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

Chapter Thirty-Three

Carter

“What the fuck do you want?” I fold my arms over my chest and give Tristan a menacing look. “Didn’t I tell you that I don’t want to be bothered?”

Tristan exhales and doesn’t break our gaze. “I know what you said, but I figured you weren’t being serious. You’re the one who went after the Philipses and Natoris, remember?”

I growl. “What’s your point?”

“You can’t decide to start a war and leave before we’ve even begun to strategize.” Tristan steps into the house and kicks the door shut behind him. “It doesn’t work like that, Carter. You have to finish what you started. You’re the fucking head of the Blackthorne family, and you need to act like it.”

I have Tristan shoved against the wall before the words finish leaving his lips. Then I draw my hand back and land a punch to my cousin’s jaw. He doesn’t flinch, and he doesn’t even acknowledge the hit, but I do see the tears burning in his eyes, and it gives me a slight sense of satisfaction. With a small noise of disgust, I shove Tristan away and take a step back.

“I am the head of the Blackthorne family, and I don’t answer to you.”

Tristan rubbed his jaw. “No, but you do answer to the rest of the family, or have you forgotten about them? They need you, Carter.”

“Not as much as Isabella needs me,” I respond coldly. “Or have you forgotten that she’s just lost her father?”

She’s spent the past week curled up on the bed, reliving old memories and crying to herself. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to pull her out of her misery, and I know that all my usual tactics won’t work. Not when it comes to grief. Isabella needs to be able to mourn her father properly, and I want to give her all of that and more.

I want to be the one to pull her out of the dark hole she’s crawled into.

Isabella has already pulled me out of the darkness once, so it’s the least I can do. Without her, I still would’ve been the same man obsessing over finding a replacement for Brooke and taking my anger out on anyone and everyone who got in my way.

Before her, there was plenty I felt I had to do to atone for failing. Now, I’m determined not to make the same mistakes.

I refuse.

But I need Tristan and everyone else to back the fuck off before I give them something else to worry about. In spite of their insistence, all their pleas have fallen on deaf ears. Tristan has been handling things in my stead, and I know my cousin is more than up to the task. While I know it isn’t fair to my family to leave them hanging in their hour of need, I also know they can handle themselves.

Isabella, on the other hand, has no one else.

And I’ll be damned if I let that drive her into the arms of Donahue or anyone else.

She is mine, and she has everything she needs right here, and I’m going to do whatever I need to do in order to make sure she knows it.

Tristan shakes his head. “I haven’t forgotten, Carter, but—”

“Then you have no reason to be here.” I walk over to the front door and wrench it open. “I told you to hold down the fort while I take care of things here. So do your fucking job and, while you’re at it, make sure Lilian doesn’t bother either of us, or you’re going to have another problem on your hands.”

Without waiting for a response, I slam the door shut in his face and hurry up the stairs. Isabella is still sleeping when I enter the room and linger in the doorway. I watch the even rise and fall of her chest and the vulnerable look on her face, and some of the ice in my veins softens. With a smile, I enter the room and rummage through the drawer.

I’m tying Isabella’s arms up on either side of her when she stirs awake. She blinks, her hair a tangled mess around her face, and the color in her cheeks is heightened. “What’s going on?”

“Shh, just enjoy, dove. You don’t have to do anything else,” I murmur into her skin. Slowly, I toss away the nightgown I’ve peeled off her body. When I throw it over my shoulders, Isabella shifts, and her eyes soften again. I kneel on the bed in front of her and dig my nails into her waist.

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, dove,” I whisper as I press hot, open-mouthed kisses across her thighs. I kiss my way up to her center and push her legs open. “When you’re with me, nothing else matters. Not the sadness, not the war, and not that fucking useless journalist, do you understand?”

Isabella swallows and nods.

I pinch her soft skin between my fingers. “I can’t hear you.”

Isabella clears her throat, but it still comes out sounding husky and hoarse. “Yes, sir.”

With a smirk, I lower my head so it’s at eye level with her dripping wet center. I lick a path up, and she bucks underneath me, her hips rising off the mattress. Frowning, I give her leg a firm slap, and she jolts at the contact. Before she can say anything, I use two fingers to push aside her wet folds and bury my tongue into her pussy.

Isabella starts moaning my name and pulling against her restraints.

I know she wants to feel closer to me, to run her fingers over my skin, but I need her at my mercy.

Because I want her to understand what we have between us.

She needs to see that our bond is unbreakable and that even in her darkest hour, I’m not going anywhere.

I worship Isabella with my tongue, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. She tries to wrap her legs around my head, but I stop my movements. When I pull back to give her a pointed look, she is panting, and her mouth is half open. I twitch with the urge to bury myself in her.

To give us both the release we so desperately need.

But I know it’s too soon.

She can’t find her release, not yet. Not until I’ve chased away the shadows in her eyes and made her forget about everything outside that door. I tug on her restraints and make them tighter, smiling at her little hiss of pain. Then, I lower myself back onto the mattress and bury my head in between her legs. She tastes fantastic, a strange mixture of sweet and sour that has the blood roaring in my veins.

I don’t know how much longer I can wait, especially when she’s begging me now.

I love hearing the filthy things she’s telling me.

And I love that she adds a “sir” to the end of every sentence, with a moan that makes me plunge my tongue in further. Once Isabella crawls closer to the edge of release, I stop and kiss her. I kiss her thoroughly, letting her taste herself on my tongue. When I bite down on her bottom lip, she whimpers, and I taste her blood. Then I bury my head in her neck, and I press hot kisses there.

