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

Chapter Fourteen

Carter

I take another swig of my beer and give the burly man with tattoos up and down both arms a dismissive look. “You’re not worth my fucking time, princess. Now, get the fuck out of my face.”

A few curious looks are thrown our way from the other patrons.

The bald-headed bartender stands up straighter and removes a few empty glasses. “I don’t think you want to do that.”

The burly man spins around to face me and covers the distance between us. “What did you just say to me?”

I take a long sip of my beer and size him up.

In spite of his size and bulging muscles, I know I can take this man on with one hand tied behind my back. Not only is he favoring one foot over the other, but it’s clear by the flaring of his nostrils and the confident set of his shoulders that he’s used to ruling unopposed.

This bar is his domain, and I’m the intruder. But I can’t bring myself to give a fuck.

Especially when he places a hand on my arm and sneers at me. “You want to run that by me again?”

In one quick move, I shove the man back, and he staggers. Then I throw a punch to his stomach, which has him doubling over in pain. It doesn’t keep him down for long as he draws himself back up and lunges at me. I’m knocked off my feet and thrown against the counter, the breath leaving my body with a whooshing sound.

Some of my earlier buzz is already vanishing.

I link my fingers over the guy’s neck and hoist myself up.

Startled, his grip loosens, and I climb over his shoulders and land on the other side. When I tap him on the shoulder, he’s slow to react, and I throw another punch, this time connecting with the side of his face. I relish the sickening sound of muscle connecting with flesh, especially when the man scowls and spits.

He lunges at me again, but this time, I’m prepared, and I jump out of his way, holding my leg out as I do. Although he tries to skid to a halt, he can’t avoid my leg and ends up tripping over it and crashing against an empty table in the back, sending a few plates and glasses to the floor with a loud crash. I have time for a quick sip of my drink before he spins back around and eyes me like I’m his prey.

In the background, music continues to play, and there’s a steady rise and fall of conversation around us. No one pays us much attention as I hold the man in a headlock, and we spin around in a circle while he tries to gain the upper hand.

Fucking bull. It’s no wonder I’m able to take him on easily. He isn’t even challenging at this point.

When I do let him go, he staggers back and gives me a withering look. I keep my eyes on him as I take a few steps back till I reach the bar. Then I take a few sips of my drink. He talks to another smaller man, his chest rising and falling unevenly. I turn my back on him to gesture for another drink, and he lunges at me again.

I grunt as he pushes me against the bar.

With a frown, I punch him again, sending droplets of blood in every direction. Suddenly, two large, burly men materialize before us, and they don’t look pleased. One of them shoves my opponent outside, muttering to him the entire way. The other one tries to do the same to me, but I keep ducking out of reach.

Adrenaline bursts through me as we circle each other until he grows impatient.

When the second bouncer returns, the two of them advance on me until I stumble out of the double doors and onto the dimly lighted street. I draw myself up to my full height and try to fight them, but neither of them is taking the bait. Eventually, one of them holds me down while the other punches me in the stomach.

Stars burst in my field of vision, but I don’t care. It feels good to feel something other than the pain of being apart from Isabella.

I crumple into a heap on the ground as the two of them hit me again, sending another sharp bolt of pain through me. When I lift my head up and look at them, I give them both a bloody smile. Then, I spit out a mouthful of blood onto the pavement. The two of them exchange a quick and uneasy look before shaking their heads. One of them, the shorter one, steps forward and pauses.

“I’d think twice if I were you.”

I push myself to my feet and squint over my shoulder, frowning at Tristan, who leaves Ernesto’s side and takes a step in my direction. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Tristan doesn’t acknowledge me as he steps forward and folds his arms over his chest. “We got a problem here?”

A long and tense moment passes.

Slowly, Tristan pulls his jacket back, revealing the outline of the gun hidden in the waistband of his jeans. Both of my assailants stem their aggressiveness and take involuntary steps back. Without warning, they spin on their heels and scurry back inside, the doors thudding shut behind them. I wait until they’re far enough away to push Tristan.

