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

Chapter Twenty-Six

Carter

On his way past, Daniel pauses to step to the side. A long line of men steps past him and into the spacious conference room, where several Natori men are already gathered. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a flash of movement, and I see Floyd Philips and his men come in.

We exchange a quick and terse look on his way past. I don’t breathe until Daniel places a hand on my arm and pulls me to a quiet corner.

More and more people are pouring into the airy conference room, with its big bay windows and a view of the city’s skyline. Far below, there are rows of men from all four families gathered, poised and ready to fight if need be.

But I doubt that anyone wants things to go that far.

This war has gone on for long enough, and when it comes to the Natoris and Philipses, I know they’re eager for the truce to go through.

Remy Donahue, on the other hand, is another matter.

He’s the wild card I can’t quite pin down, and not even a lengthy look at him as he walked in half an hour ago has given me anything to work with. He has the same sharp jaw and almond-shaped eyes as the rest of the Donahues, but that’s where the similarities end. Where they are all poised and refined, Remy is bulky and short with a bald head and a sneer etched onto his face.

His icy blue eyes haven’t stopped regarding the men in attendance since he walked in. And I’m beginning to wonder if we’re going to have a problem on our hands.

Was I too hasty in agreeing to a sit-down? Is Remy going to blow the whole truce to smithereens, taking down as many men as he can from all sides?

So far, he doesn’t seem willing to talk to anyone else, in spite of the fact that I know he’s allied himself with Mathew Natori and Floyd Philips.

The two men at least have the decency to pretend around me, but I don’t miss the worried glances they exchange, and I don’t miss how Remy moves his chair further away from them, taking up an entire side of the table. Three of Remy’s men, all sporting identical buzz cuts and cruel sneers, take their seats on either side of him.

Remy links his fingers together and casts another glance around the room. When his eyes land on me, I give him a bored look. His eyes tighten, and his expression turns thunderous.

A part of me wonders if he’s going to launch himself across the table and put my head through the wall.

I’m almost eager for him to, just to give me an excuse to crush him once and for all.

The Donahues are a lying, manipulative, and weaselly little bunch who have been allowed to exist for too long. With Remy out of the picture, I’m hoping I won’t have to deal with them ever again. However, even I know that’s wishful thinking.

Somewhere out there, there might be another Donahue or Lacey lying in wait. One with far more brains and bigger pockets than Remy.

“You need to stop looking like you want to put a knife in his stomach,” Daniel murmurs near my ear. “We’re here to negotiate a new truce and not spill more blood.”

I curl my hands into fists at my side. “He took down an important part of the docks just to spite me. And he allied himself with the Natoris and Philipses for the same exact reason. He’s nothing but a fucking pest.”

“A pest who has the support and ear of both of your enemies,” Daniel reminds me in an equally soft voice. “Don’t forget that if you target him, you might risk bringing negotiations to a close.”

I twist to face Daniel and frown. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” Daniel replies without looking at me. “You asked me to be here, Carter, and I’m here. If you didn’t want my advice, you shouldn’t have asked me to come.”

I dig my nails into my palms. “What if I just asked you to come because I needed your men?”

Daniel turns so he’s facing me directly, his expression still calm and unaffected. “You would’ve told me. You aren’t known for mincing your words, Carter. Regardless of our differences, you and I are family.”

And he’s the only one powerful and influential enough to back me up. Whether or not I trust his intentions doesn’t matter. It can’t. Not in this nest of vipers who would happily descend upon me if given half the chance.

Without Daniel, I know my chances aren’t as good.

Reluctantly, I uncurl my hands and exhale. “Fine. I’ll do the talking, though. Don’t say a word. If they sense we’re not on the same page, none of us are going to make it out of here alive.”

Daniel gives me a curt nod. “It’s not my first truce negotiation, Carter.”

I give him another look and say nothing.

Ernesto and Tristan are standing on either side of the door, their faces giving nothing away. In the back of the room, Paul and Lorenzo are stationed. Once the last of the men trickle in, the double doors are left open, and a row of muscled men block the exit.

Daniel and I walk to the head of the table.

He sits down first, and I scan the room, my mind racing to come up with worst-case scenarios. Although we’re all fairly evenly matched, I know that Daniel has more men waiting in the wings. As per our agreement, we’re each allowed ten men to accommodate the size of the building on the outskirts of the city.

Choosing a location in a quieter neighborhood isn’t what’s rubbing me the wrong way. It’s the fact that the entire room feels like a ticking time bomb. One wrong word and it’s all going to go up in flames, and I have no idea who’s going to be holding the match.

Fucking hell.