I wait until some of the haze of desire clears, and I undo her restraints.

Isabella is staring at the ceiling and panting, a slight furrow between her brows.

I hoist her up and set her down on a chair I’ve pulled out. After giving her another searing kiss, during which she tries to deepen it, I step back. She watches me through hooded eyes as I pull her back to her feet. I am impatient and eager as I tie her hands to the back of the chair so her back is facing me, and she’s on all fours and entirely at my mercy.

“I want to see you.”

I slap her ass. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here, dove. I’m the one who gets to call the shots.”

Isabella whimpers and twists her head to face me. I push her head back to the front and step out of my boxers. Quickly and with a little more impatience than usual, I rummage through the drawer and pull out a toy. Isabella is dripping wet and muttering to herself when I return. As soon as I insert the toy between her legs, she jerks.

“What is that?”

I press my mouth to her ear, and she shivers. “Relax and enjoy.”

She rocks back and forth against the toy, eager for more friction, and I touch myself. I move my fingers up and down my cock steadily, already eager for the feel of her mouth wrapped around my center. Isabella’s entire body shakes as her orgasm rips through her, and she cries out. I don’t wait for her to catch her breath when I remove the toy and position myself behind her.

In one quick thrust, I am inside of her.

I thrust in further, filling her all the way to the hilt.

Isabella wriggles and tries to take more of me. “Please, Carter. Please.”

I place my hands on her back and ease out. “That’s not my name.”

“Please, sir,” Isabella begs breathlessly. “I need you.”

I slam back into her. “How much do you need me?”

“More than anything,” Isabella gasps out. “I need you to fuck me, sir.”

I continue to ease in and out of her, building up momentum. I picture myself fucking away the memory of Donahue and any other men who’s ever laid hands on her. Then I see myself fucking away her pain and all the hurt she’s feeling because of the Lilian situation.

Suddenly, I am moving with uncontrolled abandon, her walls clenching around me and the sweet smell of her wafting up my nostrils. Isabella meets each thrust with one of her own, and I am no longer surprised by her appetite, by her endless desire for me.

Because I know it doesn’t compare to mine.

I need to brand her, to claim every last part of her, so everyone knows that we belong to each other.

When I sink my nails into her hips, Isabella throws her head back and moans. She wriggles her hips sideways until I grip her harder. “Didn’t I say that I’m the one calling the shots?”

“But I’m so close…”

“Hold it,” I growl into her ear. The blood is still roaring in my ears, but they’re also ringing now, and I know I can’t hold on for much longer. Abruptly, I untie Isabella, and she twists her arms over her head. With a grunt, I keep her bent over the chair and ram into her.

Repeatedly.

And with so much force that I feel like the chair is going to break.

She winds her fingers through my hair and tugs. Dual waves of pain and pleasure ricochet through me.

I pin her arms behind her back. “You’re mine, dove. I am not going to lose you to anyone or anything else. Do you understand?”

“Fuck, Carter. Fuck.”

“Don’t come yet.” I use my free hand to slap her ass again, hard enough to leave a mark. “Don’t fucking come until I tell you to.”

I give a few more quick thrusts and sink my teeth into her neck. I hear her sharp intake of breath, and her entire body shivers and explodes, the force of her orgasm ripping through her. She pants and writhes against me, and soon, my own release follows, and I can only see white. When I come down from my high, Isabella is curled against me and humming contentedly.

I drape an arm around her and whisper into her ear. “I know you miss your dad. If there was anything I could do to bring him back or take the pain away, you know I fucking would.”

Isabella tilts her head back and looks up at me. “I know you would.”

I press a kiss to her forehead and linger.

It isn’t long before she drifts off to sleep and starts making low whimpering noises. Reluctantly, I slip out of bed and bend over to pick up my clothes. After getting dressed, I glance at Isabella’s sleeping form over my shoulders, and something in my chest tightens. In nothing but the sheets and my ring on her finger, she is the most alluring sight I’ve ever seen.

And I want to climb back into bed and forget about reality.

But I have a fucking war to worry about.

And a journalist who needs to be taken care of.

***

Isabella

I sit up, my heart hammering unsteadily against my chest, and feel for Carter in the darkness. When I discover he’s not next to me, I throw myself back onto the mattress and bring a hand to my forehead. Then I run a hand over my face and blow out a breath. My breathing is still labored and uneven when I pick up my phone and see the message from Carter.

Briefly, I consider going over to Anita’s, but I know I’m not ready to face her yet.

I’m not ready to face anyone or anything.

Instead, I just want to stay in our room where I can sit in silence and miss my father. The aching hole in my chest feels vast and endless, especially when I scroll through the pictures on my phone and find the last picture my father and I took together. It was a year after he was admitted to the hospital, and in the picture, he was smiling, his hair parted to the side, and his bright eyes full of humor and hope. I don’t even recognize the me sitting next to him in a wrinkled shirt, with her hair pulled back and dark circles under her eyes.

It’s the last picture I have of the two of us, and it makes tears spring to my eyes.

Because I still have no idea how I got here. Or why it had to happen to my dad, of all people.

He didn’t deserve to die alone in a hospital bed.

Before I know it, I wrap my arms around myself and let the tears fall freely, not knowing what else to do with myself. Through my blurred vision, I trace the picture on my phone and try to imagine something different. Finally, I think of my father in heaven, watching over me, with my mom by his side.

Together, the two of them are happy and at peace.

The thought eases some of the knots in my stomach, and my lungs no longer burn when I sit up straighter. Slowly, I push my hair out of my face and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Naked, I walk into the bathroom and set the phone down on the counter. In the mirror, I avoid looking at myself directly while I wait for the water to heat up. Once steam fills the bathroom, I pull the curtain aside and step in, soft music filling the silence around me.

