Chapter Sixty
Isabella
My knees push against the small curb that keeps me from completely being shoved forward to my death. It’s not enough to keep me safe, though, the man’s grasp tightening, daring to bend me forward, his fingernails drawing blood by the time I hear movement from Carter.
“Don’t drop your gun,” I plead, pleading in assumption, unsure what he’s doing or what he is going to do to get us out of this… if he even can. “Carter, please, don’t—”
“Dove, let me handle this. Just relax,” he calls, his voice solid and unemotional.
I would shudder to release the chill that crawls down my back from the deep, unnerving tone of his voice, but I fear any movement will send me soaring to the concrete below. I instead cling to the man’s wrist behind my neck, making sure that if I am pushed, I can maybe take him down with me.
“Please,” I whimper, my cheeks finally feeling the sting of tears. “Don’t kill me.”
“We won’t, princess,” the man breathes in an exhale that I think even Carter can hear. “Jacob Lacey has other plans for you.”
He yanks me away from the ledge at last, and I gasp aloud, my lungs raw and sore from holding my breath for so long. I spot Carter lying on the ground, his gun missing, while he keeps his hands empty and outstretched in front of his shoulders.
It’s a wild thing to see Carter Blackthorne surrender.
The Lacey henchman drags me toward the stairwell while the other two approach my lover. I thrash in his grasp, his nails scratching my neck and back with a hot, sharp sting. My legs are numb from my close brush with death, and I hit the ground, Carter flinching so fast that I almost miss it.
He whips a pistol out of the rim of his blazer jacket, pointing it toward the two men closest to him first. Two shots, two bodies hit the ground, and he points the barrel of the gun toward me next, firing his final shot into the man behind me.
The last Lacey alive falls forward, clutching his chest while crimson stains his shirt. I have to kick out of the way of his body to not be crushed under his dead weight.
Warm hands pull at my shoulders, and I scream, Carter’s hand brushing my cheek and nudging me to meet his face. He stands behind me, his eyes soft and his expression smooth. How he is able to stay so calm, no matter the amount of doom that surrounded us moments ago, will never make sense to me.
I scream my cries into his chest, trembling hard into his arms. “Fuck! Carter, he… he almost—”
He silences me with his tongue, letting it graze the inside of my cheek. I choke on the lack of air, having to steal some of his between my guttural moans. When he does pull back, he grins wickedly, as if the thrill of almost being shot and killed, or thrown off a building, is something that he does on a daily basis.
“You did good,” he hums. “Ducking out of the way so I could get a clear shot. Very wise.”
My wide, unblinking eyes take in the seriousness of his words. “I didn’t know you were going to do that,” I whisper in a petrified exhale. “I didn’t even know you had another gun.”
“Of course I do, dove,” he mumbles, his brows pinched. “You think I’ve been able to live as long as I have with just one gun? I’ve got three or four on me at all times.”
Although surrounded by bodies and still atop a rooftop where someone in the buildings nearby may have heard those gunshots, I can’t help but grin sheepishly.
“Not all the time…”
He bites on his lower lip, and I’m jealous of it already. “Very clever, Bella. But we need to leave. Cops will be here soon.”
My mind resurfaces to the reality of this horror show. “Tristan was on the sidewalk,” I gust. “What if they killed him?”
Carter doesn’t seem concerned over that prospect, holding his pistol past my shoulder while steps ring out in the stairwell. He narrows his glare and continues aiming, waiting to fire at the first sign of another Lacey holding a death wish.
Instead, it’s Ernesto—his most meek relative, who serves as his chauffeur on their good days together.
“Well, thanks for joining us,” Carter snarls, tucking his pistol behind his waistband. “I could have used you about twenty minutes ago.”
Ernesto shrugs, pointing to the hoard of Italian men in black suits coming out of the stairwell behind him. “Sorry, boss. Had to bring backup.”
“What’s Tristan’s status?”
Ernesto runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Not good. Pistol whipped for sure, but not shot.”
Carter pulls me into his side, pushing us through the crowd that has formed on the roof. “Clean up this mess, make it disappear. Someone takes Tristan to Anita’s. Ernesto, bring at least two guys with us to stay at the penthouse. We’re all bunkering down tonight. The war isn’t over.”
“Yes, sir,” the men all rattle off in different variations.
I shield my face from their sight, feeling like I’m being watched while Carter presses his lips into my temple. His arms are stiff around my hips, keeping me up right down the stairs, leading us down to the sidewalk below. Tristan’s car is gone, and so is his unconscious body, but the blood stains are ingrained into the concrete still.
Carter practically picks me up off the ground and places me in Ernesto’s backseat. He slides in beside me, another brute climbing in to sit beside him. The other bodyguard-looking man takes the passenger seat while Ernesto takes his rightful place behind the wheel.
I can’t help but look at my building, feeling a pang of guilt over how everything ended. My memories there weren’t spectacular or life-altering, but it’s the first place I lived after moving away from home and living in my dorm.
Carter tugs me into his lap, inching himself against the window and then settling me in the seat in the middle. I stare at the man beside me, his body built like a tank with the outline of pistols lining his waistline.
