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

Chapter Eight

Carter

“Both sides need to honor the agreement,” I snap, with a quick look around the room. I push my chair back with a screech, and a few people flinch when it falls to the floor with a thud. “If you’re not going to honor the agreement, then why are you wasting my time?”

Floyd Philips drums his fingers against the desk and gives a slight shake of his head. “You’re the one who is wasting time here, Blackthorne. We are being generous.”

I place my hands on either side of the table and level the head of the Philips family with a withering look. A few of his men shift from one foot to the other, but none of them want to meet my gaze. Combined, all of them have a lot more common sense than their boss.

But they’re also a lot more cowardly.

And I know the key isn’t to alienate or threaten Floyd, especially not when we’re evenly matched in war. Still, I can’t help but slip back into old habits.

Since walking into an empty conference room in the middle of the city two hours ago, all I’ve been able to think about is putting Floyd’s face through a wall.

Repeatedly.

I’ve come a little too close for anyone’s comfort. And I am hanging onto my patience by the skin of my teeth.

“Asking for half of our properties isn’t being generous,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’re overreaching, and you and I both know what happens if you cross a Blackthorne.”

Floyd stands up and fastens a button on his suit jacket. “You and I both know that you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need the treaty. Face it, Blackthorne. We’re in the same boat whether you like it or not.”

I push myself off the table and fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t give a shit if you and I are humanity’s last chance at survival. If you cross me, I will not hesitate to make sure the entire boat sinks.”

Floyd shoves one hand into his pocket. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement, and Mathew Natori rises to his feet. He slicks back his dark hair, and his eyes dart between the two of us. “We’re here to discuss the terms of the treaty. Mr. Natori doesn’t like it when people waste his time. He had his doubts about you, Blackthorne, but it’s clear that you’re too pussy whipped and weak to see this through.”

With that, the Natori representative spins on his heels and pushes his chair back. His men fall into step beside him and form a half-circle around the door. Mathew’s hand is inches away from the knob when I take my gun out of the waistband of my pants and point it at his back.

No one flinches or breathes when I fire a warning shot, and the bullet lodges itself into the wall, inches away from Natori’s hand. He whips around to face me, his eyes blazing with fury. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? We’re here under peaceful terms.”

I lower the gun and give him a pointed look. “And this meeting isn’t over until I say it is. So, unless you want to go back to your boss and tell him that you started another war, I’d suggest you sit back down.”

Natori and his men exchange a few uneasy looks.

“I’m only going to warn you one more time.” I lift the gun back up and point it directly at him. “I will shoot you where you fucking stand. Do not test me.”

Mathew stiffens, and a long moment passes.

His men take their own guns out, but they don’t know where to point them. I have more men in this room than anyone else, and all of them are poised and ready to fight our way out if needed. Turning this conference room into a bloodbath isn’t my intention.

But if that’s what it takes to get my point across, so be it. The Blackthorne name will not be dragged through the mud, not by them or anyone else.

My mind is racing to come up with a spin, a way to get us out of this mess, but I see no way forward. Not without more blood spilled.

None of the other Blackthornes are going to be happy, but the Natoris and Philipses have been goading me since they stepped foot through the double doors.

In their eyes, reaching out to broker a treaty is a sign of weakness. But I’ve never been one to see eye to eye with everyone else. Not where politics are concerned.

Letting the treaty burn doesn’t benefit anyone, least of all the Blackthornes, but if they continue to push me, I will hunt down each and every last one of my enemies and make sure they suffer. The longer Mathew and I stand there, silently facing off, the more uneasy everyone else becomes.

Finally, just as I’m preparing to cut my losses, Mathew shifts and walks back to his chair with his head held high and a muscle ticking in his jaw. His men take a few steps back until they reach the walls. He links his fingers together and gives me a long and measured look.

I’ve made a personal enemy of Mathew Natori.

I don’t lower my gun when I glance around the room. “In case you forgot, we could’ve wiped you out. We can still end your entire fucking bloodlines if we want. The Blackthornes aren’t here because we have no other choice. We’re here because we want to be, so it’s time to start showing a little more respect.”

Otherwise, I’m going to start dropping bodies again, regardless of what anyone else thinks. I’m angry enough to do something stupid.

A long moment passes, and no one objects.

With a smile, I set the gun down back down on the table and clear my throat. “Good. Now, we will honor the original terms of the agreement. It’s half of our properties split between the two of you.”

The Natoris and Philipses exchange a tense look.

