13. McQuinn

13

McQuinn

I can't stop jiggling my leg and rubbing my rabbit's foot. I wasn't half this nervous last time I played in the Olympics. But I didn't have a quarter million dollars on the line last time. I also wasn't playing alongside an illegal omega.

Shit, there's so much that could go wrong today.

The stakes for every game are always high at the Olympics. One game lost and you're out. But the first game feels almost as intense as the last one. This game sets the tone for what's coming. It proves that you're good enough to be here.

Just before I'm about to slam my locker shut, my phone dings. The name on the screen makes me tense. I'd asked my parents if they wanted to come to the games. Offered to get them flights and tickets and everything. Not that I really have the money to spare right now after my stupid bet, but they didn't come last time, and I thought maybe they'd support me this time.

That was more than two weeks ago, and my mom is only just now responding.

Mom : Sorry, honey. Your sister's got her bonding ceremony this week. Don't you remember? We can't go gallivanting off to Europe in the middle of that.

Right. Because the Olympics were a last-minute thing, not something on the calendar for years that my omega sister could have worked around.

Mom: But good luck today.

Not bothering with a response, I toss the phone on the top of my bag. It lights up again with another message. This one, from an unknown number.

Unknown number: I know who you are, McQuinn. We'll be talking soon.

What the fuck? I copy the number and search google to see if it's spam or some kind of weird shit. Nothing comes up.

My stomach drops. Could this be Glenn? Did he find out I'm an athlete?

"You okay?" Nils rubs a hand up my back, a comforting touch, but it still makes me shiver and wish we were somewhere else right now.

"Nervous, carrot top?" Oz snaps his towel at my ass and I glare at him.

"I'm fine."

"In the pool," Dante calls, holding the door open. It's time to get out there.

Whoever that message's from, I'm going to have to deal with it later. Right now, we have a game to win.

***

"Fuck, did you see that?" The noise Oz's locker makes as he slams it is as loud as his shit-eating smile. "Did you see the way I saved this guy's ass?" He wraps an arm around Dante's shoulder, and the bigger man shoves him off. "When Dante fumbled, I thought we were done for. That ball was a good ten yards from me and the Serbian winger was closer. I thought he was gonna get it for sure, but he didn't. I did! That was me , baby. I made the winning goal. Hell, yeah!" He pelvic thrusts the air. "Did you see it, baby girl?"

He sweeps Meggie into his arms, making the towel she wrapped around her wet swimsuit fall. I can ignore that body when we're in the pool, but now, with those long legs still wet and glistening… I look away.

"I saw it." Meggie giggles, her eyes glowing with that athlete's victory high.

"We all saw it," Harrison gives an indulgent smile, but I know he's pleased with how our first game went.

"We won! What are we gonna do now?" Oz asks, still buzzing. "Hit up a party? A bar? A bed?" He wiggles his eyebrows at Meggie, who's back on her feet.

Personally, I've got a lot of energy I need to burn off. Anxious energy about that text. Angry energy about my parents choosing my sister over me. Again. Excited energy about winning our first game. "I vote dancing."

"Nope. Not happening. I made the winning goal and I pick," Oz says.

"Then why did you ask?"

"I wasn't asking you. I was asking Meggie." Oz pulls her back into his side. She's still in nothing but that fucking blue swimsuit that matches her eyes. I don't understand how I can want her so badly and be jealous of her at the same time. It's like I'm constantly at war with myself.

"What if I want to go dancing?" Meggie smirks at my idiot pack mate before her gaze flicks to me. My stomach swoops and twists at the heated look in her eyes. For a brief flash, I see us dancing, her ass rubbing against me, my hands on her waist, gliding up the curve of her body.

Her tongue parts her pretty pink lips, and now I'm picturing something even more appealing.

"Okay, but only because it'll mean you'll rub up against me," Oz says.

"If that's how it's gonna be, I'm claiming the first dance." Nils tugs Meggie away from Oz and spins her into his chest. Breaking our eye contact.

Meggie laughs, sandwiched between them, and my vision of the club shifts to something entirely unappealing. She wouldn't be dancing with me. Neither would Nils.

I grab my gym bag and throw it over my shoulder. "I'm turning in. Have fun."

"Hey," Nils steps away from Meggie and grabs my arm. "Dancing was your idea. You can't just leave."

Meggie is on her tiptoes kissing Dante now and she looks so damn fine with his hands on her cute little ass it makes me want to punch something.

"I'm leaving." I say with a bit too much bite.

"Alright, I'm coming with you." Nils spins around, grabs his gym bag, whispers something in Meggie's ear, gives her a kiss that has my dick twitching, then takes my hand. "Let's go."

There are vans we can take back to the village, but Nils leads me towards the metro instead. In the long tunnel that leads to the platform, he takes me by surprise and shoves me against the wall, right there in front of everyone walking by.

