Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Three

Carter

The blond secretary cannot keep her eyes off me. It’s becoming a nuisance. She’s too tall, her hair is too light, and she looks like a lovesick puppy from a bad romance movie. She’s trying too hard, for starters, and her cheap perfume laces through the air and strikes at my nostrils.

I lean forward, covering my face with my palm, hiding from the smell and from showing the grimace that crosses my features. Tristan chuckles lightly to himself, my closest cousin and right-hand man. My familiar business partner is also amused with the vivacious pencil skirt behind the desk.

He hovers at the top of the hierarchy in the family. Though the Blackthornes are a large group as a whole, I tend to stick with the men I know and trust to do business with. My immediate family may be nonexistent, but my extended family makes up for it in numbers.

“Mayor Johnson better be ready soon, or I’m sending you in as a proxy,” I growl, looking anywhere but toward the secretary. “Remind me to have her fired.”

Tristan leans back in his seat. “You may call the shots with Mayor Frances Johnson, but when you start dipping into the personnel department, it might raise some red flags. Here, you want some help?”

He grabs my blazer sleeve, yanking it back and rolling my cufflink between his thumb and index finger. I glance up, watching the secretary slowly lose the charm of her features, cowering behind her desk and computer screen as Tristan brushes my coat with his hand and leaves it be.

I eye the set of black roses that form my cufflinks, never been prouder of my nickname in this city.

“That was a cheap trick,” I laugh. “Although certainly efficient.”

“The Blackthorne family name carries a lot of weight behind it, but your reputation speaks for itself, Carter. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to flirt with your lousy reject and get laid tonight.”

He elbows me with a smirk while the office doors pry open. Mayor Frances waves for me to follow, his purple-rung eyes tired with bloodshot streaks around the irises. His office smells of cigars and cheap liquor, all perfect qualities for the mayor of Manhattan. He’s a small-time chess piece, and he dresses like it, too, adjusting his gray pattern coat and plopping into his worn leather chair.

I stalk toward the long window, eyeing the city as it lives in the afternoon.

“I heard your announcement for reelection on the news.” I pick up his cheap choice of liquor, swirling it around the tacky glass pitcher. “You don’t really drink this shit, do you?”

“I’ll drink anything I can get my hands on, Carter.” He presses his elbows into the desk, gazing off into the far wall as though an open bar sits there, calling to him. “You hear what they’re saying about me on channel five? A washed-up businessman, a has-been, who shouldn’t even run for city council. Fucking city council, Carter. I’ve been reduced to being with those people who dictate what goes into school lunches.”

“It’s only day one of your campaign. You need to get thicker skin than that, Frances. They’re going to say a lot worse about you, especially if they catch the two of us talking in your office.”

I am proud of my adoptive name. Blackthorne runs through the veins of this city because of me, because of my work, and I’ll be damned if my power is cut and left to bleed out because of this spineless mayor. He is a lousy mayor for the common man, but for me and my business, he’s perfect.

“I want you to find someone to endorse as your sponsor, and I’ll get in contact with them today.”

Frances hesitates, his mind wandering elsewhere. “How much are you going to traffic into my campaign this time? It will have to be enough to change the minds at channel five and the other channels as well. This is going to be an uphill battle, Blackthorne. I’m not sure we’re going to win.”

“You’re running against an ex-cop,” I mutter through my gritted teeth. “If you think I’m going to let this position slide for that pig, you’re very wrong, Frances. You win this election, keep my harbor open, and tilt the eye of the law elsewhere.”

“I’m trying, Carter, but with this reelection, I don’t know if—”

“Shut up!”

He flinches, his fear palpable in the air now. I know the scent well.

“You tell me the sponsor you want, and I’ll funnel enough money to silence the news channels, and then I will personally go after any other naysayers myself until those poll numbers come out with you on the fucking top. Got it, Mayor?”

He shivers a nod. “Fine, Carter. I understand. I’m working with a company now that is overseeing the downtown district proposal. They’ve agreed to demolish the old bank and build a high rise over by the harbor. They’re an underground player, like your family.”

“Sounds perfect,” I reply simply. “Send me the information and an address. I’ll go down there and talk to them myself. Just make sure you keep your lips shut about our little talk today, and the press will have no issues painting you out to be the great Mayor Johnson everyone wants to vote for.”

“Just take it easy with these guys,” he says, speaking low like he’s insulting my intelligence, and he is. “They’re not that smart, but they are powerful. They deal with drugs, lowlife pills for junkies by the harbor.”

I subdue a laugh. “And these lowlifes are affiliated with the great mayor of Manhattan?”

“No, just their construction company, that’s it. They have a few dealers that are small time; I look out for them in the jails and keep their records clean. In return, they funnel money into my campaign, the same as you. Just make sure you write the check out to the boss, William, and not his snotty son.”

“Sticky fingers?”

“He’s a brat,” Frances says like it’s a curse. “He is trying to run the Lacey family business, but he doesn’t have the balls. He’s a rich kid, nothing more.”

“If he’s a problem, I’ll handle it,” I suggest, pouring a glass of syrupy, thick bourbon.

Frances goes stiff with my words. “Now, I never said to go kill the guy. His father does good work, and his son isn’t bad at the construction jobs I give them. I want this deal to go through so I can win reelection. If that happens, we all benefit.”

“Don’t remind me.” I press the glass down in front of Frances, watching his eyes widen like a shark sees blood in the water. Peering through the fogged glass of his door, I can see Tristan leaning on the secretary’s desk, watching her curl in a chuckle. “And fire the whore. She is an attention seeker, and that is nothing you need around here.”

The mayor gasps after his first gulp, the alcohol half gone already. “She’s a good girl, Carter. She hasn’t got a clue what we’re doing around here, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Fire her, or I’ll eliminate the slut myself,” I snap. “Get yourself an old hag of a personal assistant. And make sure it’s one that you keep your dick out of.”

“What are you implying—”

“She’s wearing a red lace bra, and her skirt is hiked up over her knees,” I groan, running off the quick glance I gave her when I arrived at his office today. “She has fake tits and a plastic nose—this money is for your reelection, not to get your cock wet. Understand me?”

His head falls with my words. “Okay, Blackthorne. I’ll fire her.”

“Let Tristan have some fun with her first,” I breathe, sticking up for my best friend who lacks certain standards. “When she comes back from lunch, fire her.”

I leave his office at once, giving Tristan a nod on my way out. He stays behind, flirting with the giggling secretary. She’s too plastic for my liking, and too cheerful at that. Otherwise, she still isn’t my type at all, and I wouldn’t fuck her if I had to. Thankfully, Tristan is easier to swoon. There’s not a short-skirt secretary he won’t bend over a desk.

I have other flavors in mind, but for now, I have business to attend to.