“I know you’ve been building warehouses in the slums of the city,” I continue, my voice changing and growing harder. “It’s five warehouses so far, isn’t it? It would be a goddamn shame if something were to happen to them.”

Floyd Philips’ gaze flicks over to me. “Damn it, Blackthorne. We have an agreement.”

I shrug. “I don’t like weasels.”

Mathew Natori is holding himself as still as a statue. “What do you really want, Blackthorne?”

“I don’t like rats and weasels in my city,” I add in a louder voice. “But sometimes, you need rats and weasels to remind people who is the lesser of two evils. I know you were working with Donahue.”

Another tense moment passes.

“Since he’s no longer in the picture, I’ve thought of another way for you to make it up to me.” I glance between the two of them and nod to Tristan, who steps forward and sets a laptop down on the table. He opens it and spins it in their direction. “I want Lilian McCoy. And as a gesture of good faith, I’m increasing the bounty on her head.”

“We don’t know—”

I hold a hand up. “I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses, Philips. I know she was helping you, so that means you’ve still got an open line of communication with her. Bring me Lilian, or the whole deal is off.”

Mathew’s face is burning red. “You can’t do that.”

I snap the laptop shut and pick my gun back up. “Oh, I can, and I will. We will blow up every last warehouse, and I will make it my personal mission to hunt down every last one of your men.”

For the first time since the meeting started, I have their full attention. It feels good to realize that I’m the one who’s in control. And all it took was one angry and wronged mole in their ranks to give me everything I needed.

They’ve unknowingly handed me the blueprints to their own destruction, and they don’t even know it. I’m going to enjoy watching them squirm.

With a shrug, I put my gun away and step back. “I’m not an unreasonable man. You have one day to consider the new terms of the agreement.”

Without waiting for a response, I stride away from them. Their eyes follow me outside and down the steps of the empty building on the outskirts of town. In the distance, I see Ernesto’s car parked while he leans against it, casually scanning the surroundings from behind dark sunglasses. Having the meeting on the outskirts of the city, in the middle of an abandoned neighborhood, isn’t the best idea they’ve ever had.

But it’s suited my purposes fine. Because I’ve got my men everywhere, ready to step out if need be.

After spending two whole days in Anita’s dining room, fine-tuning the details of the plan with Tristan and a few other men, all that was left for me to do was call for backup.

With Blackthornes in every corner of the world, it didn’t take long for them to show up at Anita’s door.

There is a loud cacophony of voices, and I spin around to watch the Natoris and Philipses spilling out of the building. Floyd Philips makes a beeline for me, and Tristan and Lorenzo step forward to stop him. He tries to push his way past them, spittle flying out of his mouth and his small body holding more rage and arrogance than I thought possible.

I step forward, take Floyd’s hand, and twist it back hard enough to make a popping sound. He growls in pain and leaps backward and away from me. But I’m not done with him.

Tristan, Lorenzo, and the others part, allowing me to pass through. Floyd is cradling his broken hand against his chest, a sickly sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You’re a sick son of a bitch, do you know that?”

I shove Floyd against the wall hard enough to make his teeth rattle. Then I bring my knee up and hit him in the stomach, making him wheeze. “You’re not telling me something I don’t know already, Floyd. Do you want to know what the difference is between you and me? I don’t give a flying fuck what you or anyone else thinks of me.”

Floyd’s eyes tighten as he spits in my face.

Behind me, I hear my men struggling with his. I spare them a quick look over my shoulder and smile when I realize that Lorenzo and a few others have them on their knees. Then I look back at Floyd, who has lost some of the color in his face.

“You brought more men,” Floyd realizes, his voice growing in horror. “The agreement was—”

I punch Floyd in the stomach. “The terms of the agreement changed when you and the Natoris met up behind my back and started getting greedy. I warned you about what would happen if you crossed me. Did you really think I wasn’t going to come prepared?”

Or that I was going to walk in here with my tail between my legs?

I grab Floyd by the scruff of his neck and give him a firm shake. “I know you’re not the head of the Philips family, Floyd. I don’t give a shit how many more lies you’ve told me, but from now on, things are going to change.”

Floyd has blood on his lip, and it’s dripping down the sides of his chin. “You can’t beat us, Blackthorne. You’re bluffing, and we can always go after your little whore—”

I throw Floyd onto the ground and press a gun to the side of his head. “Go ahead and finish that sentence. I’ll make your own men clean up the blood stains when I’m through.”

Floyd swallows and presses his lips together.