My tears mix with the water as I place my hands on either side of the shower wall and lower my head.

I don’t hear Carter come in since I’m so lost in my own grief. I don’t feel him until he gets into the shower, his lean and muscled body pressing against mine. Wordlessly, he takes the bar of soap out of my hands and runs it over my flushed skin. I go still as he moves his hand slowly, languidly, as if we have all the time in the world. When he spins me around, he has a strange glimmer in his eyes, and my chest is bursting with emotion.

I throw my arms around him and kiss Carter with all my might.

Like I’m trying to lose myself in him. Like I wouldn’t mind drowning in him.

He drops the bar of soap and digs his fingers into my waist. When he tugs on my lower lip, my breath hitches in my throat, and I lean further into his touch. Without warning, Carter spins me around so my chest and stomach are pressed against the cool tile walls. He uses his mouth to move over my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

“Carter,” I whisper, my voice catching toward the end. “I—”

“Shh,” Carter whispers into my ear. “Let me take care of you, dove.”

One hand stays on my hips, and the other moves to the front, quickly sliding down to my drenched center. He pushes one finger in my pussy and then another, and I’m already gushing wet. Carter makes a low growling sound in the back of his throat and begins to move.

Wave after wave of pleasure builds up within me. I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut. I feel every inch of him pressed against me, invading my space, my thoughts, and my heart.

But I don’t mind.

I don’t mind one bit.

Especially when he positions himself behind me and rubs in slow, circular motions. I twist my arms behind my back and try to grab a fistful of his hair. Using his free hand, he pins my arms over my head and makes another low noise that reverberates inside my head.

Fuck.

How is it that he’s able to read me so well?

How is it that he’s able to make me feel so many things at once?

I barely have time to finish my last thought before Carter thrusts into me, and I moan. Carter’s fingers have moved to press against my clit, slowly circling the aching nub and sending wave after wave of molten-hot desire racing through me. My vision turns white when he eases out and slams back into me, earning a little gasp of delight.

“Nothing else matters,” Carter murmurs in a deep and husky voice. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I murmur, twisting my head to look back at him. His hair is flattened by the water, and the hunger on his face is unmistakable, but it’s the look in his eyes that nearly has me coming undone.

Carter is never vulnerable. But I know that everything is changing between us, and he’s trying to show me what I do to him.

The kind of effect I have on him.

The thought makes me feel powerful and terrified all at once. As if I could have that kind of influence over Carter Blackthorne, of all people.

With a smirk, Carter brushes his lips against mine and thrusts again, deeper this time. Another whimper falls from my lips, and I turn my head back around. He keeps me pinned to the wall while he has his way with me, taking and giving with so much ferocity and sensuality that it brings tears to my eyes. When the force of my orgasm rips through me, and I cry out, I realize I never want it to end.

I don’t ever want to be apart from Carter.

Wordlessly, he spins me around and helps me set one leg up on the edge of the tub. He pushes my breasts together and eases into me. Then he lowers his head and takes one nipple between his teeth. I have my head thrown back, and my fingers are tightly wound through his hair when another orgasm builds. Carter moves onto the other nipple, sucking and biting as if his life depends on it, and I fall.

I fall so hard that I feel my soul leave my body.

Once I return, I realize my breathing is labored, and my legs are still shaking. I feel something warm between my legs and glance down to find Carter kneeling in front of me. Using his tongue, he shakes his head back and forth. I dig my fingers into his shoulders and try to remember how to breathe.

How to exist without Carter inside of me.

And all over me.

His intoxicating smell, a mixture of leather and sandalwood cologne, wafts up my nostrils. I inhale, and my fingers move from his shoulders to the back of his neck. They wind themselves through his hair, and I hold on to him for dear life. Just as I’m about to fall again, Carter removes his mouth and thrusts his fingers between my wet folds.

Then he pulls me up and holds me to him.

In one quick move, he’s inside of me again, and I fall, hurtling over the edge without a single care in the world.

All that matters is Carter.

All that will ever matter is him.

His own release follows soon after, and Carter crushes me to him as his entire body shakes. I squeeze my eyes shut and place a hand over his chest, over the erratic thumping of his heart. As soon as his breathing returns to normal, Carter sets me down with a surprising amount of gentleness. His eyes don’t leave my face as he picks up the soap and runs it over my body.

I am still tingling when he switches off the water and bundles me up in a towel.

Without warning, he sweeps me into his arms. I place my head against his chest, still reeling and spinning. He sets me down on the bed, and I see the shopping bags lined up at the foot of the bed, a variety of shapes and colors. Raising an eyebrow, I sit back on my legs and give Carter an amused look.

“When did you have time to do all of this?”

“I made a few phone calls while I was at Anita’s,” Carter replies, pausing to pull on a pair of boxers with a snap. “They know what kind of clothes I like, and they know your sizes.”

I secure the towel around my chest and crawl forward.

Every single item of clothing feels like butter between my fingers, and all of them are revealing in one way or another. I hold up a particular nightgown made of sheer pink lace and a matching thong and give Carter an incredulous look.

“What is this?”

Carter twists to face me and gives me a wicked grin. “I could show you how to try it on, but then I’d just rip it off again.”

I blush. “I thought you didn’t mind ripping my clothes off.”

“I don’t,” Carter replies without missing a beat. “But I’d like to see you wear it at least once before I destroy it.”