He loses his balance and gives me a confused look. “What the hell?”

“I don’t need your fucking help,” I snap, pausing to spit out another mouthful of blood. “I had it under control.”

Tristan raises an eyebrow. “How is getting the shit beat out of you having it under control?”

I press Tristan against the nearest wall and bear my bloodied teeth at him. “None of your fucking business, that’s how.”

Tristan doesn’t look fazed as his dark eyes study my face. “This really isn’t good for you, Carter.”

I place one hand on either side of his shoulders and give him a firm shake. “Don’t tell me you came here to waste my goddamn time by playing shrink.”

Tristan shrugs. “Maybe I have.”

I shove Tristan again, but it’s not as satisfying as I want it to be. And it doesn’t drown out the voices in my head.

After a long moment, I release Tristan and take a few steps back. “You’re not worth the effort anyway.”

Tristan adjusts the collar of his jacket. “I’m glad you think so highly of me.”

Ignoring him, I wrench the back door of Ernesto’s SUV open and pat around in the semi-darkness. When my fingers close around the familiar bottle, I smile and take it out. Then I spin around to face Tristan, press the bottle to my lips, and take a large swig.

The familiar liquid burns a path down my throat, chasing away some of the knots in my stomach.

Every last part of me is sore. But I know it isn’t enough. If I have any hope of being able to sleep tonight, I need to find someone else who can take me on.

Tristan shoves one hand into his pocket and studies me. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot what?”

“He’s been like that since he came to stay with me,” Ernesto replies with an exhale. “I’m out of ideas.”

I spit at their feet. “Both of you better stop fucking talking right now, or one of you is going to go home with a limp.”

Tristan takes a step in my direction. “You’re supposed to be working on your shit. Is this really what you’ve been doing the past two weeks? Fuck, man. You should see how this is affecting Isabella—”

Before the words finish leaving his lips, I have him shoved against the wall again. Carefully, I set the bottle down on the ground, letting it rest against the wall. Then I yank Tristan back and punch him in the stomach. He winces and doesn’t say anything.

I punch him again, hitting him squarely in the jaw this time, but Tristan makes no move to get away from me. If anything, it’s like he’s drawing on every ounce of self-control to hold himself still. To fight against being my human punching bag.

But I can’t bring myself to stop.

Not when it feels good to direct my anger and frustration at anyone other than myself. I yank Tristan back up by the scruff of his neck and land another blow to his ribs. He stares at a spot over my shoulder, eyes glazed over with pain. Abruptly, I shove him away and fold both arms over my chest.

Why isn’t it working? Why do I still feel the ache in the center of my chest?

Tonight, I can’t outrun Isabella, no matter how much or hard I try.

I’ve spent the past two weeks prowling the streets and looking for excuses to beat the shit out of people, all in an effort to forget. The first night I stumbled home, Ernesto was stunned and tried to get me to the nearest hospital, but my bruises kept the nightmares at bay. Instead of tossing and turning and missing Isabella, I’d spent the majority of the night scowling at my pain and drowning my feelings in whiskey.

And I’d spent every night since then doing the same thing. I don’t need Tristan to come to my rescue. Hell, I don’t even know why he’s here, looking at me like that.

“Now that you’ve gotten that off your chest.” Tristan dusts himself off and winces. “We need to go.”

“You’ve been managing fucking fine without me.” I bend down to pick up my bottle and take another long swig. Exhaling, I use the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. “What the hell do you need me for?”

Tristan blows out a breath and gestures to Ernesto.

Together, the two of them urge me into the back of the car. A part of me is tempted to take both of them on, just for the thrill of being able to, but the other part of me doesn’t care what they do. With a shrug, I let them think they won, and I catch the relieved looks on their faces as they get into the front of the vehicle before Ernesto starts the engine.

The streets of the city are mostly empty and lit up in yellow fluorescent lightning.

