“Interesting,” William murmured. “What are your thoughts on this?”
“I think they’re absolutely right.” Dante took another swig of his beer. “If we go there with our hybrid mates and tell everyone what Bianca’s been up to… I can’t imagine that the Purists in the room will remain silent. We kill two birds with one stone. Layla gets to take Bianca to task, and we get our enemies to show themselves.”
The band broke into their first number with ear-shattering volume, and William instantly sought out Layla. She was down in front of the band, shooting from every angle she could get amid the swiftly growing dance mob and groupies. The bass beat thrummed through the small bar, and the wispy energy waves of the humans buzzed around the room like annoying flies that he couldn’t shake. In the middle of it all was Layla—as beautiful, elusive, and wild as ever.
As lead attorney for the Amoveo Corporation, he had direct ties to the Council and the prince. Attending the meeting wouldn’t be an issue, but he knew that the subject matter was likely to generate nothing but trouble. However, if it would give Layla peace of mind and resolution to speak with the Council, then he would do it.
“I’ll set it up.”
Dante stilled and kept his sharp amber gaze on William. “You’ll set what up?” he asked warily.
“The meeting.” William’s dark eyes locked with Dante’s. “We will take our mates to the Council and see if it gives us the results we’re looking for.”
“My sister, Mariana, took my father’s place, and she’s expressed concern about certain members on the Council. I don’t think she knows what to make of it, and since she’s new, she doesn’t say much in or out of the meetings.”
William watched as Dante struggled with the unpleasant memories and steeled himself against his rumbling energy waves. He still blanched at the fact that his own father had been a Purist and had tried to kill Samantha. William couldn’t imagine dealing with that kind of betrayal.
“I can’t believe she’s on the Council.” Dante shook his head and let out a short laugh. “She’s always fighting against the grain, y’know. The party girl who never wanted to grow up.” He sighed. “And now, she’s seated on the Council representing the Bear Clan.” He shook his head. “It’s bizarre.”
“Does she know?” William asked above the music. “Does she know about what Brendan—your father—did?”
“No,” he bit out. Dante’s jaw clenched, and he took a swig of his beer. “She thinks he died trying to protect Samantha, not kill her.”
William made a small sound of understanding but silently wondered if that impacted Marianna’s overall feeling about the hybrids. If she thought her father died in an effort to protect one, would she embrace their existence at all?
“I do have one lingering concern,” William confided. “Since Layla and I haven’t completed the mating rite, our powers aren’t as strong as I would like them to be.”
“You don’t even have to ask.” Dante cut him off before he could say another word. “We’ll have your back, just like you’ve always had ours.”
“Thank you.” William shook his hand firmly. “I’ll confirm the meeting time tomorrow.”
“What meeting?” Kerry asked as she draped one arm over Dante’s shoulders. Her dark eyes widened as she realized exactly what he meant. “Holy crap! We’re gonna do it. We’re going to the Council.” She threw her head back and let out a lusty laugh. “I freaking love it.”
“Good God, woman.” William’s brow knitted together in confusion as he watched Kerry’s reaction. “Can you please tell me what on earth is so funny?”
“You, that’s what.” She leaned over, snagged her drink off the bar, and took a sip. “A few weeks ago, the idea of stepping outside the box of your three-piece suit would’ve been totally unheard of. You were so uptight, if I shoved a lump of coal up your butt, I would’ve gotten a diamond in return.” She raised her glass in his direction and looked him up and down. “Now here you are, in a pair of jeans, no tie, hanging out in the middle of a loud hometown bar, planning on taking three hybrids into a Council meeting so your mate can confront the woman who’s been meddling with her life, and provoke any Purists to reveal themselves for the prejudiced bastards they are.” She let out a hoot, planted a kiss on Dante’s cheek, and grinned at William. “You, my friend, are finally likable, and you owe it to that spunky chick with the camera.”
“She’s right.” Dante stifled a laugh. “But I always liked you… most of the time.”
