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

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Carter

“Taking your sweet ass time to get ready isn’t going to make the event go by any faster, dove.” I adjust my tie in the mirror and run a hand over my face. “I don’t want us to be late.”

The door to the bathroom clicks, and Bella steps out, dressed in a floor-length shimmering silver gown with a plunging neckline. Her hair is left in loose waves around her delicate face, and she has some color on her cheeks and eyelids, making her look more alluring than ever. I twist to face her, and a shiver races up my spine, my fingers itching at my sides.

I want to lay her out on the mattress, rip off the dress, and spend hours on end losing myself in her body.

When she bridges the distance between us and offers me a bright smile, I have to clench my hands into fists. Not only would ravaging her make us late for the gala, but I also know it’ll leave Tristan and the other men accompanying us tonight in a bad mood.

I’m well aware of what’s at stake when it comes to Mayor Hughes.

And all too aware of how important it is for me to put on a calm and unaffected demeanor, to make sure the prick doesn’t know how badly he’s rattled us.

Or how badly I want to put his face through a wall.

All I need is to get close enough, and I’ll teach Killian Hughes that there is a price to be paid for crossing a man like me. For now, though, I need to put on a smile and my best suit and pretend like nothing bothers me. Straightening my back, I hold my arm out to Isabella, who tucks her hand into my elbow and allows me to lead her down the stairs and into the elevator. She earns a few cursory glances on her way past, and I level all of them with a pointed look.

Anyone who looks at her ends up cowering in a corner.

I smirk and lead her down the stairs of the building and into the black SUV parked next to the curb. Ernesto is wearing a suit and looking very pleased with himself as we get into the car. When he pulls away from the curb, Isabella settles into my side and brings her head to rest against my chest, over the hammering of my heart.

With a frown, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and exhale. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, dove. We’ve been to galas before.”

Isabella snorts. “And we don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to them.”

I plunge my fingers through her hair and massage her scalp. “Yes, but our dear old mayor isn’t going to come after me in public. Not if he wants to make sure none of this leads back to him.”

Isabella leans back to look at me, and a furrow appears between her brows. “You sound awfully sure. Is there something I should know?”

One hand falls from her waist down to her ass, and I squeeze. “It’s nothing to trouble yourself with, dove. Try and have a good time tonight.”

Isabella gives me a dubious look and settles back into my side. I play with her hair for a while longer and ignore the molten hot desire racing through me. When Ernesto pulls up outside the hotel where the gala is being held, reporters are lined up on either side of the red carpet, being held back by a team of uniformed security men and women.

Cameras click away steadily, and there’s already a loud cacophony of voices, barely muted beyond the car’s windows. I glance over at Isabella, who has squared her shoulders and lifted her chin like a soldier headed to war. I bring her hand up to my lips and press a kiss there. She gives me a pleading look, and I’m tempted to oblige.

Circling the block a few times can’t hurt.

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I spot Tristan and Paul standing side by side in their crisp dark suits and wearing identical tight expressions. With a growl, I get out of the car and hold my hand out to Isabella. Immediately, the cameras shift toward us, and I feel her resist the urge to shrink into my side. We glide down the red carpet and are stopped in the doorway. I glance over my shoulders at Tristan and the others, and they hurry over to us.

Suddenly, we’re being led away through a side door, with a few of the same uniformed men and women I saw earlier forming a half-circle around us. We earn a few curious looks, and I grip Isabella’s hand tighter. She laces her fingers through mine and doesn’t say a word. Tristan and Paul are on either side of us, studying the path that we’re taking.

After taking a series of twists and turns, we are brought to a stop outside a large empty room with chairs piled up on either side of us. Without warning, we are shoved in, and I swivel around, the gun already in my hand, only to find the door slammed shut in my face. Tristan and I launch ourselves at the door, but it won’t budge. Paul murmurs something to Isabella, but I can barely hear anything above the dull roaring in my ears.

What the fuck now?

Can’t we have one fucking night to ourselves?

I take a few steps back and turn to face Isabella. “I’m going to get us out of here, dove. This is just our new friend trying to flex and show us how powerful he is.”

Even from a distance, Hughes is a threat.

I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until his eyes bulge and he loses the color in his face. When I get out of here, I’m going to make it my personal mission to hunt him down and teach him the meaning of the Blackthorne name.

Tristan and Paul try the other doors in the room while I hold Bella to me and rub her arms. She is shivering and hasn’t said a word since we left the car. By the time I get her to calm down, the doors to the room fly open, and a few stern-looking men step in, all of them with broad shoulders, muscles, and guns tucked into the waist of their pants.