“Carter.” I sigh and push the nightgown back into the bag. “You know I appreciate everything you’re doing, but we’ve already been shopping twice this week.”

“So?”

I make a vague hand gesture. “So… this is too much, and it’s not like I have anywhere to wear a lot of these things.”

Carter bends down to give me a searing kiss. “You can do whatever you want with the clothes, dove.”

Between the shopping trips and the diners, it almost feels like Carter is a different person.

Underneath the surface, I know the broken, wounded, and angry man is still there, reeling from what almost happened when I snuck away to the hospital. Still, I appreciate that he’s keeping him under lock and key.

For now.

But I know it won’t be that way for long. Still, I appreciate him doing everything he can to make me forget about what I’ve lost. Of the kind of life I have to face without my father in the world.

On impulse, I glance down at my ring and admire how it catches the light. Carter sits on the bed next to me, rips off the towel, and pulls me to him. “If you don’t like the ring, we can go get another one. I’ve made us dinner reservations.”

I shake my head. “No, I love this.”

Carter’s hand traces a path down my back and pauses at my ass. He gives it a firm squeeze and exhales. “Good, because I want you to show it off at dinner tonight.”

I lean back to look at him. “What’s tonight?”

Carter stands up and gives me a smile that makes me forget my own name. “We’re going out to dinner with my family to celebrate. I know you told me you’re not ready to see anyone, but they all know that you need some time.”

I swallow. “Okay.”

“If it gets to be too much, I’ll bring you right home,” Carter promises with a shake of his head. “In the meantime, I have to go back to Anita’s.”

I nod, and a lump rises in my throat. “Okay.”

“I think Tristan mentioned Sam wanting to check in with you. I’ll see if she wants to come over.” Carter gives me another kiss before pulling on the rest of his clothes. I watch him leave the room and then hear the front door close.

I am pulling on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt when the doorbell rings. In the peephole, I see Paul standing guard outside, and when he shifts to the side, I see Sam holding a shopping bag and looking uneasy.

I throw the door open and draw her in for a hug. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I didn’t want to push, and I wanted to give you your space.” Sam’s arms come up around me, and she relaxes. “I’m so sorry about your dad, Isabella.”

I sniff and pull back to look at her. “It’s okay. At least he’s not suffering anymore.”

Sam steps into the house and kicks the door shut behind her. “Yeah, but you can still miss him.”

I lead her into the kitchen and open the refrigerator to hide my tears. “I do, but I know he’s better off.”

Sam sighs. “You don’t have to hide how you’re feeling around me, Isabella. I know I haven’t been a good friend to you, but this is all just… a lot, you know.”

I reach for a bottle of wine and a container with cheese and salami. When I spin back around to face Sam, she is leaning against the kitchen counter, an apologetic look on her face. “Water under the bridge. Don’t worry about it.”

Sam’s expression turns relieved. “Good. Um… Carter handed me this on my way out. He said to help you get ready for the celebration tonight.”

I give her a small smile and pry the container open. “I’d like that.”

Hours later, I am twisting to and fro and looking at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. The blue dress shimmers and glides over my skin with every movement. It has a plunging V-neck that shows off my cleavage, and I’ve paired it with a simple gold necklace and a bracelet Carter left out for me. After helping me with my hair and makeup, Sam is back at Anita’s, changing into her own outfit for the night.

Butterflies form in the center of my stomach when Carter materializes in the doorway to the bedroom, a handsome vision in his black suit, with the sleeves of his white button-down shirt featuring the black-rose cufflinks. With a lazy smile, he saunters into the room and pulls me to him. I tilt my head back to meet his gaze and give him a breathless smile.

“We have a problem, dove.”

I frown. “What’s wrong?”

“You look fucking amazing.” Carter’s eyes are moving steadily over me, leaving me feeling hot and bothered. “I don’t think we can go out like this.”

“Your family is waiting for us,” I point out with a chuckle. “We can’t be late to our own engagement celebration.”

“Like hell, we can’t.” Carter hoists me up and sets me down on the dresser. He pushes the dress up so it’s around my waist, revealing the lacy black underwear underneath. Carter palms me over the material, and I melt, turning into putty in his hands. I reach between us and cup him over the fabric of his trousers. He growls and pushes my hand away. I barely have time to register the zipper being undone and the familiar sound of cloth ripping before Carter is positioned at my entrance.

One hand grips the dresser underneath me, and the other flutters at my side.

I feel a strange sensation in my arm where the birth control implant is meant to be, but I ignore it.

Carter buries himself inside me, and my fingers dart underneath his shirt, moving over his bare skin.

An hour later, Carter and I walk into the restaurant holding hands. The restaurant is empty, except for the Blackthorne family, who are already eating and talking among themselves. As soon as she sees us, Anita lets out a whoop of approval and raises her glass to us. They all break out into applause, and color creeps up my neck and cheeks.

Tears prick the back of my eyes as Carter sits down first and pulls me into his lap.

I shift, the toy he placed between my legs making me feel particularly sensitive.

“Thank you all so much for coming tonight. We’re sorry we’re late.”

Carter pushes my hair forward and presses a kiss to the back of my neck. “We had some unfinished business to take care of.”

Underneath the table, he places his hand on my thigh and squeezes. I already miss him inside of me.

Throughout dinner, Carter doesn’t stop finding excuses to touch me. Thankfully, the toy between my legs doesn’t do anything, but I’m all too aware of how it feels against my bare skin and the feeling of Carter’s erection through the bulge in his trousers.

I keep trying to focus on Carter’s family, the glittering chandelier, and the soft strings of jazz music playing, but I can’t.

