Page 50 of Wolf Lost

“Shouldn’t you wait for them? Three on one is better than you going after him yourself.”

“I won’t be by myself, ma’am. I’ll have Sawyer.” He tugged his shirt on over his head and snatched up his cane. “I need to find where he left the keys to my truck.”

They both scanned the area, and Kareni darted over to grab them off the main counter. She tossed them to him, and he caught them in his free hand. “I’ll call them right now. You’re sure you won’t wait?”

“Like you said, he’s my boyfriend. Can’t leave him with that asshole a minute longer than I have to.”

She nodded, and as he turned to leave, she was already pulling her phone out of her pocket.

It didn’t take long to follow the pack bond to Sawyer. Dez had been pleased to have the bond all along, but he was more grateful than before that Gavin had accidentally incited its existence. Dez had no idea why, but the guy had taken Sawyer to a little cabin on the side of the mountains. His flashy red sports car was pulled up diagonally outside, like he had been in a hurry, or was a terrible driver.

As a precaution, Dez turned his truck to the side, blocking the drive completely. The bastard wasn’t going to escape with Sawyer. Maybe not at all.

He looked down at his right hand on the gear shift. Not a twitch.

He made no attempt to hide his arrival, shutting off the truck and slamming the door behind him. He kept his footsteps slow and even, didn’t want the man to think he was rushed or frightened.

Dez wanted that bastard to be as frightened as he’d made Sawyer.

At the door, he considered breaking it down to make a point, but he could already imagine Sawyer giving him shit for going all mindless alpha male and destroying instead of using his brain. So he turned the handle. The door wasn’t locked.

So Mr. Flashy-Car Small-Penis was also not much of a thinker. Dez rolled his eyes and threw the door open so it reverberated against the wall behind it. That felt better. Maybe it wasn’t breaking anything, but it was satisfying.

Only way it could have been better was if it hit the guy in the face.

Dez was shocked to see the man in person. He’d been half expecting a balding accountant-type, but this guy was, for lack of a better term, a gym rat. He had big pecs, barely contained by his tight vee-neck T-shirt, and impressive biceps. He might have been better built than Dez, given the fact that it had been months since Dez had set foot in a gym, even the one in the house.

On the other hand, the impressive physique was offset by the fact that he was hiding behind Sawyer, fingers threateningly wrapped around Sawyer’s neck.

“I’ll kill him,” he said, pretending casualness but speaking too quickly to pull it off.

Dez raised a brow at him but didn’t move from the door. “Yeah?” he asked. “How do you think that’s gonna end for you, dickhead?”

The man scowled at him. “Are you the one who’s been teaching Sawyer that language? Shame on you.”

“Is this asshole serious?” Dez glanced down at Sawyer, who nodded slightly. Despite the fact that a strange alpha’s hands were on his throat, Sawyer didn’t look—or smell—at all worried. He smiled at Dez, then looked him up and down as though he wanted to jump on him right there.

Well. That was something to remember for later.

“I swear on my mother’s grave—and my mother was a fucking saint—if you say something about Sawyer being a feeble omega, any chance you have of getting out of this without broken bones evaporates.” Dez doubted it was an option to begin with, but he figured it made his position as clear as possible.

For the first time since he’d opened the door, the alpha seemed to look him over. Ken Doll sneered when his gaze landed on Dez’s cane. “What the hell is this?”

“This?” Dez asked, pulling the cane up and grasping it by the center. He took two steps forward, making no attempt to hide his limp. “We call this a cane. Do you need a definition too?”

The man dropped his hand from Sawyer’s neck, and Dez held back his relief at that. This was perfect. Exactly what he needed.

“Something wrong, Chad?” Dez asked him.

The man cracked his knuckles threateningly, like a fucking meathead stereotype. Dez tried to remember if steroids killed brain cells, and decided that they must, because the guy didn’t wait to see what Dez was going to do, just lunged at him.

Dez slipped his cane up so he was gripping the bottom of it and jammed it into the asshole’s stomach. “Seriously? Not even a threat? A demand? Last cigarette, maybe?”

“Mark doesn’t smoke,” Sawyer offered from where he was struggling against his bonds.

Dez grinned at him and almost missed when the guy jumped at him. He ducked to avoid the blow, a wild haymaker, and his leg gave a threatening cramp, reminding him that it was already pissed off at him today.

Mark, showing that he had a little more in him than incompetent stereotype, followed up the first punch with a left-handed uppercut, and managed to clip Dez in the chin.

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