I can’t imagine what that fight would have looked like upstairs with the amount of Blackthorne loyalists that ended up coming too late. It would have ended sooner or pissed off the guy gripping my neck, thus sending me to an untimely splatter on the sidewalk.
No matter the possibilities that didn’t happen, I’m happy they’re all here now.
“Let me look at the scratches,” Carter demands, pulling the back of my shirt down and bringing the warm blood to the cool air inside the car. He swipes a finger across the marks, and I wince. “They’re deep, but I can get some bandages on it to keep it clean,” he hums, releasing my shirt. “Come here, dove.”
Before I can even turn around and face him, he slides me backward by his grasp on my hips, his thumbs purposefully deep against my ass before they slide up, taunting at lifting my shirt. I’m forced to lay back, my head in the junction of his neck and shoulder. I fit here perfectly, too perfect to be lying anywhere else.
“Ernesto, what’s the report on everyone?”
The dedicated driver jumps the curb when pushing past traffic, cutting it short before forming his own turn lane at the light, hijacking the bike lane to do so. I bite back a chuckle at their blatant call to attention but ignore it, knowing that no matter if we hide in the veins of the downtown streets or go to my old apartment, Lacey is going to find us eventually.
Might as well get to the penthouse faster.
“Mr. Julis is well protected,” Ernesto recounts, his eyes briefly shifting to the rearview mirror to meet my gaze for a moment. “We have four guys on him around the clock. Samantha Roberts is at Anita’s house. We have it set up as a home base right now. Full lockdown mode. The guys tailing the mayor lost him about an hour ago, but he has to return to his office in the evening, so they’re posted there waiting.”
Carter grumbles at the last bit of information. “I don’t need that prick jumping ship because things are getting messy,” he says through gritted teeth. “What about Paul?”
My breath hitches. “He’s alive?”
Ernesto nods. “Yeah, he survived the gunshot, but it wasn’t pretty. He’s got limited movement. He was flown upstate to have surgery, so Luce went with him. The siblings are safe out there—away from this firefight.”
“Don’t put it past Jacob,” Carter snaps. “When we get to the penthouse, call our connections up North. The Aachen family, I believe.”
I tip my head in interest. “That’s German, isn’t it?”
“Yes, they are our German allies,” Carter replies, planting a kiss on the back of my head, lining them down the side of my neck. I shiver in response; he laughs. “They help with the trade we do internationally. They’re like a proctor, but we’re going to test their true dedication to our agreement. They will protect Paul and Luce upstate.”
“I’ll give them that call,” Ernesto hums, pulling into the cover of Carter’s building.
Of course, now it may be both of ours, by what he said earlier. It’s not like I have a choice in the matter, but there’s something easy about having the decision made for me. I would have been too shy to ask of such a huge shift in both of our lives, but knowing he wanted to do it and then making sure it was executed while we were away at his childhood home made the transition more seamless.
I use the gold key in the elevator, then into his penthouse, opening it up to see a few familiar items strewn around the space. Carter makes a direct line to the kitchen, pulling out some of his tea leaves to make drinks. I turn into the bedroom he had set up for me, only to see the aesthetic of it has changed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I turn, Carter already behind me, his arms crossed over his chest. “My bedroom,” I reply with a shudder. “I need a shower and some bandages for my neck.”
“You think I moved you in here full-time so you could sleep in a bed that’s not mine?”
I give him a puzzled look, and he takes my wrist, pulling me across the living room where the other guys all settle in, flipping on the TV and glancing out the windows on the back wall. He pushes me into his room, the door slamming shut behind him while I see that his entire space has changed.
He has a blanket from my apartment thrown over the corner of his bed and a few pillows added to the mix that were also mine prior to being thrust into his penthouse permanently. I stalk into the bathroom, spying a full closet of clothes that are dazzled in glitter and luxurious fabrics. The entire closet holds only my stuff, the space as large as my last apartment.
I can’t bite away my grin as I come out, seeing Carter propped up on the edge of his bed, watching my expression very closely.
“I love it,” I hum.
“The entire time we’ve been together, our first time sleeping in the same bed was at my old house. I’ve never allowed anyone to sleep next to me before, but it just felt too right to ever go back sleeping alone, so I made sure it was set up by the time we would return.”
I hover in front of him, wanting to sit on his lap and kiss him forever, but I know I can’t do that, or it would lead to something more salacious than we both need right now. Carter wouldn’t mind it, but he needs a bit of rest first, his mind and body working overtime today to keep me alive.
He’s gotten really good at that, too.
“Go shower,” he breathes in exhale, standing and tucking my frayed hair back behind my ear. “Then put on something nice for me, dove. I’m going to go entertain my family and have some tea. I want you ready for me in those sheets when I get back in here.
I tense as he kisses my forehead, moving toward the door. “How long is that going to be?”
He shrugs with his back still toward me. “You’ll just have to find out, but trust me, Bella. You don’t want to be late.”
I gulp down a swallow and hurry to the bathroom at the mention of his casual threat. Punishment isn’t ideal for this moment, but it does bring a looming warmth to my core. I just hope my new closet has something worthy of his appreciation for such an event.