All night, Carter is the only thing I can think about, and the fact that, someday soon, I’m going to become his wife.

Hours later, when I wake up in the middle of the night, Carter isn’t in bed next to me. I roll over and see him sitting on a chair by the window, bathed in the pale glow of the moon. With a frown, I sit up and throw the covers off. Carter doesn’t react or say anything until I climb onto his lap and bury my face in the crook of his neck.

He wraps an arm around me and continues to look out the window. “You should go back to sleep, dove.”

“I can’t.”

Carter twists to face me, his face half-hidden in the shadows. “I’ll come to bed in a minute.”

“Or we can just sit here,” I whisper, fighting to keep the sleep out of my voice. “Is everything okay?”

Carter brushes my hair out of my face. “It’s fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“But—”

Carter presses a finger to my lips. “You really need to learn to let things go, dove. When are you going to grow out of this habit?”

I shrug and study his face, committing his features to memory.

Carter removes his finger and gives me a pointed look. “I should punish you right now.”

I wriggle against him. “Maybe you should.”

Carter’s expression tightens. “You lost your dad, dove. As much as I want to fuck the grief out of you, even I know it’s not possible.”

I curl up against him and exhale. “I wish you could.”

Because as much as I’m enjoying being doted on and made to feel like the only woman in the world who matters, I know Carter can’t keep this up.

Not with a war brewing outside his doorstep. And another civil war festering among the Blackthorne family itself.

I know I shouldn’t be encouraging the shopping sprees and the dinners, but it gives me something to do and keeps me distracted. It’s only been a week, and already I feel tired, more exhausted than I’ve ever been, and nothing is helping. Not the knowledge that Carter has this whole other side to him, not knowing that I’ve still got a job waiting for me, and definitely not the thought of planning a wedding.

If I’m being honest with myself, even Carter is barely keeping my demons at bay. But I don’t have the heart to tell him that, not when he’s trying so hard.

But all the shopping trips and the dinners in the world can’t make up for what I lack.

We both know that.

So we sit there in silence, with Carter holding me while I cling to him. Eventually, when I drift off, he scoops me into his arms and carries me into the bed. When he pulls the covers over me, I don’t let go of him. I mumble something in my sleep, and Carter inches closer to press his lips against my neck. I link my fingers behind his neck and play with the hair on his nape.

Carter pushes the straps of my nightgown down, allowing my breasts to spill forward. Then he nudges my legs apart and positions himself at my entrance.

We don’t say anything as we move together, the bed dipping and creaking underneath us. I can hear my own uneven breathing, loud enough to fill the room. Carter digs his fingers into my hips and growls in the back of his throat. When my orgasm washes over me, I climb on top of Carter and straddle him. He thrusts in and out a few more times before his own release comes.

I fall beside him on the bed, and Carter pulls me to him, wrapping me securely in his arms.

In the morning, I’m too exhausted and spent to worry about the fact that Carter isn’t in bed again.

Around midday, the door to the bedroom creaks open, and Carter comes in with a tray full of food. He is shirtless and only wearing a pair of shorts. In silence, I scarf down the eggs and toast before pulling the covers back up to my chin. My head feels heavy, and I refuse to leave the bed. Eventually, Carter exhales and mutters something to himself.

A short while later, after Carter leaves, Sam comes over, and she sits in bed with me.

We don’t exchange a single word as she points the remote at the TV above the dresser and lowers the volume.

That night, when Carter comes home, he gathers me into his arms, and I bring my head to rest against his chest. The next few weeks are a blur of shopping trips and extravagant dinners at restaurants whose names I can’t pronounce.

And Carter spends every free minute that he can with me.

Doting on me, buying me gifts, and worshipping me with his body.

I’ve heard the whispers in Anita’s house, and I’ve seen the looks the other Blackthornes are giving him, but no one dares to utter a word. Still, I know there’s a storm coming, and as usual, we’re going to be right in the center when the worst of it hits.

For the umpteenth time since meeting Carter, I find myself praying that we emerge with as little damage as possible.

Because I have no idea how many more of these storms we can take.

***

Carter

“Orange looks good on you, Frances.” I link my fingers over the table and lean forward to stare at the former mayor. “Sporting a new look, huh?”

Frances scowls and stares at me through his good eye, the right one swollen and drooping. “Cut the bullshit, Blackthorne. I know you had something to do with this.”

I unlink my fingers and lean back against the metal chair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Frances is skinnier than when I last saw him, and I already know that his jumpsuit is hiding a wide array of bruises, many of them freshly inflicted.

And all it took was a few phone calls to the right people.

I’m not the forgiving type, and Frances knew that before going into business with me. Now that he’s made his bed, he has to lie in, and I will gladly shove him into it if he hesitates.

“What are you even doing here? I didn’t take you for the type to gloat.” Frances gives me a look that’s meant to intimidate, but all it does is highlight how pathetic he is. Underneath the dim florescent lightning, in the middle of a prison with similarly dressed inmates, he’s a far cry from the once-powerful man running the city.

I can’t believe I ever thought it was a good idea to back him up. Weaselly little shit.

Still, the fact that Frances has somehow survived, with a few lives to boot, could be used to my advantage. Which is why, against my family’s advice, I had Ernest drive me out here and wait by the door.

Being inside Sing Sing prison isn’t as unnerving as I thought it would be. Not when I know the police can’t do anything to me… yet.

But with the clock ticking on our war with the Philipses and the Natoris and Lilian still pestering me with the impending release of her article, I know I’m playing with fire.