I’m still not sure how Daniel convinced me to agree to this goddamn sit-down in the first place.

Unfortunately, arriving to find a fire engulfing a section of the docks, with a few Donahue men crawling everywhere I looked, hadn’t left me in the right frame of mind. Everywhere I’d looked, I hadn’t been able to see anything other than chaos and destruction, and it was Tristan who’d sprung into action.

Between him, Ernesto, Paul, and Lorenzo, they managed to get the fire under control while I scrambled after Donahue, a heavy feeling in the center of my stomach.

Seeing the kind of damage my enemies were capable of is nothing new. Knowing how far they’re willing to go to get their point across is what’s unnerving.

I know what the Natoris and Philipses want, and I’m willing to give them scattered pieces of the city to shut them up, but it’s Remy that I worry about. Remy fucking Donahue is willing to burn down his own house just to take me with him. And there’s nothing more dangerous than a man who has nothing to lose.

And if the past few days have taught me anything, it’s that Remy is a man who believes he has nothing to lose. Sent to a remote corner of the country with a small legion of men at his behest, Remy isn’t the threat he thinks he is. However, with the support of the Natoris and Philipses fueling his rage, he’s a stray bullet.

One I want to avoid at all costs.

Once the room quiets down, I push away all thoughts of the man sitting to my left and sit up straighter. “Let’s get right down to business, shall we?”

Mathew Natori clears his throat. “We’re here to reaffirm our dedication to the truce.”

Floyd Philips lifts his chin up. “So are we.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise? Last I heard the two of you were in league with Donahue.”

Remy Donahue lets out a low, humorless laugh. “That was until I realized what spineless and pathetic cowards they are. They aren’t dreaming big enough.”

I turn and face Remy directly, taking in the sharp lines of his face and the jagged scar running alongside his right eye. “I’m sure I’m going to regret asking.”

Remy slams his fists on the table hard enough to make it rattle. “I’m not going to stop until I’ve avenged my cousin.”

“Your cousin was stupid enough to go after Carter and his fiancée,” Mathew points out with a roll of his eyes. “Why is that any of our concern?”

“Because you didn’t see what he did to him,” Remy snaps, with an angry look at everyone gathered. “Rich had to hide for weeks to avoid the target on his back. A target Carter put there.”

A few uneasy looks are shared around the table.

“He knew what would happen if he went after me and my family,” I tell Remy with a lift of my chin. “What the fuck did he think was going to happen? He’s lucky I gave him a quick death because it’s more than what he and that bitch deserved.”

Remy pushes his chair back, and it falls with a loud thud. “You really do think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you? The great Carter Blackthorne, only you’re not really a Blackthorne, are you?”

I don’t break our gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Except I can tell by the smug smirk on his face that he knows I’ve taken the bait.

Goddamn it. How the hell did he find out?

“You see, unlike Rich, I do my research myself.” Remy fastens a few buttons on his jacket and pushes himself from the table. “I like to look into my enemies before I go after them.”

“And do you like to hide in the shadows like your cousin did? You going to use a woman to get to me? Or are you man enough to come after me yourself?”

Remy’s expression darkens. “I don’t give a fuck what kind of truce the three of you sign because I’m not going to agree to it. I’m going to keep targeting the docks and any other business you own until I get what I want.”

Slowly, I rise to my feet and ignore the pounding in my ears. “I’m not a fucking mind reader, so either you like listening to the sound of your own voice, or you like the theatrics. Either way, I don’t have time for this.”

Because it’s clear that Remy, unlike the other two families, isn’t here to negotiate in good faith. He’s here to taunt and stall and get his cheap shots in, all in an effort to make himself feel better. And I’m not interested in playing his game, not when I have a truce to sign.

“You’re not even going to ask me what I want?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. So, if you’re not here to negotiate, you can leave. I’ll deal with you later.”

Remy’s expression darkens further. “Excuse me?”

“Are you deaf or something? I said get the fuck out. This meeting is here for those who are going to take the truce seriously.”

And I don’t have time for whatever bullshit Remy is spewing. Not when I have a family to get back to.

It’s been days since Isabella and I talked about my past, days since I let Isabella catch a glimpse into the kind of life I used to lead.

Instead of running for the hills, she’s been nothing but patient, kind, and understanding.

It’s making me love and appreciate her all the more because even when I was locked in a closet as a kid and dreaming of a different kind of life myself, I couldn’t have dreamed up Isabella. Even in my wildest fantasies, she didn’t exist.

I’ve got to make damn sure I’m worthy of her and the kind of love she’s giving me.