I take a step forward and remove the safety on the gun, the click echoing in the stillness around me. “Well? I’m waiting.”

Floyd’s mouth parts, but he makes a low wheezing sound.

I crouch and hold Floyd’s gaze. “You’ve got five seconds, or I’m going to start dropping bodies.”

Floyd gives me an angry look, more and more sweat pouring down his face.

I exhale and stand up. “One.”

I aim at one of Floyd’s men and shoot him in the chest. He crumples into a heap on the ground, blood seeping through his white shirt and onto the pavement below.

“Two.” I aim at another man and shoot him in the thigh, so he starts hopping back and forth on his feet. More and more of the Philips men are looking nervous and inching away from each other. When I aim at another one of them, panic breaks out, and a few of them dart in the opposite direction.

A few of my men jump out from behind the surrounding buildings and tackle them.

I glance back at Floyd and offer him a chilling smile. “I can keep going.”

Gingerly, Floyd rises to his feet and holds his hands up. “I get the fucking point, Blackthorne.”

I point my gun at Mathew, who goes as white as a sheet. “How about you, Natori? Have I made my point clear?”

Mathew steps forward and curls his hands into fists at his side. “Crystal.”

I lower my gun and pause to pat Mathew on the back. “Good. I’ll wait for the call.”

With one last look in their direction, I get into the back of Ernesto’s SUV. Tristan gets into the front, and a few more men pile into the back. Then Ernesto peels away from the curb, and I watch through the colored glass as more and more Blackthorne men descend upon our enemies.

My only regret is that I won’t be able to watch it all unfold.

When my phone starts blaring with one angry message after the other, I switch it off. I lean back against the leather seats, pour myself a drink, and study the world blurring past outside. Ernesto pulls onto the highway and joins a line of traffic.

In the rearview mirror, he looks up and holds my gaze.

“That went well.” I take a long sip of my drink and lean back. “It’ll teach those motherfuckers to cross us.”

Tristan twists to face me, a few specks of dried blood caked on the side of his face. “Do you think it’ll be enough to make them heel?”

“It should, and if it isn’t, we put our second plan into motion.”

Tristan frowns and twists back, so he’s facing the front. “Anita is going to be pissed.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Since it was her idea to contact her half-brother, an uncle I’d never met who led the Blackthorne branch in Hong Kong, Anita now has to deal with the fallout. I will not apologize for how I handled things. Not if it means allowing all that hard work to go to waste.

Because of me, the Blackthorne empire will live to see another day, and I know that once Anita gets over her shock, she’ll understand.

She has to.

I fish my phone out of my pocket, switch it back on, and dial Isabella’s number. While I wait for her to pick up, I press the button to lift the partitions up. Enclosed in my own little bubble, I lean back and unfasten a few buttons on my shirt.

Isabella picks up on the last ring, sounding breathless. “Hi.”

I take another sip of my drink. “Enjoying yourself without me, dove?”

“I fell asleep,” Isabella replies with a yawn. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll be home a little late. I’ve got a few things to take care of.”

“I’ll wait up for you,” Isabella replies after a brief pause. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Don’t go anywhere by yourself. Don’t go anywhere at all if you can.”

Isabella opens her mouth to protest, but I hang up, not wanting to hear the rest of her sentence. When I lean back against the chair, my glass is empty, and the tight feeling in my chest hasn’t abated. Although I’ve been looking forward to teaching my enemies a lesson, it doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would.

Once Ernesto screeches to a halt outside of Sing Sing prison, I button my shirt up all the way and wipe away the dried blood on my hands and face. Then I get out of the car, and Ernesto falls into step beside me. Inside, the guards recognize us and wave us through rows and rows of other visitors. We are led down a series of hallways with chipped paint and the faint underlying smell of sweat and urine.

At the end of the hallway, the prison guard with a bald head and a protruding belly removes a key from his belt loop. He pushes the door open with a creak, revealing former Mayor Frances in an orange jumpsuit, with his back pressed against a small bed. Frances doesn’t open his eyes or react when he hears us.

The guard nods in the direction of the camera and gives Ernesto a meaningful look.

“I was wondering when you’d be back.” Without opening his eyes, Frances rises to his feet. His hair is white now and thinning, but he’s got a determined set to his shoulders. “Come to finish what you started?”

I glance at Ernesto, who pulls the door shut and presses his back against the wall. When I look back at Frances, he has his arms folded over his chest and an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes. “Do you know what you are, Carter Blackthorne?”

