Page 90 of Bloodstained Wings

Outside Ernesto’s SUV, I pause to wipe my bloodied knuckles. “Did you get the address?”

“It’s nearby,” Ernesto replies before holding the door open. “A few more Blackthornes are going to meet us there.”

I nod. “Good.”

In the car, I unscrew the cap from a bottle of water with my teeth and spit it out. Then I guzzle down the entire bottle, but my throat still feels dry.

I need something stronger, but I also want to stay focused for what’s about to come next.

I can’t afford to give them a single inch if I want my message to be clear.

I’m halfway through my second bottle when I fish my phone out of my pocket and call Tristan. He doesn’t answer until the last ring, sounding breathless and a little irritated. “How’s it going?”

“I’ve got an address. Going to check on it now. How are things on your end?”

“Fine.”

“Tell Isabella I’ll be home soon,” I reply before switching the phone to my other ear. “In the meantime, she and Sam can order whatever they want and indulge however they want, my treat.”

Tristan pauses, and his voice sounds strange. “Okay, sure. I’ll let them know.”

I see the building in the distance, and I hang up. Ernesto screeches to a halt, but I’m out of the car before he’s come to a complete stop. I adjust the jacket around me and shove both hands into my pockets. Out of the corner of my eye, I see more and more of my men appear, emerging from the shadows and out of similar SUVs. All of them fall into step behind me as we climb the stairs.

We take down the two uniformed security guards before they realize what’s happening.

Once we’re inside the building, I take down two more men and catch one before he hits the floor. As soon as I make sure none of them have sounded the alarm, I exchange a grim look with the rest of the Blackthorne men. Blood pools underneath our feet and stains the carpets and the hardwood floors. Overhead, the chandeliers glisten and sparkle, casting tiny particles of light on the walls.

We pile into the elevator, and I tap my foot impatiently.

On the second floor, we exit and head straight for the Philipses’ men. They barely have time to take out their guns before we’ve gunned down two more. One of them dives behind a table, and I do the same, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The Blackthorne men have taken out a few more when I roll out from behind the table and reach for my knife.

It sails through the air and pierces a man’s chest.

His hands fly to the wound, and he falls backward with a thud. Behind the closed door, I hear a crash and a loud cacophony of voices. Grimly, I pull my knife from the bleeding man’s chest and give him a dismissive look. Then I wipe the blood on the carpet beneath his feet and squint at the flickering lights overhead. Suddenly, the lights flicker off, and I hear one of my men curse.

I dive behind the nearest table and flatten my back, heart hammering uneasily inside my chest.

Moments later, the door to the apartment bangs open, and more of the Philipses’ and the Natoris’ men pour out, all of them armed and thirsty for blood. I hear a clash of bodies and grunts. Then, a few more gunshots go off, and I struggle to make out anything in the darkness. Unfortunately, I can barely see more than two feet in front of me when I roll myself into a ball, away from the noise of the fighting.

When I jump to my feet, I realize, by the dim light of the moon, that I’m in the apartment.

A bullet goes sailing past my ear and nicks it.

I touch two fingers to my skin, and they come up wet and sticky. I fire a few shots into the dark and hear the familiar thumps. Half-blinded, I creep forward with my back pressed against the wall. I hear the heavy breathing seconds before I’m knocked to the ground. Spots dance in my field of vision as I jump back onto my feet and growl.

I can hear his despair, his desperation.

I close my fingers around my knife, and my hand darts out. I feel it sliding into his skin, and I grunt. Before the body hits the ground, the lights flicker back on. Little by little, my vision returns, and I recognize the men around me as my own. Still, there is a group of armed men forming a half-circle around the head of the Philips family.

His white skin glistens with sweat, and he looks a little green around the edges.

My hand itches with the urge to put a bullet between his eyes. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

“Because it’s only going to make things worse,” Floyd Philips responds before straightening his back. “You’re a smart man, Carter. I know you’re going to make the right decision.”

I point my gun at him and raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware we were on a first-name basis, Floyd. How does your wife, Janine, feel about that?”

Floyd’s eyes tighten around the edges. “The same way I imagine Isabella feels.”