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

Chapter Sixty-Five

Carter

Sending off my guys to scope the party out, I watch them blend into the crowd. Frances really didn’t let any expense go to waste. There are large tables and sheer curtains all over the place, funneling the attendees into thick, compact crowds that make it hard to track my family as they infiltrate.

There’s a certain sheer curtain in particular, just wide enough to take the sight of my personal collage to play against. Ernesto signals that he found a projector, running a hand through his hair three times in a row.

I spy Lorenzo, flicking my wrist out for him to follow Ernesto’s lead. Nicolas has his phone pulled out, sticking it in the air once I know he has the connection cleared and everything set up to press play. Now, I just wait for the projector to get ready, Lorenzo making it a point to stand next to the DJ.

Once the wheels are turning, Frances is fucked, and it’ll be too late to save his ass from a reputational nightmare. The media has been cut loose in the event, taking photos and making news segments to play in the morning.

I lean against the railing upstairs, waiting for the world to flip upside down for poor Frances Johnson.

It’ll be a waste of the millions of dollars I spent ensuring he would win this race, but if I’m going down, then I may as well take him with me. He doesn’t know how far I’m willing to self-sabotage to prove a point, and no matter how much prison time I’m handed over after this video plays, I’ll happily serve my time in the cell next to Mayor Johnson’s.

All I have to do is free Isabella from Jacob’s grasp. Anita can watch her for me when I go to prison, and maybe one day in the far future, she will forgive me for tonight’s actions.

For everything I’m about to cut loose.

Ernesto gives the final signal, and I relay it to Lorenzo and Nicholas. The music is cut, the lights dim, and the projector shines over the white, sheer curtain over everyone’s heads.

The video montage plays in no specific order, releasing every file on my secret drive that contains every little bit of dirt I have ever acquired and buried on Frances Johnson.

I spy on the mayor as he confusingly watches the first file play out, a nice little clip of him nailing his secretary in the elevator of his office. His wife throws her drink in his face and prances off, but she really should have stuck around for the juicy stuff.

This is just the warm-up.

I’ve got signed documents of Frances embezzling public tax dollars, pictures of him paying for prostitutes on the corner of Fifth and Sixth Avenues, and a damning video I just know will take the cake.

“Kill him,” his voice insists over the loudspeaker.

I fire the gun, shooting that rat in the head in the confines of his office.

It doesn’t take long for the police to descend on the crowd. I can only get a good second of his panic in view before he’s pinned to the floor and handcuffed in the middle of the event. Everyone is yelling and screaming for the mayor’s blood, doing my work for me, really.

I just wish he could watch me enjoy his demise, but it’s time for me to leave this dead-end party.

Months of fixing the election are down the drain. I wouldn’t have it any other way, that is, unless my dove was perched under my arm, watching it unfold with me. She will be happy to see me again, even more happy when I put a bullet in Jacob’s temple.

Ernesto meets me outside the venue, the entire crowd inside leaking out by now. There’s cheering and laughing and even some tears from the hardcore loyals, but they’re not the only ones who have had their world flipped tonight. It’s just nice to know I’m not the only one who is going through this bullshit.

I’m just the catalyst of most of it.

Lorenzo pats my shoulder, frowning deeply while he stares at the ground. Nicolas doesn’t look any more relieved than before, and Ernesto is just as perturbed as the others. All our hard work keeping secrets and pushing that prick to the limelight is gone in sixty seconds.

Feels like a waste, but it’s all for the best, my mind’s eye focusing on only one last goal.

“I have to go to her,” I hiss. “Jacob’s not expecting me yet, but when word spreads that this election has just imploded, he’s going to know something is up. I can’t let him take it out on Isabella.”

Nicolas has his phone out already, looking through the trending-news section of his search engine. “Hasn’t hit the mainstream yet. We have thirty minutes before it’s edited and sent to the breaking news stations. Even less before it’s trending on social media.”

“Then we need to get going,” Ernesto gulps.

“Just me,” I bark, each of them exchanging confused glances. “I need you all to get to the office and destroy the harder copies. Leave the electronic files on Lacey and Johnson. The rest is burned. Understand?”

Lorenzo shakes his head. “You can’t go after her alone. You’ll be outnumbered.”

“I need to do it alone,” I breathe, watching the crowd disperse on the sidewalk.

Once they’re all gone, I’ll be a prime police target. Frances is too busy being dragged out the side door, screaming and thrashing through the angst of his failure. Frankly, the only reason he was ever winning was because of me.

Everything I give can be taken away just as fast, if not faster.

“I can get her back,” I say, sure of that claim. “Just go take care of the office. I’m going to go play with the Lacey family. Just write down the address, and I’ll get there.”

Nicolas does so, bowing his head in defeat.

They eventually all give in, Ernesto tossing me his keys. When I find the SUV in the parking lot, I spin it out into the street, doing everything in my power to cut through alleyways and hop over curbs, kicking the car up at the fastest speed possible until I’m back on the Upper East Side.

Jacob’s neighborhood isn’t even gated, let alone guarded well. My spare work phone is blowing up on notifications, tucked away in the console of the car and vibrating endlessly. It’s not a good sign, but as long as Jacob stays under his rock, then Isabella might remain somewhat unharmed.

That is assuming she hasn’t already been attacked by that dead prick.

I look through the ammunition in my pistol, counting the bullets and naming each of them after one of Jacob’s body parts. I save the last one for his forehead, ready to eradicate the world of his uselessness.

I should have done it the first day I met him, seeing him pin Isabella on the floor at his knees. He would have forced her to do anything and everything at that moment, just over a lousy few hundred dollars. If he had gotten her to go all the way, I would have put a bullet in his throat then.

Seeing her bent over his desk, wounded and shaking all over, it was over in my mind. Jacob Lacey was going to die by my hands, no matter if it took a week, a month, or an eternity.

I load a bullet into the chamber, studying it before I release the barrel, and it snaps into place.

“Alright, Lacey. Let’s end this.”