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

Chapter Forty-One

Carter

I hoist the enemy up the scruff of his neck and pull my lips back to reveal my teeth. “Where did the Natoris go into hiding?”

The man with a bloodied and bruised face presses his lips together and doesn’t say anything.

I punch him again, aiming for the wound in his stomach. He wheezes, and his blood pours down the sides of his face and his nose. Still, he won’t say a word. He’s a lot harder to crack than I thought he would be.

All the Philips and Natori men are. It makes me wonder what they do to traitors.

By now, our inside man is probably long dead, his body dumped in a shallow grave somewhere.

Pausing to roll my shoulders, I release the guy and give him another menacing look. He crumples into a heap at my feet, covered in his urine, sweat, and blood, but he still doesn’t beg for mercy. With a frown, I drag him back up to his feet and take him outside to the alley, where Paul and the others have a few more men lined up against the wall.

All of them lift their heads up and say nothing.

I point a gun at the back of the man’s head and force him to his knees. “Any last words?”

“Fuck you, Carter Blackthorne.”

“I was hoping for something more original than that.” I aim the gun and fire, bits of blood and brain matter flying in every direction. Then I kick the man away and gesture to Paul, who drags another shorter man to his feet. He sputters and cries and pleads.

It only makes me angrier.

I take care of him, too, and more of our captives flinch.

When I reach the fifth person, I’m growing impatient, the anger burning through me becoming almost impossible to ignore. I cock my gun and get ready to shoot when the man surrenders. With a grim smile, I pull him to his feet and shove him to Paul. Paul drags him away, and I clean the blood off my knuckles.

That night, I’m in the shower when Paul gets the news.

A short while later, Ernesto is driving me to a press conference in a secure location, where a lot of my men are lying in wait. When I get there, a swarm of reports is already lined up outside. The security team I’ve hired for the night keeps them at bay, but everyone is on edge. While I know that holding a press conference to help clear my name isn’t the way to go about it, I also know that it’s important.

I need public opinion to be in my favor. Especially where Mayor Hughes is concerned. And I want to rub my freedom and influence in his face.

Ernesto pulls up next to the curb and grips the steering wheel tighter. “Are you sure you want to do this, boss?”

“They’re going to try and shoot me in full view of the press. It’s going to drum up a lot of sympathy and outrage because even criminals deserve their day in court,” I tell Ernesto without looking at him. “This is all going according to plan.”

Ernesto twists to face me. “And if they don’t try to shoot you?”

“Then I’ll give the press something to think about.” I flash Ernesto a grim smile and push the door open. “Stay close and stay in touch with Tristan.”

I shove one hand into my pocket, and two of the security team flank me. I climb up the stairs toward the mayor’s office, lit up by the pale glow of the moon, and stop when I reach the landing. With a smile, I spin around to face everyone and give them a half-wave. A makeshift podium has already been set up, so I step behind it, the smile never leaving my face.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ernesto and a few others hovering on the edge of the crowd.

The crowd goes still and quiet.

“Good evening, and thank you all for coming here tonight.” I tap the microphone and lean into it. “I know everyone is busy, so I’m going to get straight to the point. A lot of things have been said about me in the press, and I want you all to know that none of it is true.”

Cameras start flashing, and a few reporters lean forward to get closer to the podium.

“As you all know, I ran for mayor and lost. Because of his inability to accept my standing in the community, Mayor Hughes has launched a personal attack against me. I have been nothing but gracious and kind, but I cannot let these accusations hold any longer. I will no longer stand by and allow the mayor to drag my name and the names of the people I love through the mud.”

A loud cacophony of voices rises as everyone tries to be heard over each other.

Spots dance in my field of vision.

I search for Ernesto in the crowd and nod. The lights go out, and I take a step back. One of my hired men, a man who bears a passing resemblance to me from a distance, steps forward and takes my place at the podium. Quickly and using the cover of darkness, I creep away and meet Ernesto in the side street. Almost on cue, shots ring out, and the gathering crowd erupts into chaos.

A scream rises through the air as the lights come back on.

