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

Chapter Nineteen

Carter

I blow out a ring of smoke and stare at the man through the thin veil. “How much longer?”

“A few more minutes.” The greasy-haired man in front of me shifts from one foot to the other and then quickly looks over his shoulder. A few of the Natori men are on the other side of the street, their backs pressed against the wall with anxious looks on their faces. A few feet away, the Philips men stand, wearing identical grim expressions.

My men, on the other hand, look unperturbed and unaffected.

It’s exactly the way I want them to behave and what I’ve been trying to present to my enemies. Scattered and with a civil war brewing between our ranks, we’re of no use to each other. But since our last disastrous meeting, things have gotten much better—largely due to the fact that Daniel Blackthorne, my meddling uncle, no longer attends our meetings.

Not only has he been cautioned to stay away, but he also has business of his own to attend to, which is something that I am immensely grateful for. Having him around forces the men to draw comparisons, and it confuses them. The last thing I need is for them to descend into more chaos and unrest.

Not with the Natoris and Philipses breathing down our necks.

I’ve already had to put a few of their men in their places, much to the chagrin and displeasure of their leaders, but considering they were caught red-handed, no one was able to do anything to stop me.

They still can’t. Not unless they want the full might of the Blackthorne empire to descend upon them.

The Natoris and Philipses are greedy, manipulative, and reckless sons of bitches, but they’re not stupid, and they know better than to cross me, especially with how things have been going with the treaty. Although it’s been weeks, I know that the delays aren’t solely my fault.

During my prowling, I’ve made it a point to keep my ear pressed to the ground, and most of the chatter is about how the Natoris and Philipses are looking for a way out.

A red herring to back me against the wall.

Thankfully, no one in this city is ballsy enough to take me on, at least no one who’s still alive to talk about it.

I blow out another ring of smoke and look over at Tristan, who is leaning away from me, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “What the fuck is that look for?”

“Those things are going to kill you,” Tristan reminds me with a grimace. “Do I really need to be pointing that out?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Thanks for pointing out the fucking obvious. I had no clue.”

Tristan waves a hand in front of his face. “Everyone’s worried, Carter.”

“Everyone needs to do their own goddamn jobs and let me worry about mine,” I reply through gritted teeth. “If you can’t get that point across, I do have other ways to make sure they get my point.”

It’s been days since I beat up another man. Days since I’ve gotten into a fight that’ll help me alleviate some of the anger and tension.

Since running into Isabella and Sam at the bar, I can’t escape the image of myself as I walked back into the bar with dried blood on my knuckles and a haggard and wild look in my eyes. I’ve been replaying the image in my head since then, and it was enough for me to go straight to Ernesto’s and sleep off the hangover.

Every time I feel the pull of old habits, I see Isabella’s relieved face at the bar. Trying to keep my fists to myself is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.

But if I have any hope of figuring out how to redeem myself, I know it needs to start with my anger. A part of me is restless and eager to express my emotions in the only way I know how, but the other part of me is practicing restraint and hanging onto it by the skin of my teeth.

In the end, it’s the thought of Isabella that makes me stub out the cigarette and shove my hands into my pockets. It’s the image of her beautiful face in my mind that keeps me from marching over to my enemies and making them fall to their knees.

Already, I can picture how it’ll look to have them all on their hands and knees, begging for their lives. The image is so potent that I can almost smell their fear and their sweat wafting up my nostrils. I don’t realize I’m smirking until Tristan waves a hand in front of my face.

With a scowl, I gesture to the same greasy-haired man from earlier and push him up against the wall. Tristan lurches into action, but I stop him with one meaningful and long look. Immediately, he backs off and gives the others a curt end.

A tense silence settles over the gathered men.

All of us have been waiting for at least an hour, and I know exactly what they’re trying to pull. The Natoris and Philipses are trying to teach me a lesson because of the stunt I pulled last time, but I’ll be damned if I let this little stunt go unanswered.

This is my city, and I’m going to get that point across whether they like it or not.

“Where the fuck are they?”

“I told you, they’re—”

I pull him away from the wall and slam him again hard enough to make his teeth rattle. I’m sure he’s seeing stars at this point, and I see a little blood land on his bottom lip. I’m sure he bit his tongue, but I don’t care.

I want this meeting to be over, and I want the terms of the truce to be negotiated properly. It shouldn’t be taking this long.

“Let’s try this again,” I say, a little louder this time. I glance over my shoulder at the rest of the men who are gathered on the other side of the empty street, and a few of them grow tense. Others reach for the guns outlined underneath their jackets. After a quick glance in Tristan’s direction, a few more Blackthorne men emerge from the shadows, all of them advancing slowly and with their guns drawn.