I roll the sleeves of my shirt up to my elbows. Then I take off my jacket and hand it to Ernesto, who drapes it over his arm. “You love hearing the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

Frances’ eyes don’t leave my face. “Not as much as you do.”

I close the distance between us and punch Frances in the stomach. “It takes one to know one. Do you know why you would’ve been a shit mayor? Because you don’t have the guts to do what needs to be done.”

Frances winces but doesn’t respond.

I land another punch to his stomach, and Frances’ knees give out. He throws his head back to look up at me, and I hold his gaze for a few seconds. Abruptly, I land another punch, aiming for his jaw. Little pinpricks of pain dance up and down my arms, but I don’t care.

It feels good to have some control back, especially after the past couple of weeks.

While a part of me is worried about what I’m going to find when I go home to Isabella, I try to push that out of my mind. Not only do I have no semblance of control where her trauma is concerned, but I also know that if I dwell on it for too long, it’s going to drive me crazy.

For both our sakes, I need to remain calm and collected. My dove needs the smart and calculating man she first met. Not the version of me that’s been pacing the entire length of Anita’s house while red-hot rage burned through me.

That Carter isn’t of use to anyone.

I pull Frances up to his feet and take a knife out of my sock. Smirking, I hand it to him. “Go ahead and fight back.”

Frances’ dark eyes glitter as he swipes, missing my side by a few inches. I raise an eyebrow, duck, and land a punch to his ribs. He wheezes and then spins around to face me. Frances manages a small swipe to my arm, but before the first drop falls onto the floor, I have him in a chokehold. He bucks and writhes, and we spin in a circle.

My ears are ringing now as I release Frances, and he lunges at me.

Without missing a beat, I kick the knife out of his hand, and it falls to the floor with a clatter. “You really are a pathetic and sad little fucker.”

Frances twists his head to the side and spits out a mouthful of blood. “And you’re a psychopathic bully with a long trail of bodies.”

I throw another punch, and Frances doubles over. “At least I’m man enough to do it myself. You’re here in a jail cell because you don’t have the balls to do what needs to be done.”

Frances uses the back of his hand to wipe away the mixture of blood and sweat. “And how is that working out for you, huh? How do you think your precious little Isabella is going to feel when she finds out what you’ve done?”

I have Frances up against the wall before the words finish leaving his lips. “You’re a dead man walking, you piece of shit. Do you really want to make this worse for yourself?”

Frances draws his lips back to reveal bloodied and yellowed teeth. “How do you think your kid is going to feel when he’s old enough to know the truth about you? That poor bastard is better off on the street than with a man like you.”

I’m pummeling Frances so hard that I don’t even realize we’re on the floor until Ernesto pulls me back. He places both hands under my armpits and helps me stand up. I’m still seeing red, and even though there is blood everywhere and Frances’ face is disfigured, it doesn’t quell the rage still burning inside of me.

It’s consuming me whole, and I have to punch the wall a few times to get it out of my system.

By the time I’m done, Frances has crawled away from me and is pressed against the wall. He has snot, blood, and sweat running down the sides of his face and all over his clothes. I wipe my bloody knuckles against the sides of my pants and straighten my back. Ernesto hands me a napkin, and I take my time, my eyes never leaving Frances.

He is trembling all over and sputtering incoherently.

“At least pull yourself together,” I tell him with disgust. Ernesto hands me the jacket, and I pull it back on. “What did you think was going to happen when you reached out to Lilian, huh?”

Frances’ face pales further, and he links his fingers together. “Please, I—”

I hold a hand up. “Save it. I’ve kept you alive this long before you were useful. Now, you’re not useful anymore, and there’s nothing I like less than a two-timing snake.”

Frances crawls forward, making a mess all over the floor. “I’ll do anything.”

I’m unmoved by his pleas as he latches onto my pant leg and tugs.

When I glance over at Ernesto, he has straightened up and has his fists clenched at his sides. “Even though you don’t deserve it, I’m going to make sure it doesn’t hurt too much. For old times’ sake.”

Frances is still a blubbering mess when I push the door open and step outside.

A few moments later, Ernesto comes back out, Frances’ sputtering pleas still reverberating inside of our head. Ernesto gives me a quick look before gesturing to the nearest guard. After a quick conversation, Ernesto’s hand darts out, and I can almost see him slip a wad of cash into the man’s jacket.

As soon as he’s done, Ernesto walks back over to me and nods. “Where to next, boss?”

“I think it’s time the mayor and I have a chat in person.”

