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

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Isabella

Jacob sits up, still keeping me pinned under his weight. “What the hell are you doing here? You just broke down my door!”

“I came to get what’s mine, of course,” William hums, gleaming. “I hired the whore in the first place, and now you think you’ve got some kind of claim. She’s mine.”

The younger Lacey snarls, fighting as I adjust, needing to get him off me before it’s too late. They have treated me the same, wanting to pin me over a desk like I was hired for their sexual vanity. Instead, I pushed their advances off as best as I could, only truly successful when Carter came into the office that day.

Without him, I would have been defiled far worse and way sooner.

“You can have her when I’m done,” Jacob snickers, brushing a palm down my cheek.

“Fuck you,” William barks. “Get off of her. I’ve gone through hell and back just so you can have that whore, and I’ve got five dead bodies I have to dispose of for now because you pissed off her boyfriend!”

Jacob snarls, leaning back and releasing my wrists, so he can address his father. It’s too easy for me to strike, slamming my fists into his groin and watching him fall sideways off my waist with a holler.

I inch myself back, not even making it to my feet before William comes stomping over, slamming his palm into my face. I wince, curling into a half-naked ball on the floor at his feet. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes while Jacob curses and sneers and screams in agony.

“Dammit, boy. You can’t even fuck her correctly. I’ll have to show you how it’s done.”

“You might want to leave that to me,” a new voice inserts, so rough and deep and wonderful. Carter turns into the doorway, his gun raised, firing an unflinching shot into Jacob’s shoulder. Blood covers the floor in a minute, and William’s eyes widen in horror as his son gasps and struggles to breathe. “Stay right there, William, or you’re next.”

Jacob’s father steps back, his chest moving at a rapid pace as he suffers a hyperactive episode of fear and shock.

Carter smiles while William watches Jacob slowly pass out, undoubtedly dying before our eyes, considering the amount of blood leaking across his chest.

“How dare you—” William starts.

Carter doesn’t hesitate, firing two shots into William’s chest. He staggers backward, not falling right away, but when he does, he almost lands on my legs. I curl into the corner of the room. Jacob is still breathing, but his father is slumped backward in the bed, his body unmoving.

Carter kicks Jacob onto his back, a loud groaning noise and some crimson spitting up from his lips. There’s something cathartic about Carter watching Jacob suffer, something that proves there is more behind their rivalry than just the guns and politics.

I mean something to Carter Blackthorne. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ever come for me.

“I want you to know,” he whispers, speaking down to Jacob as he chokes on his blood. “Micah and his guys tried to break into my family’s estate, and he met his fate too. Donovan is dead because I shot him in the neck. And your filthy excuse of a father is waiting for you in hell, Jacob.”

The last Lacey only chokes on the blood gurgling up from his throat, inhaling to try to speak, but he fails to say anything in time.

“Shh,” Carter hums. “It’s done now.”

I look away, plugging my ears while six or seven shots are littered into his body. When the noise stops, warm hands reach for me, and I gasp, screaming out of impulse before the hands yank my face from my bent knees, seeing Carter’s beautiful, stormy eyes.

“Hey, dove,” he pants, shaking his head. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”

I reach for his face, something so calming about his features even when specked with Lacey blood. He leans forward, impatient to my lingering, hesitant touch, his lips greeting mine at last. I try not to throw myself at him completely, but it doesn’t matter. He yanks me off the floor into his arms, my feet pulled from the floor and my legs encasing his hips.

He carries me from the bloodshed, setting me down in the living room, where he finally lets me breathe.

He undoes the belt around my wrists, watching me flinch and hiss as my wounded arm takes the brunt of the ache. Looking over my body, hidden through loose curtains of what used to be my dress, I lean into his chest, letting his gentle palm feel over every scratch, bruise, and mark.

“Did he—”

“No,” I pant, thankful that I don’t need him to finish that sentence for me to know what he’s referring to. “He came close, but I punched him in the dick.”

He smiles wearily, brushing my hair back while his fingertips caress the scratches on my shoulders and chest. He toys with the necklace he put on me before, the only thing intact left on my body.

“How did you get so scratched up?”

My eyes find the doorway to the wine cellar, a small head tilt leading him to part from my side for a moment. I tremble while he’s away, still within arm’s reach but not nearly enough for me to see his face until he turns back around.

He smiles with an ounce of surprise flustered into the mix. “Did you do that?”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “He locked me down there, so I wanted to make him pay.”

Coming back to me, he lifts me off the couch, refusing to let me walk. I sit in his lap, happy to be held by him, and he refuses to let me go again. In his arms and strewn over his legs, even while he sits in the car, I make a promise to myself to never leave his side again.

We both came far too close to losing one another.

“Is it true? About what Micah did?”

“Yeah, dove. It’s true. He and a few of his family members stormed Anita’s house. No one was hurt. Tristan said he held them back, and Anita actually fired the first shots. It’s all over now; everyone is gone. We can finally relax.”

My brows pinch. “What about Frances?”

He hesitates, turning the key into the ignition. “He’s alive, Bella.”

“What are we going to do about him? He will kill me; he said it himself!”

He pulls me tighter into his chest, kissing my temple as he steadies a hand on the wheel better. I could move over and make this task easier, but I don’t know if he would allow that. I nestle into his warmth and decline to move, even if he asks me to—though I know he won’t.

“He’s not going to hurt you, dove. He can’t. Just trust me for now, okay?”

