Chapter Ten

Wyatt wasn't used to the noise and congestion of a bustling city. The cacophony of car horns, sirens, and chatter of pedestrians was a stark contrast to the quietness of a small town. He took a deep breath, trying to block out the sounds as he walked into the restaurant with Ian.

This was the venue Solomon had chosen. Wyatt lingered at the door as Ian approached the hostess stand and told her who he was meeting. When she smiled and showed him to a table, Wyatt walked to the stand and waited for her return. He watched her flirtatious gestures toward Ian, batting her eyelashes and smiling seductively while subtly moving her body in a provocative manner.

Wyatt looked away and took in olive jars, strands of pasta, and vibrant hot peppers, giving the space a warm and inviting ambiance. The aroma of garlic and tomatoes wafted through the air, mingling with the chatter of guests and clinking plates. Waiters glided around effortlessly, balancing steaming trays of food or clearing away empty dishes. On each table sat a lit candle, casting a warm glow over the crisp white tablecloths.

People were dressed in evening attire, and since Wyatt was in a suit, he didn't stand out, despite his size.

The hostess glanced over her shoulder and spotted Wyatt, then she walked to him with a soft smile. "How many?"

Wyatt returned her smile. "Just me."

"Right this way." She swept her gaze over him like she'd done with Ian, appearing just as interested.

A few people at nearby tables glanced at Wyatt with interest, but he paid them no mind as he was led to the table next to Ian's.

Perfect.

"Your server will be with you shortly." She glanced back at Ian before hurrying off.

"I think our hostess is enamored with you," Wyatt said under his breath.

"She seems nice, but I'm not interested," Ian replied just as quietly.

Having heightened senses had its perks. Even amidst all the noise, whispers could still be heard.

"He just walked in," Ian said, barely moving his lips.

Since Wyatt was facing the door, he saw who Ian was referring to. Solomon was dressed in a deep purple suit. His crisp white shirt contrasted nicely against the deep hue, and a matching purple tie completed the look.

Although he wasn't a good-looking guy, the color worked well for him, highlighting a head full of black hair with streaks of distinguished gray.

He spoke to the hostess, and a moment later, she escorted him to Ian's table.

"I must admit I was surprised to get your call." Solomon sat across from Ian. "The last time we saw each other I had the impression you weren't interested in what I had to offer."

"I'd just retired and had a lot to sort out," Ian said in a charming voice. "Nice choice of venue. I love Italian food."

Since Wyatt was seated in the same direction as Ian, he couldn't see Ian's expression, but he felt the tension bleeding from him.

Solomon licked his thin lips and placed his hand over Ian's. Wyatt had an urge to break that fucking hand. Ian was doing him a favor, but Wyatt hated putting him in an uncomfortable position. It was clear from the time they'd spent on the plane and afterward that Ian was a dominant male. The guy had eyed more than one twink at the airport and in the clothing store, which told Wyatt that someone like Solomon wasn't Ian's type.

Type or not, Solomon was a psychopath. That was the important part–being at the same table with a depraved lunatic.

Ian pulled his hand away and ran it through his long hair. Wyatt thought it was just a tactic to break the contact, but Solomon's green eyes smoldered as he watched what Ian was doing.

"I remember you mentioning that you liked Italian," Solomon replied.

"That was five years ago, and I said it in passing to someone else. You were listening?" Ian sounded surprised as he chuckled. The guy was a damn good actor.

"I paid attention to everything about you, Ian." Solomon appeared annoyed when their server approached their table. "We'll just have two glasses of red wine, and then you can leave us alone."

The server's eyes slightly widened as she cleared her throat. "Very well, sir."

Wyatt would love nothing more than to smack the shit out of Solomon for his rudeness.

She hurried toward the bar then returned a moment later with their wine. When she set the glasses on their table, she approached Wyatt hesitantly, as if she expected him to act the same way.

"How are you this evening?" he asked politely as he smiled at her.

Relief encompassed her entire body, making her smile reach her hazel eyes. "I'm doing great. Thank you for asking. What can I get you to drink?" She handed him a leatherbound menu.

Wyatt took the menu but didn't look at it. "I'll have a cognac and some of those delicious-smelling breadsticks."

"They're addictive," she whispered.

Wyatt chuckled. "They smell like they could be."

Although he was talking to the sweet girl, he could still hear the conversation at the next table.

"I'll bring them right out to you." She walked away with her ponytail swinging.

"You still haven't told me why you called me out of the blue." Solomon swirled the wine in his glass before taking a sip.

"I was in town and thought maybe we could get together." One of Ian's hands was in his lap, the other holding the neck of his glass. It was clear he didn't want Solomon to touch him again, and Wyatt didn't blame the guy. His own skin crawled at the thought of having that hand anywhere near him.

Solomon sighed. "As much as I've dreamed of having you in my bed, this isn't a good time."

"You could make time for me." Ian's voice was laced with seduction as he leaned forward, but he still kept his hands out of Solomon's reach. "I know you have a penthouse nearby. You can't spare me an hour or two?"

Bile rose up Wyatt's throat at Ian having to beg the asshole. If Wyatt could get Solomon into the bathroom, he would beat the names of the other guests out of him.

"An unexpected visitor showed up last night," Solomon said. "His appearance demands my attention."

Wyatt went rigid. Alister was taken last night. Was Solomon Mr. Mysterious? Did this fucking deviant have Wyatt's mate locked up in his penthouse? If so, Solomon had had Alister since last night. It had taken a mere hour to fly to Springrest, and it was only early afternoon.

