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

Chapter Five

Carter

I stare dimly at the half-drunk Lacey in front of me. He is rambling on about his project here, meandering through topics that hardly pertain to me, but I shouldn’t have expected him to know why I’ve come to his trailer at this hour. He’s obviously not very bright, talking about the woman in business attire who was definitely on her knees at his helm when I barged in.

Not even in the interest of business tonight can I ignore the sight of that woman.

Her hair was the perfect shade of brunette, the soft curls falling just at her upper back when pulled into a ponytail, and her frame was magnificent. She was petite in height and even more in the waist, curving like the strokes of an hourglass built for hungry eyes.

“What was her name?”

Jacob stops mid rant, rubbing at his drowsy, drunken eyes. “Who? My receptionist?” When I don’t reply, he nods along as though I asked for something as trivial as fries with my order. “Oh yeah, that girl. She is just a little office toy I like to keep around—you understand, don’t you? I’ve heard you like to—”

“Her fucking name,” I snort. “Now.”

“Isabella Julis. She’s a twenty-two-year-old college dropout. I hired her about six months ago. She doesn’t know anything about the more shaded areas of our business out here, but she’s a good receptionist.”

“Good on her knees, too?”

Jacob covers his laugh with his hand, but it still leaks through his fingers. “Well, Carter, I don’t know if that’s really the topic of conversation you’re here for tonight. I’m sure you’d like—”

“Don’t tell me what I’d like, Lacey. I don’t answer to you.”

This kid is even lucky I came to him instead of skipping over to his father instead. William Lacey is known throughout my world as a powerful head boss of his family; I’m only here because Frances suggested it. If it weren’t for my piqued interest in his receptionist on her knees, I would have left already.

“Of course, Blackthorne. My apologies. I was just wanting to get down to the reason you’re here tonight. I know we have a mutual contact, Frances Johnson. Is this about his announcement for reelection?”

“It is,” I bite, still focused on her plump, pink lips. They were tucked in fear, and for once, I wasn’t the source of it. Tonight isn’t for the focus of that tight skirt and short heels. I’ll get to that later. “I need some fronting done for his election campaign. My businesses throughout the city all have ties to my family name. I can’t funnel cash through them for this election. It’s too heated.”

“You want us to launder it for you?”

“You already have an account open with the project on the docks nearby, right? If you cut a check in your name to the mayoral candidate, then no one will think twice; we can call it an oversight of budgeting. So I write you a check, you cash it into your bank, sit on it, and then give our dear mayor a sponsorship-worthy donation whenever he needs a boost in ratings. You can keep a five-percent cut.”

Jacob Lacey doesn’t seem like a reasonable, rational man of business, but if he’s anything like his father, he knows a sound money deal when he is offered one. Five percent of a few million dollars would add a nice bump to even the fattest of wallets in this city, and I don’t mind the transactional fee. If we did things the legal way, the government would have a heavier hand on my cash than this brat would.

Jacob leans on his desk, his hands folding and unfolding uncomfortably between us. “Okay, that’s a worthy deal on our end, but I have to ask. What are you getting out of this? I know you work closely with Frances and all, but why do you need him to win so badly?”

I could bolt from this meeting now, maybe chase that interesting pencil skirt down the docks, but I decide to pause my thirst for prey for now and entertain the young Lacey in a valuable lesson.

“My businesses downtown thrive on being fronts for other uses. Gambling halls, escort services, anything a few rolls of cash can buy a man for a night or two. Those places only stay a secret from the law if I have the right man in charge of the law.”

Jacob nods along to my explanation. “The other candidate is an ex-cop. He would do nothing but point the eyes of the law in your direction.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, then we have common interests, after all.” Jacob stands and holds out his hand, but I’m not keen on shaking it just yet. “Is there anything else you need, Blackthorne?”

“One more thing,” I breathe, frustrated by the picture of the brunette receptionist still plaguing my mind. “I want that woman’s file. She filled out some kind of paperwork or contract, right?”

“Isabella Julis? Yeah, I have her cover letter in my file cabinet.”

“Give it to me. Now.”

He cocks his brows in response. “Does she have something to do with this deal? She’s a nobody, a simple receptionist who lives in the cheap, overcrowded apartments just outside of the downtown business district. She has no stake in this business.”

“I really think you should stop talking, or the William Lacey family fortune is going to need a new heir.”

His eyes widen at my words, my casual threat, and I feel no need to give him an explanation anymore. Those bright amber eyes are marked through my running thoughts, and I’m sick of not seeing them in front of me.

He opens his desk drawer and picks through the files without a second word. When the folder is handed over, I leave his humid work trailer. I am thankful for my large office building now after being in something that pathetic. He doesn’t deserve her button nose and blushing cheeks; he should get a simple slut for this simple setup.

I am after a more worthy prize now, and the file in my hand is going to help me achieve that.

Tristan is standing by the cars parked by the harbor while I sift through the papers in the file. I spot one sheet with her picture attached by paperclip, her doe eyes looking frightened in the flash of the photo, her blouse buttoned up all the way to her neck before stopping short of her throat. I can already picture my hand there, fitting perfectly in the depth of her collar.

“Everything went well, boss?”

“Everything is fine, Tristan,” I breathe, holding her picture up to the moonlight. “Did you happen to see a petite woman in a black pencil skirt hop into a car after I went inside?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t get into a car. I figured Jacob hired a girl to wet his dick and that she would stay by the door until you were done, but instead, she grabbed her purse and took off, running down the street toward the city.”

My interest is throttled far past reeling it in. “She’s walking? This late at night?”

“A woman of the docks doesn’t ever fear these parts at night.” Tristan shrugs. “Hell, we have a few of our own connections working the construction sites at all hours of the day and night out here. Not one has ever come back empty handed or roughed up past a point of concern.”

“She’s not an escort,” I bite, my voice cracking with an edge of irritation. “She’s a receptionist.”

“A receptionist scurrying out of Lacey’s office this late at night? I don’t think that adds up, Carter.”

“It doesn’t,” I admit. “But neither does a woman in her early twenties dropping out of architecture classes to take a receptionist job with the Lacey family of hammerheads.” I read aimlessly through her files, fully aware that it’s pulling me underwater quicker than I can come up for air. “Take the car with the other guys. I’m going to make a quick detour on the way back to the office tonight, Tristan.”

His glare narrows with my words. “What are you planning, Carter?”

“Nothing worth pursuing in private is ever worth sharing in public, dear cousin. Go to the office. I’ll be there soon. I’m going to track my prey for the night, but I won’t pull any triggers just yet.”

My cousin wants to stop my intentions, but even with the leniency of our brotherly bond, he doesn’t dare take my eye off the sight of something like this. My business is private, my political intentions are private, and for the time being, my curiosity about this receptionist will remain private as well.