“I have a way for you to make things up to me,” I tell Frances before slowly sitting up straighter and giving him a bored look. “You’re not as stupid as people think you are, so I know you’re not going to turn me down. Not without hearing what I have to say.”

Frances pulls his mouth back to reveal a row of teeth. “I’m not making any more deals with you, Blackthorne. You’re fucking poison.”

“Oh, I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say before you throw it in my face.”

“How well is that bitch blowing you anyway? Does she still have you by the balls?”

I’m across the table, with my hands around his neck, before the words finish leaving his mouth. Frances sputters and glances at the guards, who take one step in my direction. With one look between my face and Ernesto’s, they back off and return to their duties.

As if nothing out of the ordinary is transpiring.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today,” I hiss before giving him another firm shake. “Otherwise, these guards would be cleaning your remains off the floor.”

Frances wheezes, and his face turns red.

I squeeze him for a while longer, taking a grim sense of satisfaction from the colors playing out over his face. It isn’t long before I smell the sweat and the fear lingering in the air. Abruptly, I release Frances and drape an arm over the back of my chair. Frances’ hands move to his neck and the finger-shaped bruise already forming there.

His fellow inmates are going to have a field day with him tonight. I only wish I could be there to see it myself.

Frances clears his throat several times, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I see your negotiating skills haven’t improved.”

“I see you’re still a conniving two-timing piece of shit, but who’s keeping score.”

Frances rubs his neck, annoyance flickering across his face. “What do you want?”

“I want Lilian McCoy’s head on a platter, and before you think of playing dumb and denying that you even know her, I’ve got pictures of the two of you screwing.”

Frances presses his lips together and says nothing.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and scroll through it. Then, I set it down between us and maximize the screen. “I’m thinking of having a few of them framed and sent to your family. Which one do you prefer?”

“Fuck you.”

“I like the one where she’s on your desk, next to the picture of your wife.” I gesture to the phone and offer Frances a slow, unperturbed grin. “That one’s really special… and classy too. How do you think she’d feel if I sent a few to the tabloids? You’re still pretty famous, you know.”

Frances curses me in a language I don’t understand.

I pick my phone up off the table and tuck it away. “Now that I have your attention, we can get down to some serious business. You’re going to tell me everything that you know about Lilian McCoy, or these pictures are going to be the least of your problems.”

Frances holds my gaze and doesn’t look away. “If I do this for you, you have to do something for me.”

“Why would I want to help you?” I only want to put his face through a wall.

“Because you want to find this whore badly enough that you’re willing to work with me. I’ll tell you where she works. Hell, I’ll even give you her last known address, but in return, you have to recover everything she has on me.”

I snort. “I don’t know why I ever thought you had the balls to be mayor.”

“When I ended things, she took some files from my office, including some sensitive documents,” Frances continues as if he hasn’t heard me. “I want them back.”

“Planning your re-election already? That’s ambitious.”

“Help me, and I’ll help you.” Frances sets his hands down on the table, his eyes never leaving my face. “I know you’re not an unreasonable man, Carter. You want to find her more than I want those files. Do this for me and offer me protection in jail, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And why in the hell would I trust you?”

“You don’t have much of a choice here, do you? It all depends on how badly you want to find Lilian McCoy.”

“You’re a fucking class act, Frances.” I stand up and unfasten the first button on my jacket. “Consider it done, but if you screw me over again, prison time will seem like a walk in the park compared to what I’ll do to you.”

Frances mouths something to me and sits up straighter. “You’ll get the rest of the information when I know I’m safe.”

Without waiting for a response, I spin around and walk out of the visiting room. The guard who opens the door glances over at Frances and back at me. “It’s a pleasure to see you as always, Mr. Blackthorne.”

I nod and look over at Ernesto.

A quick look passes between us as we step outside and are led through a series of dirty-looking hallways. Outside, the same guard who spoke to me pushes a large door open with a creak. Ernesto drapes an arm over the man’s shoulders and draws him away underneath a spot of shade and away from the prying eyes of the cameras.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ernesto hand over a wad of cash and whisper something into the guard’s ear. Then the guard plasters a shit-eating grin on his face as he walks away. The door slams shut behind him, and I shove a hand into my pocket. In the SUV, Ernesto turns up the AC and backs away from the curb.

He kicks up dust and gravel as he drives away. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to get into bed with him again, boss?”

“Fuck no. But for now, we need to let him think we need him more than he needs us.” I take my phone out and scroll through it until I stop at Tristan’s name.

“How did it go?” Tristan asks after he answers my call.

“He’s got a lot of balls. I’ll give him that. I’ve already brokered a deal with some of the prison guards so they can keep an eye on him. In a few more days, I want you to come and visit our dear old friend and remind him that he owes us.”

“I knew it wouldn’t take long to get him to squeal. Fucking rat.”

“He might hate Lilian as much as I do.” I switch the phone to my other ear. “By the way, you and Sam are coming over for dinner tonight. Isabella has been trying out these new recipes online, and she needs some guinea pigs.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Tristian replies with an exhale. “Should I bring some plastic bags, just in case it doesn’t go well?”

“If you feel the need to throw up, do it outside and without her seeing you,” I snap before I end the call. With that, I shove the phone back into my pocket and press my head against the window. The world outside rushes past in a blur of shapes and colors.

When I get home, Isabella is in the kitchen in an apron tied over a pair of shorts and a tank top that exposes her midriff.

She spends the next hour dancing away from me and trying to swat my hands away.

My patience is growing thin, my hunger for her even stronger, but I’m glad to see that twinkle in her eyes again. Even if I know she has an uphill battle ahead of her before she feels normal again. Despite my impatience and my exasperation, I’m determined not to make it harder.