I press my face to the glass and study the half-shaped moon outside my window. Then I take a few more sips from the bottle, the pounding in the back of my skull turning into a dull roar. Ernesto has both hands on the wheel, and Tristan is messaging on his phone. In spite of their best attempts at drawing me into conversation, I don’t give either of them the time of day.

Not when I want to kick their teeth in and leave both in a crumpled heap on the ground. Instead, I keep trying and doing my best to shove any and all thoughts of Isabella to the back of my mind.

Tristan twists to face me, and the bruise on his jaw is already an angry shade of red. “She’s fine by the way.”

“I didn’t ask,” I snap through gritted teeth. “You’re wasting your time.”

Because I’m not going back, not when I haven’t done anything to earn her trust back. Isabella deserves better than what I’ve been doing the past few weeks. Unfortunately, getting my shit together is proving to be a lot harder than I thought.

Ernesto screeches to a halt in an emptier part of the city, outside a cluster of older-looking buildings. He gets out of the car first and holds the door open for me. I exit the car and lift my gaze up, spotting the flickering light on the fifth floor. Tristan places an arm around my shoulders, but I shove him off.

In silence, the three of us climb the stairs.

I’m debating whether or not to walk through the doors when they burst open, and a few more familiar faces appear. Many of them do a double take when they see me, with my disheveled hair, wrinkled clothing, and droplets of blood staining the front of my shirt. I stride into the room with my back erect and my head held high.

I drop into the chair at the head of the table and glance around. No one wants to meet my gaze. I’m almost itching for them to give me the wrong look or step out of line in any way.

Why won’t any of them give me what I want?

“As you all know, we’re meeting here to take some of the heat off of Anita’s,” Tristan announces, with a quick look around. “Our usual meeting places are under surveillance by the Natoris and Philipses.”

A murmur rises through the room.

I place both legs on the table and link my fingers behind my head. “What do you fucking expect? You might as well send up a flare into the night sky, announcing where you are.”

A few looks are thrown my way, but no one has the nerve to say anything.

“We won’t be here long enough,” Tristan replies in the same even voice. “Thankfully, neither the Natoris nor the Philipses can afford to keep moving warehouses. As of an hour ago, we’ve managed to strike another one of their strongholds.”

“Whoop-dee-fucking-do.” I give Tristan a bored look and reach for the bottle again. My head is swimming, and my chest doesn’t feel as tight, so I keep drinking. “They’ve got enough money to keep moving, you fucking idiot. How are you going to stay one step ahead of them, huh?”

I drink until their voices fade into the background, and I can almost pretend I’m not here. Now and again, I feel his eyes on me, but Tristan doesn’t address me directly.

Ernesto and Lorenzo drift closer, and I shoot them both an angry look. Lorenzo falters and changes course while Ernesto remains by my side. From across the room, I see Paul studying the whole thing, with his arms folded over his chest and his back pressed against the wall.

Fucking weasel.

I always knew he was a weak link. They all are.

I don’t understand why I keep wasting my time with them or why I have to babysit a bunch of grown-ass men who’ve been in the business as long as I have. Goddamn incompetent bastards.

While Tristan and the others are discussing their plan, I stand up and walk out of the room. Ernesto’s footsteps follow close behind me as I walk across the hallway and make a beeline for the window. Shoving it open, I stick my head out and allow the fresh air to slap me across the face. By the time Tristan comes out, I’m on my last sip of the bottle, and I don’t feel like killing him anymore.

Downstairs, Anita and Daniel are waiting for us, faces half-obscured by the shadows. My aunt takes one look at my face and frowns.

I don’t see anything as I get into the back of the car and lean against the leather seats. In the side mirror, I see Anita get into the car with Daniel, bright headlights making spots dance in my field of vision. I scowl and squeeze my eyes shut. The car lurches to life, and I sink my nails into the seats under me.

A short while later, Ernesto pulls up outside his apartment building. Wordlessly, he leads us all upstairs.