My man is on the ground, blood staining his shirt and a strained look on his face. Ernesto pushes me against the SUV and glances around. A few more gunshots are fired, slicing through the air, and the crowd of reporters starts scrambling to get away. A few members of the hired security team lurch forward and pull my double to his feet.

He staggers and stops to look over his shoulder at the press.

Cameras are still flashing, and phones are being taken out.

Everything is a blur of sounds and voices as I jump into the backseat of the SUV and flatten myself against the floor. Ernesto gets into the car and speeds off, weaving in and out of traffic while I talk to Tristan. When we make it to another safe house, one not too far from Anita’s house, Ernesto skids to a halt, his heavy breathing filling the air.

I scramble out of the back of the car and run a hand through my hair. “That went better than expected. The mayor is not going to know what fucking hit him.”

I only wish I could be there to see his reaction in person.

But I know I can’t risk something like that, not when I need everyone else to think I’ve been seriously injured. Lulled into a false sense of security, my enemies are going to start growing lax and careless, and it’s exactly what I need to find their Achilles’ heel.

And drive the stake right through their heart.

I can almost taste the victory now.

Ernesto gets out of the car, his hand flying to the gun at his waist. “How long do you think they’ll buy it for?”

“If the hospital does its fucking job right, long enough for me to end this war,” I reply with a quick glance around the empty street. Slowly, Ernesto and I walk across the front lawn with overgrown weeds and dead grass. At the front door, Ernesto stops to pull the key from his pocket.

I close my fingers around my gun and peer into the darkness. “With the exception of you and Paul, everyone else needs to lay low.”

Ernesto doesn’t say anything and follows me inside.

In the semi-darkness, I creep forward. The only sound other than my own breathing is Ernesto’s. He is somewhere to my right, and I can feel his fear and uncertainty. When I reach the window, I rip the curtain open and stop, allowing moonlight to pour in and cast tiny particles of light on the hardwood floors.

In silence, Ernesto opens the rest of the curtains, giving the entire place a soft and eerie glow.

Without looking at him, I set up the security system using facial recognition and a biometric scan. Then I flick on the main light and slam the door shut. Once the system is up and running, I clap my hands together and give the place a once-over. With two rooms, an old couch with a large sheet draped over it, and a small fireplace covered in dust, this is one of the older Blackthorne safe houses.

It’s not the one I want to be in. Not with Isabella in the Blackthorne’s manor.

I miss her more than I want to. More than I care to admit it.

My fingers itch to reach for the phone, but I know I can’t contact her. Not with my enemies on high alert. They are going to be circling everyone I know or care about in search of the truth.

And they need to think I’m down for the count.

As far as the Natoris and the Philipses are concerned, I’ve been shot by one of their men and am currently being treated at the hospital. While a part of me knows it’s a little risky to let them think they have the upper hand, another part of me knows what happens next.

They’re going to go after me at the hospital. Which is why I need to lay low and plot the next phase of my plan.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Blackthornes need to play the part of the grieving and shocked family; otherwise, we don’t stand a chance in hell.

After doing a thorough sweep of the safe house, Ernesto returns, some of the tension draining from his face. He sets his gun down on the kitchen counter and runs a hand over his face. “They’re going to figure out it’s not you once they get close enough.”

“By then, this should all be over.” I fish my phone out of my pocket and send Tristan an encrypted message, something only he can decipher in case he’s looking at the news online. The last thing I need is Tristan or Isabella to buy into the report that I’ve been injured.

The rest of the world, on the other hand, should be eating out of the palm of my hands.

Ernesto takes his other phone out, a secure line he keeps for emergencies, and boots it up. Once it starts, he raises an eyebrow and twists the screen in my direction. “You’re trending, boss.”

“And that’s how you fucking strike.” I give him a grim smile and sit down on one of the stools. “Hughes is going to be pissed he didn’t think of it.”

Now that I’ve drummed up sympathy on a political scale, I know Hughes is going to be screwed.

How can he explain allowing this to happen on his watch?

He’s meant to be a gracious winner. Instead, my press conference casts him in the worst light—as someone who can’t handle competition and will do anything to eliminate the enemy.

Fucking Hughes had it coming.