Still, Wyatt didn't want to think of what Solomon could have done to Alister in the roughly fifteen hours he'd had him.

His cheetah fought to get free and rip the son of a bitch apart. Wyatt rested his arms on the table and curled his hands toward his body to hide the fact that his claws had slid free.

Ian must have sensed how volatile Wyatt was right now because his body stiffened.

"I guess we can get together another time." Ian looked at his phone, but the screen was off. "I just got a text from my former agent, anyway. He's trying to convince me to come out of retirement."

The server returned with Wyatt's drink and breadsticks. "Have you decided what you want to order?"

He forced a smile. "I'm still deciding. I'll need a few more minutes."

"Excuse me," Ian said to her. "Can I get the check? I'm in a bit of a rush."

"Right away, sir." She hurried off as if she couldn't get Solomon out of her section fast enough.

"I'm really sorry this didn't work out." Solomon stood. "Maybe in the future, when my guest is gone, we can make arrangements."

Wyatt had to get out of there. He could feel the tips of his canines cutting into his bottom lip as Solomon moved around the table and embraced Ian.

"We'll make things happen," Solomon said before he released Ian.

As soon as Solomon headed for the door, Wyatt yanked a fifty from his wallet and threw it on the table. "Tell me you know where he lives."

"No, so let's hurry to the car." They took off out the door. Wyatt spotted Solomon getting into the back seat of a sleek, black car. Ian raced to the parking lot and drove the red sedan to the street just as Solomon's driver pulled away.

Wyatt jumped into the passenger seat, and Ian followed Solomon's car.

"I don't think they make water hot enough to scrub his sliminess from my skin." Ian snarled. "I picked up on what he was saying. I saw from the corner of my eye that you did too. He's the one who has Alister."

Wyatt breathed out slowly, trying to center himself. "My cheetah almost got free."

"I know." Ian turned right when Solomon did. "My panther sensed the cheetah's close presence. That's why I rushed things. I wanted to get you out of there before you lost control or I broke his fucking hands for touching me."

Wyatt closed his eyes. He was in the same city as Alister, so close he could practically taste it. "No matter what goes down, I'm getting to my mate."

"We're not leaving without him," Ian replied.

Wyatt was wound so tight that, when his phone rang, he jumped. He pulled it from his pocket to see that Cannon was calling him. "I'm on Alister's trail right now."

"Where are you?" Cannon asked. "I'm in Springrest, and I have Deputy Kijani Tenshi with me."

"What about Paris?" Wyatt asked.

"He's with Morgan and Sam. I couldn't let you do this alone, Wyatt. The entire department wanted to come, but Sheriff Harper knew that wasn't possible. He and the others are on standby if we need them, though."

"I owe you guys a debt." Wyatt told Cannon the street they were on.

"You don't owe us shit. We look out for mates. I just put the street in my GPS. Do you have a cross street so I can narrow down your location?"

Wyatt glanced around. "Transport Street."

"Hang on," Cannon said. "Okay, got it. We're five minutes from you. We drove into the city before I called. Luck must be on our side."

Wyatt sure as hell hoped so. "He's pulling into an underground parking garage." He glanced at the building and gave Cannon the address. "Holy shit. How are we going to find him with that many floors?"

"Find who?" Cannon asked.

"Solomon Tarne is the one who has Alister."

"Are you sure?" Cannon sounded surprised.

"I'd bet my life," Wyatt said.

"We're heading underground, Cannon. We might lose you," Ian said.

"We're two minutes away. We'll meet—"

The call dropped as Ian drove into the parking garage, breaking the control arm of the parking booth.

"They can send me the bill."

Ian drove up the winding ramp until he spotted the sleek, black car. He eased into an empty space ten cars down from Solomon's. At the moment, Wyatt didn't care if the space belonged to a resident. While they would be inconvenienced, Wyatt was trying to save his mate.

Solomon's hard-soled shoes echoed in the garage as he walked to the elevator. He used a keycard to gain access and then stepped inside, the door sliding shut.

"How're we going to get inside?" Ian asked. "We don't have a card, and we don't know what floor he's on."

With a snarl, Wyatt walked over to Solomon's car and yanked the driver's door open.

A short and heavyset man startled as he stared wide-eyed at him. "I don't have any money on me."

Wyatt yanked him out. "You're going to tell me what floor Solomon Tarne lives on. Then you're going to get me on the elevator."

A white SUV parked parallel to the cars on Wyatt's left. Cannon and Kijani got out and joined them.

"He'll kill me if I tell you," the driver whined. "You have no idea who you're messing with."

"Tell me or I swear I'll make your death slow and painful," Wyatt snarled.

With a shaky hand, the driver reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic card. "Floor seventy-five."

"I'll babysit him." Ian snatched the card and handed it to Wyatt. "You don't need him calling and warning Solomon that you're on your way up."

Wyatt took the card and nodded his thanks before he stormed toward the elevator. As soon as Solomon heard the ding that the elevator had arrived on his floor, he would know something was up.

Cannon stepped on first, followed by Wyatt then Kijani. The newest addition to their station was tall, muscular, and fierce looking, his gaze focused as they rode up.

When they reached the seventy-fifth floor, the elevator chimed. Wyatt centered himself as the doors slid open. The three stepped off just as two muscled men walked down the hallway leading to the elevator.

"Go find Alister," Kijani said. "We got these two."

Wyatt turned left and spotted a set of marble stairs. He slid off his suit jacket and dropped it to the floor then rolled his sleeves back. The ruse was over, and now it was time to get his mate back.