Because I desperately want to believe that I am, that after everything I’ve done to claw my way to the top of the empire, I can still start over from scratch—with Isabella and our daughter by my side.

Remy folds his arms over his chest, his nostrils flaring. “I’m not leaving.”

I glance over at Tristan, who nods and gestures to two Blackthorne men. In silence, they both step forward and head straight for Remy. Inches away, they stop and give the Donahue rat a meaningful look. He ignores them both and keeps his gaze fixed on me.

“That’s it? You’re just going to have me kicked out by your goons? You’re not even going to try and indulge me?”

“Rich is dead. He had it coming. Unless you want to meet the same fate, I’d suggest you take a fucking hike. I’m not here for you.”

Nor do I have any interest in getting any blood on my hands after weeks of steering clear.

My first priority after making sure the truce goes into effect is making sure Remy is given whatever money or property he deems necessary to shut him up and send him back to whatever hole he crawled out of.

It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but it’s all for Isabella and the future I’m trying to build for myself. And I’ll be damned if I let a Donahue, of all people, take that away from me.

His family has already taken too much, and I’m not letting him take one more thing.

With a quick look at my men, the two of them take another step, and one of them places a hand on Remy’s arm. He shakes him off and wheels on the other to try and punch him. Everyone in attendance watches as Remy misses and has his arms pinned behind his back. Then he is slammed against the nearest wall, a low wheezing sound leaving his body.

Mathew and Floyd exchange quick looks that I can’t decipher.

I continue to stand there, leaning against the table.

Remy squirms and thrashes against his captors. “You’re a fucking coward, Blackthorne. Can’t even deal with your problems yourself, so you have to have others do it for you. How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to know that Rich was right about you?”

I gesture to my men, who stop dragging Remy away. “Unless you want to limp out of here, I’d suggest you shut the fuck up.”

Remy scowls and dusts himself off. “Or what? I’ll be subjected to the infamous Blackthorne wrath? Go ahead and make my fucking day.”

It’s exactly what he wants.

Remy isn’t just here to disrupt the truce and throw a wrench in every suggestion. He wants his pound of flesh, and I’m standing a few feet away from him.

All he needs to do is launch himself across the room, and he’ll be one step closer, but Remy and I both know that he won’t get within an inch of me. Not in this room, not in this life.

Not unless I make it happen.

Frowning, I step out from behind the desk and approach Remy. A ripple of surprise moves through the room. As soon as I’m close enough to feel the anger radiating off him and see the tight set of his shoulders, I realize two things at once.

The first is that Remy is a complication that needs to be taken care of right now. The second is that he believes he can take me on.

Without breaking our gaze, I peel off my jacket and drape it over the back of the nearest chair. Then, I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and shove both hands into my pockets. Remy’s eyes widen as his eyes dart between the jacket and my face.

“Don’t tell me you’re losing your nerve now,” I tell him, pausing to shift from one foot to the other. “This is the only chance you’re going to get.”

Remy blinks. “To do what?”

“Beat me to a bloody pulp,” I reply with a grim smile. “You want your revenge, right? Be man enough to take it, or else get the fuck out.”

Remy glances around the room, but no one wants to meet his gaze. “What kind of trick is this?”

I tap my watch. “Clock’s ticking, Remy. What’s it going to be? I’ve got more important things to do than worry about your fucking feelings.”

Or whether he’s going to keep striking. Remy is angry enough and stupid enough to keep causing problems.

Remy curls his hand into a fist and swings, missing my face by a few inches. “You moved!”

I take his hand in mine and shift closer so our faces are inches apart. “If you do this, this is all you get. No truce. No land. No money. Nothing, and if you ever go after my family or my empire again, I will not just fucking destroy you; I will end you. Got it?”

Remy squares his shoulders. “And if you fight back, the terms of the truce are going to change, and you’re going to give me a piece of the pie. I will pummel you until you can’t stand.”

I glance at the people in attendance, all of whom are braced against the table, tightly wound and ready for what comes next. I linger on Tristan, who gives me a slight, imperceptible nod. Then I look over at Ernesto and see the flicker of unease on his face before he stamps it out. Slowly, I look back at Remy and release his fist.

He staggers back and rubs his knuckles. “Do we have a deal?”

“No more killing. Do your worst.” I let my hands fall limply to my side and give him a blank look. “I won’t fight back.”

Disbelief and shock rise through the room, but I ignore them all.

When Remy takes a second swing, I hold myself completely still. His fist connects with my stomach, but I don’t flinch. His eyes are tight and focused as he takes another step forward and punches me again. This time, he lands a blow to my ribs, and it knocks some of the breath out of me. Still, I remain upright and think of Isabella and our daughter.

