Page 51 of Nicoletta
My father aims the gun at the crowd. “Don’t anyone try to intervene.” He pulls me closer to him.
“Clark, let your daughter go,” a woman shouts from below. “You don’t want to hurt your own daughter.”
My father grounds out a harsh laugh. “Daughter? She’s notmy daughter. She’s the result of another one of my faithless wife’s affairs.”
Shock envelops me. Forgetting the gun, I twist out of his grasp and face him. “What?”
“You’re no more my daughter than anyone else in this room.” Clark’s face twists in rage. “I only played along all those years ago to save face with my family. How would it look if, not only did the heir to the Williams fortune marry a stripper, but that stripper fathered a child with another man?”
“I don’t believe it,” I spit out, but deep down, I know it’s true—and I’m glad.
“Your mother was nothing but a worthless whore. She tricked me into marrying her, then tried to pass you off as my child.” He shakes his head. “But I found out the truth when your sperm donor bum of a father came around trying to blackmail her and me.” Clark flings his hand at Bolt. “Your real father is a criminal just like him.”
My mind is spinning so fast I can’t keep up.
“I couldn’t have a scandal of that magnitude get out, so I took care of him too.” My father’s eyes shine bright under the lights. “Two days later, he was involved in a fatal crash on Mulholland.”
I suck in a short breath, not believing my ears. I’d never know for sure if that man was my father, but one thing I do know—Clark Williams is deranged and unhinged.
His crazed smile widens. “He got what he deserved, just like that weasel Brad. Greedy fucker. I thought I could placate him with you, but no. He wanted more money, when it was me doing all the work. Me taking all the chances.”
“Mr. Williams.” The guards circle my father as Bolt comes up from behind him. “You need to calm down and give us the gun.” One guard holds out his hand while the other moves in closer.
“I had the perfect plan. Demand your mother go to Brad’s beach house and break it off with him. Leave the knife, and call the cops. But, no, you had to show up and ruin everything.”
“Mr. Williams, we don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“I’m tired of doing all the work, and everyone always wanting more. My whore of a wife, her ungrateful daughter, and even you.” He points the gun at Stuart. “Making me do all the dirty jobs while you profit.”
Stuart Hinchman goes pale under his golfer’s tan.
“And you two.” Clark points the gun at George Davenport and Tom Hansen. “One party wasn’t enough to satisfy you. No, you had to have more drugs, more women. Ha, not even women. You wanted them younger and younger, and who did you turn to?” Clark waves the gun at them. “Me. It was always me who made all the parties happen.”
There’s an audible gasp throughout the ballroom.
“Me who made sure you had the drugs and the sex. Twosomes, threesomes, it didn’t matter as long as you all got what you wanted.” Clark points the gun at the senators and elected officials crowded around the stage. “Most of you were part of it too. Looking the other way as long as you got off in the privacy of my listed properties.”
“Mr. Williams, you need to settle down,” the guard warns.
“I’m not?—”
In a flash, the guard pounces from the side as Bolt grabs Clark from behind. He shoots wildly, the cracking sound filling the ballroom. Women squeal.
Another shot hits the ceiling. Lights pop and explode overhead before the guard wrestles the gun out of his fist.
Bolt grips the lapels of Clark’s tuxedo. “You ever come near her again, and you’re over.”
“This man is threatening me.” Clark tries to squirm out of Bolt’s hold.
“No threat, asshole, that’s a promise.” He shakes Clark hard. “And just for the record, the Royal Bastards are a motorcycle club, not a gang.”
Bolt shoves Clark to the guard, then holds me at arm’s length. “Are you all right?”
I nod once, and he angles me toward the stairs.
One of the guards steps in our path. “You two aren’t going anywhere until we question both of you thoroughly.”
The guard reaches for me, and Bolt pushes him off. One brutal shove, and the man folds.