I will not take this away from her. Isabella deserves to grieve in whatever way she sees fit.

During dinner, she sits pressed against me, her eyes darting eagerly between Sam and Tristan, who are nice enough not to comment on the food. Underneath the table, I stroke her bare skin until my hand rides up and darts between her legs. She shoots me a dirty look and presses her legs together. I smirk and try to focus on my watery soup.

A few days later, I’m still thinking of how it felt to sneak into the study downstairs and bend Isabella over my desk while Sam and Tristan waited for us in the living room. I can still taste her on my tongue and feel her body pressed against mine when Ernest pulls to a stop outside a cluster of old buildings in a run-down part of town.

I adjust the jacket over my gun and push the door open. “Let’s take care of our pest problem once and for all, shall we?”

Wordlessly, Ernesto gets out of the driver’s seat and follows me. There are broken shards of glass on the pavement and an abandoned warehouse on the opposite side of the street. I feel several pairs of eyes on us, but no one says anything when Ernesto pries the front door open, and we go in. It is pitch black, and it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust.

My fingers curl around my gun as I creep forward.

Ernesto’s loud breathing is somewhere ahead of me. He kicks the door to his right in, and we call out. When we step in, the lights flick on, and I’m blinded by the spots in my field of vision. Slowly, my vision clears and sharpens into focus. However, rather than seeing Lilian seated at a desk or on her couch in whatever scantily clad outfit she owns, I recognize a few members of the Philips family seated at the kitchen counter.

Two of them are on Lilian’s old couch, their guns pointed directly at us.

Fuck.

How the hell do Ernesto and I keep finding ourselves in these situations? And why am I not surprised that Lilian is somehow involved with my enemies?

I’ve always known she was trouble, but this might just take the cake.

I’m feeling less and less guilty about what I might have to do to shut her up.

Gerald Philips uncrosses his ankles and stands up, pushing his chair back with a screech. “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this, Carter, but you’ve left us no choice.”

I point my gun directly at him. “I’m not surprised Lilian is working for you. What’s that saying about like calling to like? She’s a piece of shit, and so are you.”

Gerald cocks his head to the side and studies me. “You know, underneath all that anger and hostility, I know there’s a sharp mind in there.”

“You’re not my type, Philips.” I undo the safety and keep my gun aimed at the Philips family’s right-hand man. “I’d save your sad attempts at dirty talk for your whores. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it a lot more.”

Gerlad shoves his hand into the pocket of his pants. “I can see I’m going to need to spell out the math for you, Blackthorne. You’re outnumbered.”

I offer him a grim smile. “And I can see that you need a quick recap. I like my odds here.”

Especially because I know backup is on the way.

Ernesto made sure of it the second we stepped in through those doors and realized the lights were off.

Geral throws his head back and laughs. “I’ve heard you were delusional and drunk on power, but this is a lot worse than I thought. The great fucking Carter Blackthorne… It’s almost a shame to kill you.”

“I can’t say that I feel the same.” I fire my gun at one of the men in the background, and he slumps to the floor, the life immediately draining out of him. “That was a warning shot in case it wasn’t obvious. I won’t miss the next time.”

Gerald scoffs. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

I glance between his men and at Ernesto over my shoulder. Another quick look passes between us. I pretend to lower my gun and shoot Gerald in the foot. There is chaos as he yells and hops on his uninjured foot. Ernesto presses his back against mine as they try to tackle us to the ground. Between the two of us, we fight as many of them off with our bare hands.

A few of them are on the receiving end of our bullets.

More and more of them pour out, and I hear the screech of tires outside. Rich materializes in the doorway, with a swarm of men behind him. He wastes no time in picking up the nearest gun and firing it. I’m almost impressed with the way he doesn’t hesitate. Then I pause to wipe away the blood using the back of my hand. Donahue’s men aren’t as polished as I’d like, and they need to learn a thing or two about finesse, but they manage to hold their own.

Gerald is ushered away out a back door, with only two of his men to guard him.

Through the window, I see their car peel away and wait till it turns into a speck on the horizon. Once it does, I wheel around to face Rich. “We need to move quickly. How fast can you make sure your men take over the buildings they left behind?”

Rich folds his arms over his chest. “How fast can yours?”

“They’re already on the way,” I reply, pausing to use a rug to wipe off my bloodied knuckles. “If your men make it there before mine do, you can have your pick.”

Rich does a double take, a furrow appearing between his brows. “What did you just say?”

“I know the value of a good ally.” I tuck my gun away and roll up the sleeves of my shirt. “As a thank you for helping the Blackthornes double their business, you get half of the spoils.”

Rich barely manages to hide his surprise. “I don’t know what to say.”

As I brush past him, I pause to place a hand on his shoulders. “Don’t fuck this up, Donahue, or else you’ll have me to answer to.”

With that, I brush past him and step outside.

On the streets, several more Blackthorne men are arriving. They all look relieved to see me, and a few even exchange surprised looks when Rich emerges, his own men in tow. I wait until I’m in the SUV before I take my anger out on the passenger seat of the car. I punch it a few times while Ernesto drives us through the streets of the city, not daring to say a word.

“Goddamn it. How the hell did Lilian manage to get their protection? What the hell did she offer them?”

Ernesto meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “My guess is she promised to ruin you if she couldn’t have you.”

“Fucking bitch.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I need to find her and kill that article before she finds out that Isabella and I are engaged. Otherwise, nothing is going to stop her from posting it.”

And I have no idea how bad the damage is going to be.

From what little I’ve been able to glean, Lilian is not holding back any punches.