"Do you need to be reminded how much I care about you, McQuinn? Is that what you need?" He's got that primal, dominant edge to him that he often has when we're together. I wonder if he's like this with Meggie. He's so protective of her, I can't imagine him being rough with her the way he is with me, but fuck, I want to know if he is.

He reaches up, grabs the back of my neck and slams his lips to mine. The kiss is all teeth and tongues and wild gasps.

Someone yells something at us in French and I try to pull back so we can get on the train. I can hear it coming, feel the wind whipping down the tunnel, but Nils doesn't let up. He kisses me like he has something to prove and only stops once the subway doors open, and only long enough to shove our way through the crowd to the back, where he kisses me again.

When he finally lets up, I'm panting and trying to calm down so I can avoid a raging boner in my Team USA sweatpants.

We stand there, holding the bar and watching the tourists get on and off at each stop. Everyone living their own lives, their own stresses and problems and joys.

"Hey," Nils draws my attention away from the other people around us, "Are you gonna tell me what got you so riled up tonight? Because I know it was more than just me wanting to dance with Meggie."

Glancing around the subway car and the young couple standing close enough to overhear, I shake my head. "Not here."

We get off and wander the streets of France, but Nils quickly realizes he can't pull me from my shit mood. We just won our first Olympic match. I should be over the moon. But because of my bad choices, I'm in this fucking mess instead of enjoying Paris with the man I love.

"Let's just go back," Nils offers, his hand in mine. He's too perfect to be pissed at me for not being able to enjoy the night. That's one of the reasons I love him. He handles way too much of my bullshit.

The apartment is empty when we get back. Thank god.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and toss it at him with the message from the unknown sender open.

Nils reads it, looks up, reads it again as I lean against the back of the couch. The smallest crease forms between his eyes. "You think this is Glenn?"

"Who else would send me a threatening text message?"

"A deranged fan. Someone could be going all Annie Wilkes on you."

"Annie Wilkes?"

"You know, Misery . Stephen King. A fan kidnaps a novelist."

"Not ringing any bells."

"Oh, that's right, you only read fantasy," Nils teases.

I childishly stick my tongue out at him, but it backfires when he grabs it between his fingers and tugs. It's like an erotic shot of adrenaline straight to my dick. But right now, I need to focus.

I push him off and pull away. "What if it is Glenn? What does he want?"

Nils shrugs. "More money?"

"How the fuck are we gonna do that?" I head to the kitchen to grab a beer, then remember the kitchen is empty except for coffee and some chips and beef jerky Oz bought.

"I could always sell a kidney."

I can't tell if Nils is serious, but I pluck my phone from his hands and start to search. "Google says a kidney can get $50,000 to $120,000." I look up to catch his eyes. "We each have an extra kidney."

Now Nils is grinning, probably unable to tell if I'm joking. I'm not really sure I am. But how do you sell an illegally-harvested kidney? Facebook marketplace? eBay?

I keep reading, "Livers can sell for $145,000 and lungs can go for $290,000. But a pancreas can—"

"I'm going to want to keep both of my lungs, babe."

The little term of endearment stops my doom scrolling. His grin is too wide, and it draws me in.

"Let's put selling organs in the Plan C category. Or D, or W." He reaches over and clicks my phone to black. "We can figure this out. We both passed high school. We went to college. We're smart!"

A smile tugs on my lips, knowing I'm really not alone in this.

"We just need to dig up some dirt on him." Nils slides his hand in mine and draws me over to the couch. Pulling Harrison's laptop over from the edge of the coffee table, he powers it up. "Can we blackmail a blackmailer?"

"He isn't blackmailing me," I remind him. "Maybe pull up a dictionary of criminal terminology while you're at it."

"Do you think there's a BuzzFeed quiz for this? Something like What Crime Is Best For Your Zodiac?"

I roll my eyes and shift the laptop closer to me so I can type. Clicking off the open browser of flights to Paris, I open a new tab.

"Facebook!" Nils's laugh soothes the worry in my gut. "You're going to find dirt on a crime lord on Facebook?"

"He's not a crime lord!" At least, I don't think so. What makes someone a crime lord? But there are 27 results for Glenn Plansky, including Glenn Polansky, Glenn Pransky, and a Glen Plans.

"Facebook is for people to share nice photos with their grandma, complain about the Homeowners Association, and ask if fireworks are gunshots." Nils slides the laptop away from me and closer to him. "Glenn won't be there."

His fingers hover over the keyboard before he types Reddit.com.

"Reddit?" My foot starts tapping. I should have paid more attention when we watched crime shows. Could have learned something helpful.

"Reddit is better than TikTok," Nils explains. "I'm sure we can find something there that can help us."

The highlights on the feed's homepage read:

Energy drinks are too accepted in today's society Am I The Asshole for having another pack's baby? It's official, my friend's child will be named Questopher

We share a look before I run my fingers through my hair. "I think we need to put selling kidneys back up on the board."