“Ah, bullshit.” Kerry bumped him with her hip. “You tolerated him, but now you like him.” She winked at William. “Just kidding, tough guy.” She grabbed Dante’s hands, pulled him out of the seat and up against her long form. “Come on, lover. It’s time to dance.”
William watched them hit the tiny dance floor, and memories of his dance with Layla came flooding back in living color. He reached to her with his mind, an instinctive reflex, but found that same mental barrier solidly in place. He cursed under his breath and flagged down Joyce for another drink. He had to do something to put out the combustible force of desire and frustration.
Joyce complied with a wink and made quick work of his drink, but before he could take another sip, a vaguely familiar tendril of dark energy slithered into the bar. William’s entire body tensed, and he instantly sought out Layla.
She stood in the midst of the crowd, but instead of shooting pictures of the band, her camera was aimed at the front door. She remained frozen in the throng of dancing bodies, the camera glued to her hands, her eye placed firmly at the lens, and her finger on the trigger. Her energy waves pulsed like rapid machine gunfire and hammered at William with vicious intensity as she kept her sights fixed firmly on her subject.
In a blur of inhuman speed, he cut through the crowd, and seconds later was standing at her side, along with Dante and Kerry. With one hand placed gently on her lower back, he sent her subtle waves of reassurance as he looked up to see what had her so transfixed.
Anger flared as his suspicions were confirmed. Sylvia Clark was back.
***
The shadowy tentacle of unpleasant energy had skittered over Layla and grabbed her by the throat with record speed. She knew it was Sylvia, but it was stronger, denser than it had ever been, and she’d picked up on it faster than ever. Layla had instinctively turned with her camera, poised and ready to shoot, but nothing could’ve prepared her for what she saw, and for the first time, heard through that lens.
Frank Clark. Red-faced. Screaming. Menacing. Physically restraining his weeping, pleading daughter by the shoulders. You’ll do as I say, or we both end up in prison. Backhand smack across the face. Blond hair whipping through the air. Screams… and then… nothing.
The deep bass of the band pumped through the bar, and the sweating bodies writhed around them, blissfully unaware of the private feature Layla had just witnessed. She lowered the camera with shaking hands. Her breath came in short, thready gasps, and the only reason she wasn’t passed out on the floor was because William had somehow gotten to her side. He was holding her up, physically and mentally.
What did you see? William’s soothing baritone floated into her mind, but she couldn’t answer him because she was too fixated on Sylvia, who was staring right back.
Layla struggled to fight through the lingering violence of the vision and leaned against William’s strong body as she watched Sylvia walk directly toward them. His arm linked around her waist easily and held her against him. Layla, what did you see? He asked again, pushing her to answer him.
Layla glanced up and sucked in a shaky breath as she opened her mind to him again. Her father smacked her around pretty good, and she’s terrified. She turned to Dante and Kerry, who had sidled up to her right, and looked primed and ready for a fight. Their energy signatures hummed and pulsed around her in a protective manner. She’s a bitch, but she’s harmless.
Kerry hooked her arm around Dante’s waist. I doubt it. She’s psychic. I can tell by her energy s
ignature. She arched one eyebrow and threw a quick look in Layla’s direction. And don’t even try to tell me you haven’t suspected it.
“I agree with what Kerry said.” Dante exchanged a look with William. Her energy signature is definitely not normal for a human. She’s not a hybrid, but she’s got something beyond a typical human.
Layla heard them loud and clear, and based on William’s energy signature, he’d heard them as well. As Sylvia got closer, Layla saw faint red marks and what looked like a bruise on her left cheek, obviously left over from where her father smacked her. Her large blue eyes, usually filled with disdain, were round with fear as they flicked around the room nervously.
She stood in front of them, looking and acting nothing like the cold-as-ice woman she’d always been. Huddled up in an oversized sweatshirt, she wore no makeup, and she’d definitely been crying. Her blond hair, usually coiffed to perfection, was thrown up in a hair clip and looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in days. Quite frankly, she looked like a hot mess.