Daniel and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but when it comes to the security and prosperity of the Blackthorne empire, he and I are in complete agreement. I’m oddly thankful that Anita brokered an unusual truce between us just to get us to stop going for each other’s throats.

“Where the fuck are the heads of the families we’re supposed to meet?”

The man opens his mouth and slams it shut again.

With a frown, I take my gun out and take a step back. I aim it at his temple, and the man begins to tremble. Every inch of him is shaking violently. After forcing him to his knees, I press the gun to the back of his head and glance around the dimly lit street.

None of the men in attendance look pleased, but at least they don’t look surprised. Trying to avoid violence doesn’t mean I won’t act on it when it’s necessary. Otherwise, we’d all be buried alive within days.

As much as I love Isabella, I know I can’t risk any of this spiraling out of control or for any of our enemies to catch even a whiff of my uncertainty—or my reluctance to draw more blood.

Goddamn moral compass.

Of all the times for Isabella to ask me to grow one, did it have to be in the middle of a fucking war? Did it have to be with the Natoris and Philipses, of all people?

Fucking hell.

Before, I wouldn’t have hesitated to leave a trail of dead bodies in my wake for the other men to clean up. Now, I’m counting backward from ten and trying to come up with a compelling enough reason not to put a bullet through this man’s brain. By the time I reach the last number, I’ve all but resigned myself to the inevitable until we hear tires screeching in the distance. Bright headlights flood the dark street, nearly blinding us all.

Two cars screech to a halt a few feet away, but the engines are still running.

I squint and spot the top of Mathew Natori’s head first, glistening underneath the pale glow of the moon. Then I see Floyd Philips get out of the back of the same car, pausing to fasten a button on his jacket. The two of them exchange a quick look, and the car engines are shut off, plunging us all into silence.

A long moment passes during which nobody does anything. I know exactly what they’re trying to do, but it’s pissing me off. Because I don’t like it when my enemies flex and try to hammer their point across.

Humiliating them last time obviously stung more than I intended it to, and they’ve been clamoring to save face since then. Although showing up late to a meeting they called isn’t the smartest strategic move, I’m big enough to understand what it means.

They mean business.

And with the mayor no longer backing them up, they can no longer afford to make mistakes. Not the expensive kind, at least.

A part of me is almost impressed at the lengths they’re willing to go to in order to stick to their guns. If it weren’t for the fact that they’ve tried to screw me over time and again, I’d be recruiting them as my allies, but I’ve had enough rats and snakes to last me a lifetime.

With a frown, I pull their man up to his knees, the gun still pressed to the back of his head. “You’re an hour late.”

Floyd is the one who steps forward in a crisp and custom-made suit. “We had other business to attend to. We figured you wouldn’t mind waiting.”

I push the man down to his knees, allowing the bright headlights to illuminate his sickly complexion. “As a matter of fact, I do fucking mind. It’s clear that you need reminding of who’s in charge here.”

After casting a quick look at Tristan, he steps forward and clasps his hands behind his back.

“Your little display of unity and defiance is going to cost you,” I pause and scrunch up my nose in concentration. “What is the going rate for disrespect these days? One warehouse? Two? Or is it two businesses?”

Mathew Natori’s phone rings, startling a few of the men standing behind them. I count five of them in total, all of them with broad shoulders, buzz cuts, and guns held in their hands. While I know for a fact that I can take them out without breaking a sweat, that isn’t my goal.

Not tonight.

I’m not here to send a message or push them to the brink of another bloodbath.

Contrary to what they believe, I want this treaty to go through as much as they do because it is taking up too much time and energy and detracting from other, more important ventures.

I want to return home to Isabella, but I know that I need to see this through and give the empire a fighting chance to stand on its own two legs without me. Unfortunately, I don’t see a way forward without either of the rats in attendance.

So, if it means getting someone else’s hands dirty, they’re just going to have to get used to the stink.

Mathew barks something out in a clipped tone, in a language I don’t recognize. Then he hangs up, straightens his back, and looks directly at me. “You’ve made your point.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Have I? See, we’ve got a problem here because I don’t actually believe you. Last time should’ve been enough.”

A muscle ticks in Mathew’s jaw, but he resists looking at his partner in crime. Floyd Philips, on the other hand, looks appropriately smug.

All I have to do is apply the right amount of pressure, and he’ll crack.

“So, the rumors are true,” I continue, my voice rising toward the end. “You still have funding for your operations.”

Floyd’s arrogant smile grows wider. “I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out. You’re not as short-sighted as people make you ought to be, Blackthorne.”

I aim my gun at him and fire, and it sails past his ear and lodges itself into the arm of the man standing behind him. The man howls in pain and jumps backward.

“You’re as stupid as I thought you were, Floyd,” I tell him, drawing my mouth back to reveal my teeth. “Why call another meeting if you’re going to waste our fucking time again?”