I step in front of Isabella and point a finger at the guy in the center. “Has the mayor sent us another gift already? I’m flattered that he thinks so highly of me.”

The bald-headed man I’m facing tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Blackthorne, but I can’t say I’m impressed. It’s quite a mess you’ve made for yourself and all because of her.”

I let out a warning growl. “I’d watch the next words that come out of your mouth if I were you.”

“The Natoris were right,” he continues, as if he hasn’t heard me. “The city is ripe for the taking but not without a little assurance first.”

“You take one more step, and it’ll be your last.” I point my gun directly at him and level him with a pointed look. “It’s a shame to ruin these expensive shoes, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

The man nods, and the doors behind us burst open, allowing a few more men in. I wheel around to reach for Isabella, but she’s snatched away from me and held at gunpoint. Another man holds a knife up to her long, slender neck, and her eyes grow wide as saucers.

The bald-headed man takes a step forward and shoves a hand into his pocket. “Let’s try this again, Blackthorne, because I don’t think you understood me the first time. You’re going to give us all your contacts and all the information that you’ve gathered over the years.”

I lower my gun and scoff. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

The man shoots the men in the back a look, and one of them cocks the gun pointed at Isabella. She lets out a low whimper, and it pierces through my heart. I straighten my back, shove my free hand into my pocket, and press my lips together.

“We know your little whore is the key. If you don’t give us what we want, we’re not going to be the only ones coming after her. I believe you know the Philips family, too.”

“I’m going to enjoy making you pay,” I tell him, pausing to offer him a grim smile. “Every last one of you is going to pay.”

The bald man stares at me for a long time.

Silence stretches between us.

Then Isabella is knocked to her knees, and the gun is pressed to the back of her head. She refuses to lower her head until her attacker hits her on the back of the head, and I see red. Tristan and Paul shoot me quick looks, but I don’t hold their gazes.

I’m going to personally hunt down every last one of them.

Isabella’s attacker hits her again, this time across the side of her face. A bruise is already forming there, so I dig my nails into my palms. “You’re wasting your time.”

Isabella gives me a wounded look. “Carter, please. Don’t tell them anything.”

She is slapped again, hard enough to have her crumble into a heap on the floor. I stop breathing when she doesn’t get back up right away. Then she sits up, blood and spittle forming on the side of her mouth, and gives the man behind her a withering look. When she draws her head back and spits at his feet, he advances on her and kicks her in the stomach.

Isabella doubles over and lets out a low hiss of pain. “He’s not going to tell you anything. Go to hell.”

The bald-headed man steps forward. “I can see why you like her. She’s feisty. Maybe we’ll take her with us when we leave.”

I have the gun pointed at his head before I know what I’m doing. “Back the fuck off.”

The man doesn’t bat an eye as he signals to the other men. Isabella is tossed around like some sort of rag doll, with the men taking turns kicking and hitting her. It takes everything in me not to launch myself at them, taking as many of the bastards down as I can. It’s the look in Isabella’s eyes that stops me. That and the fact that I have several guns pointed at me.

I’d be a pin cushion before I got close enough to make any difference.

Everyone in the room knows it.

One of the men moves to rip Isabella’s dress, and the door flies open, Blackthorne men steadily pouring through them. I disarm the men closest to me and throw myself at their leader. We land on the floor with a thud, and fists fly as we grapple for control. Once we roll to a stop, he kicks me away and staggers off. I can only see red until Tristan places a hand on my arm and yells into my ear.

The room sharpens into focus, and I see Paul on the floor with Isabella, trying to rouse her. I march over to them, scoop her into my arms, and let her head fall against my chest. She is covered in blood, and her breathing is steady but uneven. Rage and fear claw their way through me as we get into the backseat of the SUV, and Ernesto speeds through the streets of the city.

A gurney is waiting for us outside the double doors of the emergency room. I’m out of the car before Ernesto brings it to a complete halt, and the tires screech against the asphalt. I set Isabella down, but her hand is still in mine until we push through the doors. The smell of disinfectant hits me first, followed closely by the sound of beeping monitors.

Tristan materializes next to me. “What do you need us to do?”

“Give those guys a taste of their own medicine,” I hiss under my breath. “I want the Philipses and the Natoris to know exactly who they’re dealing with. Take fucking Donahue with you.”

Because I’m not leaving Bella’s side for a second.

And it’s time our alliance with Rich fucking Donahue came in handy.