I brush past everyone and head straight for the kitchen. After rummaging around, I pull out a bottle of whiskey and use my mouth to pry the cap open. Once I spit it out, I chug straight from the bottle, enjoying the numbness settling over me.

It keeps Isabella’s image and what I did to her at bay. And if I have to drink every last bottle in the city to do that, I will.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Tristan steps in front of me and glances at the bottle. “That’s your second one today.”

“Back the fuck off,” I growl and push past him and into the living room. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

I sink into the couch and glance up, the four of them blurring together to form one shape.

“You can’t walk into a meeting looking like that, Carter.” Anita steps forward and peers at me. “It’s been two weeks.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What’s your fucking point?”

Anita’s brows furrow together. “My point is that you’re dismantling everything you worked hard to build. In the past two weeks alone, you’ve managed to call into question everything you’ve done, including your position as head of the family.”

I shrug and take another sip of my drink. “It was being called into fucking question anyway. For months, even. What difference does it make?”

Especially when none of it holds the same appeal as it once did. Whenever I try to picture the future, the thought of doing any of it without Isabella casts a shadow over everything.

None of it means anything without her. None of it ever will again.

For the first time in a long time, I almost want to watch it all burn, if only so it’s no longer a problem for Isabella and me.

Daniel takes a few steps forward. “I’d like to talk to Carter alone.”

Anita and the others exchange a look.

Ernesto motions to the terrace, and the three of them pile outside. I listen to chairs being dragged against the floor, then silence. Daniel sinks into the armchair opposite me and links his fingers together. I stare at him for so long that his features start to resemble my father’s. It makes my chest tighten, so I hastily glance away and blink furiously.

“This whole self-sabotage thing isn’t going to solve anything,” Daniel begins in a low voice. “I know you’re trying to deal with some things, but this isn’t the way to do it.”

I level Daniel with a withering look. “If I want your fucking opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

“You’re going to get it anyway,” Daniel replies without missing a beat. “I’ve been watching you the past few weeks, Carter, and it’s obvious that your head isn’t in it anymore.”

I’m on my feet before the words finish leaving his mouth. “Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You can’t just show up out of the fucking blue and act like you know something. You don’t know shit.”

Slowly, Daniel rises to his feet and pauses to fasten a button on his jacket. “I know enough. You’re a lot like your dad, Carter, and he also struggled with his responsibilities.”

“Fuck you.” I bare my teeth at Daniel, the urge to put his face through a wall growing stronger and stronger. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough. I’ve seen enough, and I knew your dad.”

I take another long sip of my drink, chasing oblivion as it drifts further and further away. “What the hell are you even doing here? It’s fucking pathetic how you keep sniffing around us like some kind of dog.”

Daniel’s eyes flash, but the rest of his features remain composed. “You need me, Carter. You’re not ready to admit that yet, but I know if I stick around long enough, you’ll be able to see it. All you need is to reconsider my offer.”

I press my lips together and give him another dirty look. Who the hell does he think he is anyway?

He can’t just show up here and act like he is owed anything.

I curl my hands into fists, and I give him a grim smile as I picture how it’ll feel to punch him. The door to the terrace slides open, and Anita steps out, shooting me a knowing look. With a growl, I unclench my hands and press two fingers to my temples.

Anita deserves better than watching me pummel her little brother. Even if he does deserve it.

“You’ll still be part of this family,” Daniel says as soon as Anita leaves. “You’ll still have our protection, but you won’t be involved in the day-to-day business. It’s the perfect setup for you, Carter, and you know it.”

“Even if I was considering it, which I’m not, the treaty has to go into effect first, or else you’re inheriting a fucking time bomb.”

Daniel’s eyes are glittering now, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “We can discuss the terms of a handover when you’re ready.”

I run a hand over my face. “You’re lucky I love Anita, or I’d have put your fucking face through the wall.”

The smile on his face is stronger now. “I’m aware of that, Carter.”