He punches me again, landing a heavy blow to my jaw. Pain blossoms behind my eyelids, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. I resist the urge to fight back and dig my nails into my palms.

Remy is wild-eyed and flush with color as he circles me, like he’s looking for a weakness, anything to exploit to make it feel better for him. He’s enjoying this way too much, and I can see the cold and calculating gleam in his eyes as he studies me.

I wonder if he knew it was going to come to this.

Outside of my inner circle, no one else knows about the promise I’ve made to keep my hands clean and do better. And I intend to keep it that way.

As far as everyone else is concerned, I’m allowing Remy to have his moment in the sun for the greater good in order to secure a truce with several powerful warring families. Still, as Remy throws punch after punch, sending little pinpricks of pain racing through me, I have to ask myself if it’s worth it.

Or if Remy isn’t going to stop until he’s claimed my life in exchange for his cousin’s. I have no idea how close they were or if Remy is the kind of man to exercise restraint. But I do know what it’s like to be in the throes of bloodlust, and he is on the precipice.

His blows are coming quicker now, and they’re a lot more precise, as if he’s throwing all his weight behind them. It’s taking everything in me to stand upright and ignore years of instincts and a lifetime of clawing back.

Every inch of me hurts, and I’m sure there are going to be bruises littering every inch of my skin.

Blood is dripping down my temple and the sides of my face. I dig my nails into my palms hard enough to draw blood, but it doesn’t matter because it’s distracting me from the need to retaliate, from the monster thrashing and pulling against his chains. Remy begins to sweat, and his movements are growing clumsy and awkward, but he shows no sign of stopping.

He is fueled by his rage and adrenaline. And his hate for me, a man he’s never met and will likely never cross paths with again.

Remy presses his face to mine, and I give him a grim and bloody smile. His pupils dilate, and he kicks my legs, forcing my knees to give out. I lose my balance and crumble into a heap on the floor. There’s a low ringing in my ears as I place both hands on my thighs. My muscles are aching and screaming in protest as I lift my head and look directly at Remy.

He is breathing heavily now, his knuckles bruised, and spatters of blood on his shirt. It’s obvious he’s nowhere near being satisfied, and everyone in the room is growing uncomfortable.

A part of me can’t help but wonder if they still think this is about the truce. Another part of me wonders if they can see right through me, all the way to the scared little boy who is desperate to cling to Isabella, and the kind of life he’s always dreamed for himself.

Am I really going to throw it all away? For the chance at a family and a normal life, I sure as fuck will.

Remy growls and shoves me, so I fall onto my back and find myself staring up at a gray, cracked ceiling. He places his shoe over my throat and presses. I ignore him and continue to stare at the ceiling, seeing Isabella’s face instead of the cracks. I blink and see her smiling and laughing at me.

Remy presses down harder, and spots dance in my field of vision.

“Enough,” Tristan snaps. “Your agreement wasn’t to kill him. Remove your foot or else.”

“Or else what?” Remy shoots him a withering look. “We have a deal. I get to keep beating the shit out of him until he can’t stand, and he isn’t there yet.”

Tristan takes a step in my direction. “You also agreed there would be no more killing.”

“Take another step in my direction, and you’ll find out how much of a shit I give at upholding my end of the deal.”

I should’ve known he’d find a loophole. Men like Remy usually do, but I don’t feel the rage I usually would. Or the urge to rip Remy into pieces.

Instead, I feel this strange sense of peace and calm wash over me as I cling to thoughts of Isabella and the life we can have together. Somewhere out there, she’s waiting for me, and she’s willing to build a life with me, and it’s all I need to know to lie there and wait.

It’s all been worth it to have even a fraction of what I’ve had with Isabella.

When I twist my head to look at Tristan, he is clenching and unclenching his hands. Abruptly, he stops and lowers his gaze so he’s looking directly at me. A heartbeat later, some of the color drains from his face, and he takes an uncertain step back.

Can he see the acceptance on my face? Can he tell that I’ve accepted whatever comes next because I know what I’ve done?

Isabella and our daughter will be taken care of no matter how tonight ends.

And I’ve always known everything I’ve done will catch up to me, but I never imagined it would be like this. Like most men, I thought consequences would come in my old age, with my youth and power far behind me, but it seems oddly fitting that this is how it would all unfold.

And at the hands of a Donahue seems like poetic justice. A Donahue started my downfall, so it seems fitting one would strike the final deadly blow.

I give Tristan another long and measured look before I look back up at the ceiling and release a deep breath. Then, I simply wait.