“I have to talk to you, Layla.” She sniffled and hugged her arms tighter over her breasts. Please. Her tear-stained eyes flicked over all four of them, and she nibbled on her lip. There’s something I need to tell you.
When Sylvia reached out to them with her mind, Layla’s jaw dropped, William’s body tensed, and Dante and Kerry cursed out loud. Sylvia was telepathic? What the hell? Before Layla could formulate any coherent response, telepathic or otherwise, Sylvia was making a beeline for the door at the back of the bar that led to the enclosed courtyard.
God, I love being right, Kerry teased as they followed Sylvia through the white-paneled door and out into the crisp, fall evening. In the warmer months, the courtyard would be buzzing with customers and the occasional DJ, but since it was so chilly out and a band was playing, it was empty, except for the two smokers hanging by the door.
Sylvia brushed past them, pulled the hood of her sweatshirt on, and headed for one of the leaf-strewn picnic tables to the far right of the courtyard. She slid onto the bench and squished herself far into the corner. Back to the weathered picket privacy fence, she eyed them intently as they sat down. Layla sat next to her, leaving as much space as possible between them. Dante and Kerry slipped into the other side, and William grabbed a lone folding chair and positioned himself at the head of the table.
Their amped-up energy signatures mingled with the brisk wind as it whipped around them and blew leaves onto the table. The only sound was the muffled music coming from inside the bar. They stared blatantly at Sylvia, and it was a moment before anyone said anything. William, seated ramrod straight with his hands folded serenely on the table, was the first to break the silence.
“You’re full of surprises, Ms. Clark.” His voice seemed unusually loud now that they were no longer amid the music and din of people. “I suspected that there was more to you than met the eye, but I must admit—I wasn’t expecting telepathy.”
Her eyes grew rounder. “You heard me too?” She looked from William to Layla. “I only thought you’d be able to hear me, like Raife can.” She shrugged and shook her head quickly. “Or could anyway.” Her gaze lowered to her hands, and her voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I haven’t spoken to him that way for a long time.”
“What?” Layla shouted and looked wildly around the table at her equally surprised friends. “What the hell are you talking about? What is going on?” Her heart thumped in her chest, and her hands curled into fists, ready to pummel her into the ground, if she didn’t come up with answers pretty damn quick. “Start talking.”
“My father,” she said through a shuddering breath. “My father is responsible for Rosie’s attack.” Her blue eyes, rimmed with tears, latched onto Layla. “He’s to blame. He’s to blame for everything.”
Layla’s head was spinning. Frank Clark attacked Rosie, and Sylvia was throwing him under the bus for it?
“Wait. I don’t get it,” Layla said. “Why would your father beat up Rosie? It doesn’t make sense. If he really did this, why on earth would you give up Daddy dearest?” She looked at her with blatant suspicion. “You don’t do anything that he wouldn’t approve of. I mean, you broke Raife’s heart and ditched him at the altar to please your father, so why tell us something that you know will land him in jail?”
“My father has run my life and controlled everything I’ve done from the minute I was born,” she said through a sniffle as she swiped at red-rimmed eyes and turned a stony gaze on Layla. “Who I dated. Who I married and divorced. Everything. My money, where I live—he has controlled it all. Every time I found happiness, my father found a way to ruin it, and every time I ended up alone.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and leaned against the fence. “When I heard about what happened to Rosie, I confronted him. I knew he’d been planning to speak to her about the farm, and when I asked him about it, he went crazy.”
“I know,” Layla said quietly. “I saw what he did to you.” Sylvia’s hand went to the red mark by her eye, and shame washed over her face. “It’s not the first time he’s hit you, is it?”
“No.” Sylvia shook her head, and the tears fell freely. “He’s known about my telepathic ability since I was a child. He told me that I wasn’t normal and that if people ever found out, I would be hounded and dissected like a freak. He had me convinced that he was the only thing keeping me out of the loony bin.” Her tear-filled eyes looked pleadingly at Layla. “But hurting Rosie? That was the last straw.”
