Page 62 of His Gift
Walt stopped to catch his breath and looked at me like he didn’t know what I was talking about. “He went out to get some fresh air and think about things, but three men stopped him on the sidewalk. I think one of them is his dad.”
I cursed under my breath and broke into a run. I was a fool for letting Enzo out of my sight or for forgetting the threat that hung over his head. I hadn’t taken that threat seriously enough. I’d wanted to badly to discount the whole Rick Deluca, selling himself thing. It had seemed ridiculous on one level when he’d told me the whole story, but the danger felt so real now.
“What is this all about?” my dad asked as I tore through the lobby and out into the cold afternoon. The fact that my dad had kept up with me to begin with instead of staying in the event hall and dismissing me and Enzo both was a surprise.
“Enzo might be in trouble,” I said, pausing to turn this way and that as I searched for him. “I’ll explain the whole thing later, but—there they are!”
My heart sank to my feet as I spotted Enzo struggling in his dad’s grip. They might have been talking or negotiating for something, I wasn’t sure, but whatever had happened earlier, it was a genuine struggle now.
“Get off of me!” Enzo shouted as he twisted and pulled and did everything he could to wriggle away from his dad. “I said no, I’m not interested. I was never interested in the first place.”
“Oh no you don’t,” his dad growled back to him. “I want my twenty thousand dollars, and I’m going to get it whether you want to back out of the deal or not.”
“This isn’t what I signed on for,” the alpha dressed in black said, dancing nervously around the edges of the confrontation. When he glanced our way and saw Dad and I barreling toward them, he jerked and swore, then sprinted off down the street like we were the cops coming for him. For all he knew, we were.
The others turned and saw us, too, and Enzo shouted, “Shawn!” with a look of pure relief on his face.
O’Neill let go of Enzo, but instead of running away like the other guy did, he seemed energized by my and my dad’s appearance. “There they are, Ricky!” he said, pointing at us as Enzo turned and dashed for me. “There are those bigger fish I told you we could fry.”
I only had half a second to notice how nervous the alpha who must have been Rick Deluca looked before Enzo threw himself heavily into my arms. He let out a cry as he buried his face against my shoulder. I had the feeling he would have jumped all the way into my arms and wrapped himself around me if he hadn’t been half hysterical with relief.
“Who are you and what are you doing trespassing on my event?” Dad demanded as he stepped past us to confront O’Neill and Rick.
“Who the hell areyou?” O’Neill demanded in return, puffing himself up like he thought he was the superior alpha present.
Rick inched forward and grabbed O’Neill’s arm, tugging on his sleeve like he knew he was outmatched.
“I’m Tristan Wythe,” Dad answered. “Owner and founder of Wythe Industries. Who the hell areyou?”
Someone could have knocked me over with a candy cane right about then. I’d seen my dad throw his alpha around a dozen times a day and more, but never like this.
“I’m that one’s sire,” O’Neill said, still not backing down as he pointed at Enzo. “He owes me, he does.”
“Jamie, back down,” Rick cautioned him.
“I will not,” O’Neill said, trying to make himself look even bigger. “That omega is my son and he agreed to sell himself to my associate here for a pretty penny, a sum that will be paid to me for my troubles.”
“I’m so sorry,” Enzo groaned against my shoulder. “I swear, I didn’t agree to anything.”
“I know, baby,” I said, wrapping my arms tightly around him.
Dad looked like he might call lightning down from the sky to destroy all of us, he was so irate. “Do you mean to tell me,” he said in a deceptively calm voice that had the hair standing up on the back of my head, “that you sought to traffic your own son to this…this person?” He gestured to Rick.
“It was all a misunderstanding, sir,” Rick said, holding up both hands. “It was a joke, you see. I encountered this omega, who, er, seems to be very much spoken for, at a bar more than two months ago. Drinks were had, jokes were made, and the whole thing got a little out of control.”
“What?” O’Neill balked. “What are you talking about? I want my money.”
“Do you know who that is?” Rick hissed, stepping closer to O’Neill like he would drag the fool away.
“No, and I don’t care, unlesshewants to pay me the twenty thousand instead of your other guy,” O’Neill said. “The younger one looks like he might want to keep the boy.”
“That’sTristan Wythe,” Rick said, hissing the name.
“And who’s he when he’s at home?” O’Neill asked.
“Someone you don’t want to mess with,” Rick said, tugging O’Neill’s sleeve again. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
O’Neill looked reluctant to move, until Dad said, “Would you like me to call for the police to resolve this matter?”
