Untamed (20 page)

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 signature.
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.

“You guys aren’t the only freaks at the table.” She sighed loudly and wiggled her fingers impatiently. “We’ll explain it all later. Let’s go. Hold my hand so I can see if you’re being straight with us.”

Layla gave her a reassuring nod, and with a deep breath, Sylvia placed one shaking hand in Kerry’s open palm. Kerry closed her eyes, curled her long fingers over Sylvia’s, and her body jolted as the connection was made. Dante rubbed her back in soothing circles as Kerry’s eyes flickered furiously behind her eyelids.

After several minutes, Kerry released her hand and let out a long whistle as she opened those huge dark eyes and zeroed in on Layla. “Your old man is one cold-hearted bastard,” she bit out through a shaky breath. Kerry looked at William and then Layla. “After what I saw, I’m surprised she’s still alive, let alone has found the nerve to turn him in.”

Sylvia closed her eyes and let out the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you.”

“We need to go directly to the police station so you can tell them what you just told us,” William interrupted. Sylvia looked at him with that same panicked expression she’d had earlier, but William wasn’t backing down. He turned that penetrating gaze onto Sylvia. “Right now.” It came out as a command, not a request.

Sylvia nodded, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and rose from the bench obediently. Layla shuddered at how quickly Sylvia followed William’s command. She’d been controlled and manipulated for so many years that it seemed like all she knew how to do was follow orders. Sylvia had always presented an image of being in control, but it was clear that she had been anything but that.

Now Layla really felt sorry for her. As much as her own life had been manipulated, Layla had never suffered the kind of abuse and domineering control that Sylvia had.

William took Layla’s hand in his and linked his fingers with hers. He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. The simple gesture of holding her hand spoke volumes. Layla swallowed the lump in her throat and rose to meet him. She popped up on her toes and placed a quick kiss on his warm lips.
Thank
you.
Her words whispered along the edges of his mind as a smile softened the sharp edges of that handsome face.