“Why on earth would you stay under his roof?” Kerry asked. She placed both elbows on the picnic table, rested her chin on her folded hands, and leveled her bold gaze on Sylvia. “Seriously. Haven’t you been married as many times as Elizabeth Taylor? What the hell? Why didn’t you just ride one of those guys out of town?
“Oh I tried,” she let out a bitter laugh, before turning a dead-serious gaze at them. “But Daddy has a way of getting what he wants, especially from me. My husbands were all lured into big money jobs in Daddy’s company, but soon enough… Daddy would get bored with them, or they’d say something he didn’t like, and they’d be on the chopping block.” Her eyes darted from Kerry to Samantha. “I know how pathetic I must seem to you,” she said shakily. “I should’ve stood up to him years ago when he told those lies to Raife, but I couldn’t, and by then Raife was so mad at me… he wouldn’t let me explain. He told me to stay the hell away from him,” she said, her voice edged with bitterness. “So I have.”
“The wedding,” Layla mused. “You didn’t want to call it off, did you?”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “Daddy did. He told him that lie about me going away for the weekend to get rid of him. I was in love with Raife, and I wanted to marry him more than anything in the world.” Her gaze landed on Layla. “He’s the only man I’ve ever loved,” she whispered and lowered her eyes. “The only reason I flirted with William was to try and make Raife jealous.” She made a sound of disgust. “If he disliked me before, he’s really going to hate me when he finds out that Daddy is the one who put Rosie in the hospital.”
With the numerous revelations, Layla had almost forgotten about this particular part of the web of deceit. “What exactly did your father do?” Layla thought maybe he’d hired some thugs to toss the house or threaten her. She couldn’t imagine that Frank had done it himself. “Who did he send over there?”
“No one,” Sylvia insisted and let out a long breath. “He went over himself to talk some sense into her because she’d told him that she had decided not to sell him the farm. Daddy was desperate to get the land. It had nothing to do with my granddaddy and that stupid bet from years ago.” Her eyes narrowed, and her features sharpened with unmistakable anger. “It was all about the money. Daddy doesn’t have any left.” She laughed through her tears. “It’s all gone. Everything. In addition to gambling in the stock market, he’s taken to hitting the casinos as well. He’s lost almost everything.”
She flicked her gaze to Dante and Kerry, who were listening
with rapt attention.
“Rosie’s farm is smack dab in the middle of Daddy’s other properties, and if Rosie didn’t sell, then the developers couldn’t do what they wanted to do.” She clapped her hands together sharply. “No deal equals no money, and Daddy would be up shit’s creek without a paddle.”
“Oh my God,” Layla said. “He did it. He actually did it.”
“He says he didn’t mean to, of course, that he shoved her. She fell and hit her head.” The tears came again, faster this time, and her words rushed more frantic as the memory of what he told her came barreling back. “He panicked and tried to make it look like a robbery or something.” She turned her pleading gaze to Layla and grabbed her hands. “I would never want anything bad to happen to Rosie. I swear it. Daddy has been home since it happened, and I couldn’t get away until he left tonight for some stupid card game.” She squeezed her hands. “Please, Layla. You have to believe me. I’ll go with you to the police and turn Daddy in,” she said quickly. “I’ll tell them everything. I know how much Rosie means to Raife, and I would never want anything bad to happen to her.”
Layla studied her intently, but found no sign of deception. I believe her. William’s deep baritone touched her mind like a fresh winter breeze. Even though he hadn’t said a word, his presence was much appreciated, and his energy bolstered hers. Layla glanced at him. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I do too. She reached out to Kerry. Kerry, are you buying this?
Kerry extended her arm onto the table. “Gimme your hand.” She snapped her fingers at a teary Sylvia. “Let’s go. Fork it over, blondie. I’ll find out whether you’re telling the truth.”
Sylvia didn’t move but looked at Kerry with genuine confusion until Kerry’s voice cut into her mind. Right now. Sylvia’s eyes widened as she looked around the table.
Untamed (The Amoveo Legend 3) Page 21
