloom.”

“Destiny, I can’t?—”

“You can, and you will. Because right now, you’re the only one who knows what he’s looking for and why. That gives you an advantage.”

“An advantage for what?”

“For figuring out how to fix this before it destroys your life.” She bumps my shoulder with hers, warm and solid. “Come on. We’re going back to my place to plan.”

“Destiny?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For not telling me I’m an idiot for stealing the compass in the first place.”

“Oh, you’re definitely an idiot.” She grins at me, fierce and loyal and completely unrepentant. “But you’re my idiot, and nobody gets to mess with my people except me.”

“That’s very comforting.”

“I aim to please.” Her hand finds mine and squeezes, warm and sure. “Besides, Blake had it coming. The only thing you did wrong was not taking more stuff when you had the chance.”

Despite everything—the threat, the fear, the disaster spiraling around me—I find myself smiling. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too. Even when you make spectacularly bad decisions that require emergency bestie intervention.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Honey, this is definitely emergency bestie intervention. The kind where we’re going to fix your mess and probably bend a few rules along the way.” Her voice carries that particular note of mischief that usually means I’m about to get in trouble .

“I’m not breaking any more rules.”

“We’ll see about that, Mija ,” Destiny says cheerfully, and I find myself gravitating toward her warmth as we walk. “We’ll see.”