***

At the mayor’s office, another security guard crumples into a heap on the floor, and I step over him. He makes a low sputtering sound as I wipe my bloodied knuckles on a tissue and glance over at Ernesto, who has another guard by the scruff of his neck. After landing another punch, Ernesto and I look around to make sure all the cameras are down.

Getting into the mayor’s office wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. But I know this isn’t going to be our only hiccup. Getting out is going to be a lot harder after I’m done with the mayor.

With a smile, I lift my leg up and give the door a firm kick. It emits a slight creaking sound, but it doesn’t budge. I kick it again, harder this time, and the wood cracks. My smile vanishes as I use all my strength to kick the door open, and it gives under the pressure, falling backward with a thud. As soon as it does, it sends dust and little splinters of wood in every direction.

Whistling, I step into the room and glance around, taking in the bookcases propped against the wall and a door leading into a connecting tile-floored bathroom. Finally, I settle on a rectangular-shaped mahogany desk with a window overlooking a park and Mayor Hughes standing behind it. He has a glass of whiskey in hand, and a few locks of hair have escaped his neat part.

When I notice the tremor in his free hand, he shifts to hide it behind his back. “Carter Blackthorne, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

I unfasten a button on my jacket and sit down. “It’s rude not to offer your guests a drink.”

Mayor Hughes raises an eyebrow. “I would if you were my guest.”

I chuckle. “Fair enough. I did barge in here unannounced. In my defense, it’s extremely hard to book an appointment. Your secretary wasn’t happy at all when we just showed up.”

A wad of cash is all it took to get her out from behind the desk and scrambling out the door after pausing to punch in the security code for us. After that, getting the rest of the women to leave was a lot simpler than I imagined, leaving only the mayor’s lackeys and his security guards.

Up close, he’s a lot less intimidating than on TV. And a lot less powerful.

As I sit across from him, studying the tight lines on his face and the small balding spot, I can’t help the incredulous laugh that falls from my lips.

Mayor Hughes frowns. “What’s so funny?”

I exhale. “I was just expecting more. It feels like you and I have known each other a lot longer, don’t you think?”

Mayor Hughes takes another sip of his drink, his bright hazel eyes never leaving my face. “I can’t say it’s one of my more pleasant acquaintances.”

I stand up and do up my free button. “That’s a shame because I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”

Mayor Hughes doesn’t say anything.

Quickly, I lunge over the desk and grab him by the scruff of his neck. Hughes pales as more and more of the color drains from his face. His Adam’s apple bobs, and I can smell the sweat already pouring down the back of his neck and the sides of his face. When he swallows, it’s an audible sound that makes my lips lift into a half-smile.

The city’s dear mayor doesn’t have as much courage as I thought he did. Like everyone else in power, he’s too weak to do the dirty work himself.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this,” I say in a low voice. “You and I both know this has to stop.”

Hughes sputters and tries to squirm out of my grasp. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I roll my eyes. “You should take credit, Hughes. You did fund my enemies, after all, but do you want to know why it didn’t work?”

Hughes’ eyes move steadily over my face, his breathing growing quicker and more erratic.

I bring my face closer to his. “Because you backed the wrong horse. Now, unless you want to end up like your friends, I’d suggest you back the fuck off.”

Hughes trembles and nods.

I give him a firm shake, and he drops the glass, which falls to the floor with a shatter. “What was that?”

“Fine,” Hughes replies through gritted teeth. “You and I have an understanding.”

I jump over the rest of the desk and release Hughes. He takes an uncertain step back as I reach into the waistband of my pants for my gun. When I point it at him, he throws his arms up on either side of him, and his eyes go wide.

“I already told you we have an agreement, damn it.”

I remove the safety and roll my shoulders. “I heard you, but see, that’s not good enough anymore. I want her fucking location. And don’t try to pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

Hughes’ lips part, and he makes a low choked sound.

“I’m going to count back from ten, and when I’m done, I’m going to shoot a body part. After that, I’ll shoot another part and so on until you tell me where Lilian McCoy is.”

Hughes’ hands drop to his sides. “I don’t know where she is.”

I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. Ten… nine… eight…”

Hughes lurches forward, his eyes wild and unfocused. “Okay, alright. She’s hiding in a property that I own on the outskirts of the city. I’ll write down the address for you.”

After writing something on a piece of paper and handing it to me, I press the gun to his temple. “If I find out you’re trying to fuck with me, I’ll cut you up into pieces and hide them all over the city, so no one will be able to find you again.”