Page 37 of Knot Giving Up 2

“What if I don’t do it?” I ask.

Glenn picks up my drink and gives it a little swirl, the ice clattering inside the paper cup. “Make it to the finals and throw the last game or pay triple.”

“We can’t pay triple!” I say, just a little too loud.

We all look around and breathe a sigh of relief when no one pays us any attention.

He leans closer, his breath smelling of cigarettes and brie. “If you can’t pay, then we’ll give you a little incentive to come up with the money. Or make you work off the debt. I could probably think of a few uses for two pretty boys like you.” His gaze flicks to me, then Nils, before traveling to where Meggie stands in line waiting to order. “Maybe you could pay off the debt faster with the help of your pack.”

“Why you fuckin—” I go to take a swing at him, but hands grip me from behind. I didn’t realize he had another asshole with him. This one’s got a tattoo on his forearm and a worried look on his face.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” the alpha behind me growls, while the other presses the tip of his knife to the side of Nils’s ribs, just barely visible over the edge of the table.

Fuck! Fuck! I can’t let him hurt Nils. And the thought of this fucker anywhere near Meggie makes me physically ill. Our internet search pops back up in my memories. We were half joking when we looked up selling kidneys, but now I’m ready to do it. Except… it would take four illegally-harvested lungs to cover a debt that size.

Glenn calmly slides out of the booth, wipes his hands on a napkin, and strolls out. The two guys with him shove off and follow.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“What the hell are we gonna do?”

20

Meggie

Standing in line to get our burgers, Emily and I chat about her dive that morning. Apparently, a Chinese diver did Evgeny Kuznetsov’s dive, which was the first time it’s been done in a competition, but I have no idea who Evgeny Kuznetsov is or anything about the fancy complicated multi-flipping dive he created. My phone vibrates in my back pocket and jerks my attention away from her explanation.

Vicksters: Send proof of life

Lily Billy: Are you hydrating? I saw a video about electrolytes and lemons in alkaline water for faster recovery.

Momma: Putting lemon in alkaline water wouldn’t make it alkaline anymore, sweetie.

Momma: Send proof of life! We haven’t gotten a picture in three hours!

I snap a picture of my tray of fries as we get our burgers, and send a picture to Ashleigh with a ‘gh’, too. I’m grinning at Ashleigh’s response—her drinking from a straw in a jar of pickles—when Em spots the Brazilian guy from the party the other night. Lucas. I think that was his name. He waves her over to their table, but she hesitates.

“Go.” I nudge her in his direction, and to my surprise, she goes without further protest. Normally, Em would be too nervous to go over and talk to a guy by herself like that. I’m proud of her.

As I turn away, I pause, noticing a broad-shouldered man with short-trimmed hair who looks an awful lot like Knox, the guy I buy my illegal suppressants from. He’s walking out the door with his back to me, so I’m probably wrong, but the script tattoo on the man’s forearm looks very much like Mercy.

There’s no way he'd be here, though. He’s not an athlete, and they only allow athletes in the Olympic Village.

I shake off the uneasy feeling and go back to the table to find McQuinn and Nils with their heads bent and their voices nothing but a low whisper. There might actually be sweat on Nils’s brow and McQuinn is wringing his hands around a napkin like he wants to strangle it.

“Everything okay?”

“Shit,” McQuinn looks up and huffs. “Go away, Meggie. I can’t deal with you right now.”

His words feel like being slammed in the face by a wave. I stifle the gasp that threatens my throat. It wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t want a relationship with him so badly. McQuinn is a flame I can’t seem to walk away from. I want to bask in his warmth and feel his passion turned into something other than anger. I want to cause that passion to turn into something other than anger. If he would just let me in, I know we’d be incredible together.

“McQuinn,” Nils reprimands. He moves over, making room for me in the booth beside him, but I hesitate. I don’t want to upset McQuinn even more. If there’s any chance of us working this out, I need to tread carefully and not push him further away.

Sensing my reservations, Nils takes my tray of food from me and sets it on the table. “Sit.”

McQuinn rips the napkin in half. Nils’s gaze is soft as he looks at the man across from us. His love is so obvious, but I don’t think McQuinn sees it. Or he just doesn’t trust it.

“Maybe she can help,” Nils says.

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