“What about Donahue? Tell me there’s news about the son of a bitch.” I put my phone down on the counter and keep my gun next to it. As my eyes dart around the room, I try to keep my mind from racing, knowing I need to focus on my next problem.

Rich needs to be eliminated.

While waiting for the Natoris and Philipses to turn their backs, I finally have some time to go after Donahue myself, and I’m buzzing with impatience.

Ernesto shakes his head. “Every single one of our contacts has gone dark. There’s talk about them being too afraid of being dragged into this war.”

I scowl. “Fucking cowards. Up the price of the bounty.”

Ernesto gives me a pointed look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Won’t it look strange that the Blackthornes are increasing the bounty for Donahue when the head of the family is lying in a hospital bed?”

I’m out of my seat and giving Ernesto my most menacing look. “If I want your opinion, I’ll fucking ask for it. Just do what you’re told.”

Otherwise, we are going to have a problem on our hands.

Confined in a space together isn’t how I want to plot the next phase of my plan, but I know that Ernesto means well. And I can’t stay in a safe house by myself, not if I hope to stay one step ahead of the enemy. Ernesto, Paul, and I need to take turns watching the house until it’s safe for me to go back out into the world.

With a frown, I head to the nearest bathroom and slam the door shut.

I can taste the anger and feel it pump through my veins. So I rip off my clothes and throw them into a heap on the tile floor.

In the shower, I think of Isabella, of her soft, sensual mouth and the way her skin tastes in the morning. I picture her in the bathroom with me, stark naked and already wet for me. Then I bring my head to rest against the wall and clench my hands into fists.

I see her with her hair matted to her forehead and a shy smile etched onto her features.

Goddamn it.

Am I having withdrawal symptoms?

It’s been ten days since I last laid eyes on her, and in that time, although I’ve had my hands full, I’ve been riled up and filled with too much pent-up frustration. Whenever I think of her, I’m filled with the urge to drive to the mansion, kick the door down, and bend her over the nearest surface.

But I know I can’t do that yet.

Steam fills the room as I touch myself and imagine Isabella’s fingers instead. I see her on her knees in front of me, then pressed between me and the wall. My movements grow faster and more impatient. I press my lips together, and when I finally picture myself buried deep inside of Isabella, I explode.

I wait until my body is no longer jerking and shaking before I clean myself off.

After wrapping a towel around myself, I go into the bathroom and pull the bag out from under the bed. When I go back to the main room, Ernesto is watching the security feed on his camera, a furrow between his brows. “There’s a few other people on the street.”

I wave his comment away and rummage through the fridge. “The place was swept and secured before we got here. We need to preserve our energy for those fucking bastards.”

Ernesto sets his phone down and nods. “Okay.”

A short while later, Paul knocks on the backdoor, three consecutive knocks, and a low whistle. I check the feed for a few moments before unlocking the door. His hair is matted to his forehead, and he smells like sweat, but Tristan’s brother is a sight for sore eyes.

He gives me a grim smile when he kicks the door shut behind him. “It worked. I wanted to wait long enough to make sure the Natoris and Philipses bought it. Rumor has it they’re already planning how to break into the hospital to kill you.”

“Make sure the others put up a good fight,” I instruct before sliding the lock into place and ensuring the rest of the security system is secure. “To the outside world, it needs to look like I’m the one who’s been compromised.”

“Consider it done, boss.”

“What about that inside man of yours?”

“He’s re-surfaced. When he thought they were onto him, he had to lay low, but he’s back and ready to help.”

“You better make damn fucking sure that he hasn’t turned on us, or it’s going to be your head on a silver platter.”

Paul nods. “Of course.”

“Donahue needs to find out the news. It’s the only way he’ll come out of hiding.”

And a man like Donahue, who has been playing the long game all along, will want to make sure of the news himself. With all his grand plans and all his scheming, he’s not going to leave it up to chance or the rumor mill. Word of my incapacitation should be enough to have him racing back to the city.

And then I’ll make sure he has the kind of welcome he deserves. The welcome I’ve been planning for three weeks.

“I’ll reach out to the press and see if we can leak some information about your current state.” Paul takes out his phone and presses his lips together. “How bad do you want it to be?”

“Rich should think that I’m on my fucking deathbed.”