It doesn’t make sense. With the backing of a new investor, all the two families need is time to regroup and build their strength back up.

The Blackthornes, on the other hand, are dangerously close to hemorrhaging money. Without the ability to get our businesses completely back on track, we’re not going to last much longer. I feel like an idiot for taking my eye off the prize long enough not to anticipate this.

How the hell did they find another backer when I’ve had them under surveillance? Most of the city reports to me, with a few stragglers here and there, which means I have a tight grip at all times.

Except for now.

Mathew Natori steps out from behind the car door and slams it shut. “We still want to come to an understanding when it comes to the treaty.”

I lower my gun and motion for him to continue.

“We want a bigger piece of the docks. In exchange, we’ll return to the original terms of the treaty when it comes to everything else.”

I lower my gun, my mind racing with possibilities.

The docks are worth far more than most of the businesses, and allowing them to fall into the wrong hands has the potential to bring everything crashing down. However, there’s no denying the appeal of having the rest of the city under my control, with the exception of a small section of land dedicated to them.

The two families can swallow each other alive for control for all I care. It’s exactly why I backed them into the same corner.

Even I know their little alliance is only going to last while they’re focused on taking me out. As soon as I’m no longer a problem, they’re going to turn on each other, and I’ll be left to reap the spoils. With a smirk, I lift my gun up and point it directly at Natori.

He doesn’t flinch or look away. “I can tell you’re interested.”

“What I am is pissed off,” I snap, with a growl in his direction. “And since you keep stalling, new terms need to be added to the agreement to ensure that you don’t step out of line.”

Mathew doesn’t say anything.

“For every infraction and every variation, you lose a piece of the docks,” I continue, my voice being carried over by the wind. “Of course, it’ll be applied on all sides.”

Floyd Philips looks like he’s going to disagree.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, but I’m not looking directly at him.

Mathew Natori is the key to all of this, and I can see in his eyes that he’s considering it. When he finally gives me a nod, I lower my gun and draw myself up to my full height. One by one, his men retreat into separate cars and drive off into the night. When only Mathew and Floyd are left, I holster the gun and approach them.

Their team of guards form a circle around me.

With one look, they fall back, shoulders squared in anticipation. I punch Floyd squarely in the face, the sickening crush taking some of the edge off. Little droplets of blood stain the ground beneath his feet and splatter on my shirt. Mathew hesitates with one foot in his direction, but I shoot him a long and measured look.

Floyd crumples to his feet, still cradling his bloody nose between his hands. “I’ll get you for this.”

I snort. “You’re not man enough to come at me yourself.”

As I walk away, I ball my hands into fists at my side, half-expecting their men to descend upon us. Although there are no bodies to bury tonight, I hold my breath until I reach Ernesto’s SUV. Once I get into the back, I shove one hand into my pocket and twist against the leather seats. Even in the darkness, I can make out Floyd’s vague silhouette as he gestures angrily.

Mathew has the good grace to look angry and ashamed.

In silence, Tristan gets into the front while Paul and Lorenzo slide into the row of seats behind me. When Ernesto starts the car and drives past them, I hold myself still. I release a deep breath once they’ve turned into a speck in the distance. After we round the corner, I pour myself a drink and down it all in one gulp.

I take out my phone and stare at another one of Isabella’s messages. My stomach dips and tightens as I listen to the crack and yearning in her voice.

Outside, the world blurs past, a flurry of shapes and colors until we reach the other side of the city and pull up outside the mayor’s office, nestled in the heart of the city. Lorenzo and Paul take down the men standing guard outside the back door without too much fuss and drag their unconscious bodies out to the abandoned alley.

In the elevator, I offer the camera a smirk.

Once the doors ping open, more men are waiting for us, so I lunge at the nearest one and take his weapon out of his hand. Using my leg, I knee him in the stomach. Then I use his gun and hit him on the back of the head. Next to me, Paul, Lorenzo, and Tristan have done the same, with the three of them pausing to tie the men up.

Mayor Hughes is standing behind the desk in his office, hair in tufts on top of his head, his tie askew around his neck, and a questionable stain on the side of his pants. He pushes himself off the desk when he sees me, and his eyes tighten around the edges.

“We had an agreement, Blackthorne. You can’t keep barging in here.”

I peel off my jacket and hand it to Lorenzo. “After the warm welcome I received? I might make it a point to pass by every day.”

And if I have the time, I will, just to watch the mayor squirm. I have no idea why I ever thought he was a more worthy foe than Frances. Both of them are cut from the same cowardly and shitty piece of cloth.

Hughes stops a few feet away and folds his arms over his chest. “What do you want? We already have an agreement.”

I motion to Paul, who aims his gun at the cameras all over the office, knocking them out one by one. “I have a fucking problem, Hughes. Do you know what my problem is? I’m starting to think this city has too many rats that work for me. So, what better way to start cleaning up than at the top?”