I nod, always falling so easily to his whims. If he says I’m safe, then I believe it. Carter is the strongest hand in Manhattan again, unprotested, so any worries I could be upset over couldn’t be much worse than everything we’ve gone through so far.

The Phillipses, Mayor Johnson—the Lacey clan that has undoubtedly been mostly wiped out by now.

It’s a message to the city, to every shadow figure in New York City. Anyone who crosses Blackthorne is killed, maimed, or missing.

All except Frances Johnson, whom Carter seems uninterested in talking about right now. I can’t imagine what pain he inflicted on the soon-to-be mayor; I just hope it doesn’t lead back to the man I love. Which reminds me, I haven’t even told him that, but I intend to, resting my eyes for now while he drives through the city at midnight.

I wake up in a soft, comfortable bed, my body cleaned of my wounds and taken out of my dress. Instead, I’m wearing a long T-shirt, turning over in the arms that cage my hips from behind. Carter’s dark hair and deep, dreary eyes so subtly washed and combed into cleanliness and relaxation.

He hums in his sleep, his eyes only fluttering open when my lips brush the end of his nose.

He forces a grin and presses his forehead to mine. “Good morning, dove.”

“Morning,” I croak, my voice rough and sharp. “Where are we?”

I can only see flickers of the bedroom where we lay, trying to make sense of everything in my mind while the world seems to never want to stop turning.

“Anita’s,” he whispers.

My heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing Sam again, and I sit up, admiring the little bandages pressed over every scratch that litters my skin from the wine cellar. Carter pulls me back into the bed, caging me once more so I can’t escape from his chest.

“Don’t leave the bed yet, dove.”

“Okay,” I breathe, not needing to argue anything—I want to forever stay in bed with him. “Are you okay?”

His brows tense and then relax seconds later, his body coming flush with mine. “Of course I am. I have you back, Isabella. Everything is perfect.”

“I agree,” I purr, meeting his lips with mine.

His tongue parts my mouth, and he kisses me deeper, swirling a taste through my throat while he shifts over me with his body, pushing a deeper, greedier kiss into my mouth. I dare to choke, to let him steal my breath, but my lungs hitch when I feel his legs parting my knees.

The dampness against my silk panties is easier to feel now, my body naturally wet and hot when I’m in Carter’s hold. His hand disappears under the covers before it reappears against my sex, sliding up the damp folds between my thighs and rubbing my core a little harder than normal.

He’s milking an orgasm out of me before even pulling himself out of his pants. I slide my legs around his waist and pull his hips down, panting with ecstasy at the mere brush of his erection coming into contact with my parted, expectant pussy.

“Hey,” he whispers, tenderly kissing my neck along the ridge of my jaw. “I want to tell you something.”

My heart leaps over a beat, and I moan, his fingers sliding in and out of my sex before working to free himself. His erection prods out against my inner thigh and then submits himself into my pussy. I arch my back and moan aloud, the noise so sweet and necessary, his lips turning into a smile as he hovers them against my cheek, just in front of my ear.

“I love you, dove.”

He flicks his hips inward, thrusting deep inside me without intent to stop. His words, his movements, send me over the edge, and I pique at his will, coming with too much ease.

“I love you too, Carter.”

His pace doesn’t stop. It only escalates, plummeting his throbbing cock into the furthest reach of my sex, kneading out orgasm after orgasm before we’re both covered in a damp sheen of sweat and panting for air. I tangle my fingers into his hair, his hands working at my sensitive clit and begging for me to come more.

I couldn’t hold back even if I ever wanted to, which I don’t.

His warmth shoots through my body and mixes with my own, the two of us collapsing into a single, weary organism in bed, twitching and damp and satisfied as always.

“I love you,” I say again, just happy to hear those words in my voice. “I love you so much.”

He smiles, though it’s a little saddened around the edges. “I love you, Bella. There’s just something that—”

A harsh knock on the door startles me, and I yelp. Carter pulls the blankets over his hips and tucks his perfect cock back into his pants. When he stands, shirtless and sweaty, he opens the door only slightly, seeing a flash of Tristan’s face behind the door.

“It’s time,” Tristan mutters. “They’re here.”

Carter hangs his head but nods, pulling the door open. He comes back to me, pulling me from bed and placing me on my feet. I fall into his tight, suffocating embrace for what feels like forever, confused by what they’re trying to say.

Who is here, and where is my lover going?

“I have to do something, dove,” he mumbles. “I made a decision at the event, something that would make Frances suffer for double-crossing me and trying to have you killed.”

My stomach falls. “Oh god, what did you do?”

“Carter,” Anita calls, her voice carrying up the stairwell. “Come down here!”

He kisses my cheek, takes my hand, and leads us down the stairs. I watch Tristan’s face, needing a hint as to what is going on, my stomach flipping cartwheels in my gut. We turn the corner, Carter’s hand clutching mine a little tighter.

I spy Anita, her face downtrodden. Tristan inches off to the side, Sam unusually clinging to him, like they’ve gotten close in this safehouse, but that doesn’t matter to me right now. I can only focus on the police officers in the foyer, yanking Carter away from me.

My panic sets in. Some of them are in uniform, while others are in suits. I spy an FBI badge on one of them, the man who presses Carter’s chest into the wall and slaps the metal bracelets onto his wrists behind his back.

He’s being arrested right before my eyes, and I can’t protect him.