She’s gunning for my family and me, and she’s not exactly making a secret of it.

When I get home, I find Isabella working on a few sketches in the study. Even though I’m dirty, sweaty, and covered in blood that isn’t my own, Isabella doesn’t say anything. Wordlessly, she leads me upstairs and helps me strip out of my clothes. In the shower, she scrubs every inch of my skin twice until the water swirling beneath our feet is filthy.

I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I might lose her.

In the morning, Tristan and I are out on the docks when we run into Rich and a few of his men. He doesn’t look happy to see us, and when I approach him, more and more of his men emerge from the shadows.

Unease settles in the center of my stomach as I glance around. “What’s going on here?”

“I really was hoping to avoid all this.” Rich makes a vague hand gesture. “I’m sure you’ve realized by now that there’s not enough room in this city for more than one powerful family.”

I frown. “I’m well aware of that.”

Was Rich unhappy with the business I gave him? Was he trying to shake me down for more?

I take a step forward and offer Rich an encouraging smile. “I’m sure we can talk about this—”

Rich holds his hand up and bridges the gap between us. “I don’t think so.”

Without warning, he draws his hand back and punches me squarely in the face. I spit out a mouthful of blood at his feet and throw myself at him. Rich and I fall onto the uneven ground, kicking up dust and dirt as we roll around. I manage to get in a few more punches before I’m being pulled to my feet.

Two of Rich’s men hold me back. A third lands a kick to my stomach. I don’t hiss or cry out because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Why hadn’t I listened to my gut with this guy?

Jesus fucking Christ. Of course, he’s working with the Philipses and the Natoris.

Rich uses the back of his hand to wipe the blood away. Then he strolls over to where they’re holding me. Another one of his men forces me to my knees so I’m looking up at Rich. Gone is the shy and indecisive man who approached me, and in his place is a man with a cold gleam in his eyes and a calculating smirk that fills me with more dread than I’d like to acknowledge. Now, he looks just like his brother, Jacob.

He better not touch a hair on Isabella’s head.

“Fucking Rich Donahue. I should’ve known you couldn’t be trusted as an ally.”

Rich shrugs and studies me. “I only pretended to be your ally so I could get close enough to you to determine what kind of threat you really were. I know all about you, Carter, and I’d heard enough from my brother to know that going after you wasn’t the way to take you down.”

My blood turns to ice. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Honestly, it was too easy slipping the new families information about you so they could target you. Even the mayor was a lot more susceptible than I thought he’d be. You’d think he would know better.”

“You son of a bitch.” I lunge at Rich, but at the last second, someone pushes a taser against my back, and my whole body jerks. I crumple into a heap, but all I see is red.

“It was a little too easy,” Rich continues as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “They were all too willing to do my dirty work for me and expose you, but now that you’ve taken care of them, I guess I’ll have to find another way.”

I give him the dirtiest look possible and say nothing.

“I have to admit I expected something a lot more dramatic,” Rich says with a frown. “I expected more from the Carter Blackthorne, but I’ll have to get over my disappointment.”

“Fuck you. When I get out of here, I’m going to rip you apart with my bare hands,” I inform him with a lift of my chin. “There won’t be a single place in this city that you can hide.”

“Unless I have Isabella,” Rich replies with a smile that makes me sick to my stomach. “She’s the real key, isn’t she? I’ve been watching the two of you, Carter, and I have to say… I get it now.”

I struggle against my captors, and they kick me again. “Touch her, and you’ll wish you were never born.”

Rich’s expression turns thoughtful. “Violence really is all you know, isn’t it? You and I both know that Isabella deserves better, and when I get rid of you, it won’t take me long to make her see that.”

In one quick move, they tase me again, and Rich draws me to my feet. He shoves a knife into my stomach, and little droplets of blood stain the ground beneath my feet. Still, I stagger forward and knock Rich onto the ground. I’m on top of him, throwing one punch after another, when I hear a few more cars arrive. Rich’s men freeze when they see the familiar Blackthorne crest surround them.

Rich slides out from under me and crawls away. “This isn’t over, Blackthorne. We’re just getting started.”

I chase Rich until spots dance in my field of vision, and pain shoots through my body, the adrenaline from the fight quickly losing effect. Without an injury, he’s a lot faster than I am, and he jumps into a black SUV waiting for him at the end of the docks. Then the vehicle screeches away, and I limp to a halt. Suddenly, Ernesto and Tristan are on either side of me, murmuring something I can’t make out.

When I realize I’m on the ground looking up at the sky, I frown. “What’s happening?”

“We’ll take you to a hospital.”

I shoot up. “He’s going to try and take Isabella. Where the fuck is she?”

“She’s at Anita’s,” Tristan replies before draping one arm over his shoulders. Ernesto does the same with my other arm, so I’m being pulled away. “She’s fine. Paul is keeping a close eye on her, and so is Anita.”

“I have to find her.”

Tristan and Ernesto tuck me into the back of the SUV, where I stain the seats and the floor. “This is going to be a bitch to clean.”

Tristan exchanges a quick look with Ernesto before getting into the passenger seat. “That’s not the only bad thing to happen today. Do you remember that article Lilian threatened to publish?”

I groan, sweat forming on my forehead and down my back. “Don’t fucking tell me that she posted it.”

“About twenty minutes ago. One thousand hits and counting,” Tristan replies with a grimace. “I’m working on having it taken down, but I thought you’d want to know so you don’t have any more surprises.”

When we hit a speedbump, I hiss in pain and try not to think of what Isabella’s going to say.

I need to get home as soon as possible.