Hughes unfolds his arms and runs a hand over his face. “Unless I give you something valuable in return.”

I offer Hughes a slow clap. “Congratulations. You’re not the dumb fuck I thought you were. You’re already doing better than Frances. Then again, he’s dead, so it’s not a hard standard to surpass.”

Hughes loses some of the color in his face. “Your doing, I presume?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t say that since Frances had it coming. He made a lot of enemies when he was trying to kill his way to the top.”

Hughes stares at me for a long minute. “You want to know who is backing the Natoris and Philipses.”

I pause to roll up the sleeves of one shirt and then the other. “And who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

Hughes shifts from one foot to the other, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. “I know who the new backer is, but word on the street is he isn’t a new player.”

“Well, look at that. Mayor fucking Hughes isn’t so worthless after all.”

Hughes shoves a hand into his pocket and attempts to stand up straighter. “He’s been watching you for a while, so when he saw an opening, he took it. In a way, you created this problem for yourself by removing me from the equation.”

Goddamn it, Hughes is right. As much as I hate the slimy son of a bitch, at least I know how to handle him. He is the devil I know, and he’s got to be better than whoever is lurking out there, watching and waiting for the time to strike.

For every cockroach I snuff out, ten more rise up to take his place.

Fucking pests, all of them.

I take my gun out of the waistband of my pants, aim it at the mayor’s feet, and fire. His eyes immediately widen as he lets out a startled scream. Then he crumbles into a heap on the floor and brings his legs to his chest. I advance on him, pull him up to his feet, and shove him into the nearest chair.

His face is growing more and more ashen.

I press the gun to one leg. “I did warn you about what would happen if I had to come back here, didn’t I? So, which leg is it going to be?”

Hughes sputters, a sickly sheen of sweat erupting on his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s an old saying about how lies can’t survive or flourish for long because they have no legs to stand on,” I explain with a pleasant smile. “Since you lie for a living, this means you don’t need both legs, so either you choose, or I’ll choose for you.”

Hughes pales further. “You can’t be serious! I told you everything I know.”

“Not good enough.” I press my face to his and watch as horror and fear play out across his features. “Since you were able to find out this information, this means you can find out more. You can tell me exactly who this new backer is.”

Hughes makes a low sound in the back of his throat.

I stand up and roll my shoulders. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. But my men aren’t as forgiving or as patient. It’s been a long night for them.”

Lorenzo gives him a menacing look, and a tremor moves through Hughes.

I scratch the back of my neck and yawn. “So, why don’t I leave you all to come to an agreement? I don’t need to be here for this.”

Especially not when I’m trying to keep my monster in check. Even keeping him on a tight leash is hard, and it’s taking everything in me not to kill Hughes right then and there.

Considering everything he’s done, I know he deserves it. But I keep seeing Isabella’s face in my mind, and I keep hearing her voice in my head.

If I’m going to do better, it needs to start now.

Thankfully, none of my men are hindered by the same obstacles. Paul looks almost impatient when he takes off his jacket and cracks his knuckles. Hughes tries to rise to his feet, but Lorenzo pushes him back into the chair and bares his teeth at him.

The smell of sweat and urine fills the room. In the distance, there is a loud siren piercing through the air.

“It’s a new record,” I say loudly. “How long do you think it’ll take them to take care of you and hide the body before the cops get here? I don’t like your odds, Hughes.”

Lorenzo lifts Hughes up by the scruff of his neck. “How attached are you to your fingers?”

Hughes sputters and kicks his legs out, his whimpers falling on deaf ears. When I step out into the hallway, Tristan hurries out after me. All the cluttered desks are empty, and the large glass windows off a view of clear night skies and a half-shaped moon.

“Rough him up a little,” I say tersely. “But make sure there’s no footage of anything, and make sure he knows that we’ll be back to collect.”

Tristan nods. “Anything else?”

“Make it hurt,” I add, with a quick look in Tristan’s direction. “I might have to behave, but you don’t.”

Tristan and I exchange grim looks.

Ernesto falls into step beside me we make a beeline for the elevator. Once the doors ping shut, I take my phone out of my pocket and type a quick message. Then the doors slide open, and Ernesto and I step out a side door, past a spacious lobby with hardwood floors and a glittering chandelier.

In the car, I lean back against the leather seats and set the gun down next to me.

Ernesto grips the steering wheel with both hands and keeps sneaking glances at me in the rearview mirror. I throw my jacket next to me, unfasten a few buttons on my shirt, and lean forward. After pouring myself a drink, I raise it in the air and hold Ernesto’s gaze.

He relaxes and gives me the barest hint of a smile. “It’s about damn time, Carter.”