· · ·
The final two hours of the punishment crept by at a snail’s pace, and Carter almost knocked the guard off his feet when he finally opened the cell. He stretched his arms back, cracked his neck, and hurried toward the yard.
“Yo, Carter!”
Riley Moore’s thundering voice traveled across the basketball court.
Carter smiled. “Moore,” he replied, strolling toward the giant man.
“Where ya been?” Moore asked with a slap against Carter’s shoulder. “I’ve missed your punk-ass face.”
“Give me a smoke and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Riley pulled a cigarette from his pocket and flicked Carter a match. They made their way to a small seating area at the back of the court.
“Move!” Riley barked.
Carter snorted when the two newbies who’d been sitting in their spot scattered like leaves. He sat down, closing his eyes to the sun beating down on him, letting the smoke whisper from between his lips.
“So what gives? You been somewhere jerking off since yesterday?” Riley laughed and lit a cigarette.
“If only,” Carter replied, watching the basketball game across the yard. “No, it was Ward.”
“No shit,” Riley murmured with a shake of his head.
“I had a slight disagreement with one of the tutors and he put me on twenty-four-hour punishment.”
“It’s on, man.” Riley bumped Carter’s fist. They’d known each other many years, both inside and outside Kill. If Carter needed him, he’d be there.
They both turned when they heard a loud bout of whistles and jeers from courtside.
Riley snorted. “Talking of tutors,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.
Carter followed his stare through the fencing to see a redheaded woman with the sexiest curve to her ass he’d ever seen. Wrapped deliciously in a black knee-length skirt, she crossed the parking lot toward a sweet Lexus sport coupe. Her awesome legs disappeared into black heels that, even from Carter’s viewpoint, were hard-on-inducing.
“Who the hell is that?” he asked, trying to see past the other inmates who were milling at the fence like kids at a damned zoo.
“That’s Miss Lane,” Riley answered, leaning back on his elbows. “My lit tutor. She’s cool, actually.”
Carter snorted. “Well, at least that’s a plus.” He snuffed out his cigarette on the bench.
“What?” Riley frowned, confused.
Carter waved his hand toward where the car had disappeared. “The tutor will be one good thing about doing lit.”
Riley chuckled. “You’re doing lit, too?”
“Yeah,” Carter answered with a roll of his eyes. “Jack wants me to prove to the powers that be I can ‘improve’ myself inside. Some shit about how it could help toward an early parole. I’m not holding my breath.”
“Sounds like a crock to me.”
“Agreed,” Carter replied, leaning back and lifting his face to the blazing sun.
4
Kat dropped her bag by the front door before walking over to play the answering machine, and immediately heard her mother’s voice, urgent and clipped.
“I’m assuming you’re still alive and well, even though I haven’t heard a peep from you since Saturday. I hope you haven’t forgotten that you’re coming to the house this evening for dinner. If you aren’t here by seven, I’ll be sending Harrison out to make sure you’re all right. Bye.”
Kat sighed and pressed call back on her phone, leaving it on speaker. She walked over to her tropical fish tank and sprinkled food across the smooth water, smiling when they came to the surface and puckered and kissed at the flakes.
“Katherine?” Her mother’s anxious voice filled the living room.
“Yes, Mom, it’s me. I’m alive, I’m safe, and I’ll be at the house at seven, so cancel the search party.”
Kat could have done without having to have dinner with her mother after the day she’d had. She’d woken late that morning after, once again, being awake half the night having the same vivid dream repeatedly. She’d tried to go another night without her pills and had done nothing but regret it as soon as her head hit the pillow.
It was a new dream this time. There were no faceless men or wet sand, but her father was still there. He kept whispering something to her and, try as she might, she couldn’t get near enough to hear him. That was when the hooded stranger came and pulled her back from him.
Just as he had done all those years before.
He was still a stranger to her—both in and out of her dreams—after apparently disappearing without a trace from the doorway of the building in which he had held her as she cried for her father. She truly believed the police and her mother thought she was insane when she tried to describe what had happened: that a hooded unknown had pulled her from seeing her father beaten to death on a cold, wet night in the Bronx.
All she knew was that he was definitely male and he couldn’t have been much older than she was. But he was never found. Regardless, he was still there in her subconscious, desperately dragging her away from her father.
An hour and a half later, tired and frustrated, Kat was sitting at her mother’s dining table, fighting to clear the horrendous tension that shrouded the room. It was a losing battle; it had been that way ever since Kat had applied for her job at Kill. Nevertheless, trying her hardest not to be discouraged by her mother’s blatant apathy, Kat enthused to her mother and her mother’s partner of ten years, Harrison, about how well her students were doing, how hard they were working, and how focused they’d become. Kat described what she felt when her student, Sam, had written prose so poetic it had damned near brought her to tears of pride. She spoke about the surge of adrenaline that only a teacher knows when their students show understanding of a subject, but her mother didn’t even try to hide her scoff.
Her mother, as much as Kat loved her and tried to understand her point of view, was still extremely prejudiced about criminals and what should be done about them. As much as Kat had tried her best to quash her mother’s fears, her pleading was ignored. The thought of Kat being near them, let alone teaching them, made Eva sick to her stomach.
The arguments that had taken place had been epic in their ferocity. Kat had tried to reason with her mother that, as hard as it was to understand, they weren’t the same men who’d killed the man they both adored. After her therapy sessions, where she had discussed the same fears, it had surprised Kat how easy the words came off her tongue.
Nevertheless, despite Kat’s efforts, the dinner was, as always, overwrought and awkward. Kat left early, making excuses about grading her students’ work.
Once through her apartment door, she kicked off her shoes and wandered over to the answering machine, which was flashing, and pressed play. She grabbed a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured it into one of her larger glasses. After dinner with her mother, Kat was definitely ready for a drink.
“Miss Lane, it’s Anthony Ward. I wanted to give you a heads-up that a new inmate will be joining your class tomorrow. He’s . . . difficult, but I’m sure you’ll be just fine. I’ll explain in the morning. Have a good evening.”
Kat stared at the machine. A new inmate? Difficult?
“Cheers, Mr. Ward,” she muttered, sipping her drink. She sat cross-legged on her sofa, glass of wine still firmly in hand, as a new message began.
“Hey, Lane!” Beth’s voice was excited. “It’s me! So. Reminder. It’s nearly my birthday, which means wine and food, and did I mention wine? Huh. I’ll text you the details. Call me.”
Kat laughed into her glass.
With the uncomfortable dinner at her mother’s house still fresh in her mind, Kat was certain that Beth’s birthday party was just what she needed.
· · ·
“Good morning, everyone.” Kat smiled while her students took their seats.
“Morning, Miss L,” Riley answered with a huge yawn. “And may I say how nice you look today?”
“You may,” she answered with a playful warning look.
“You look nice,” he responded, giving her a wide closed-lip smile.
“Thank you, Riley,” she replied, unable to hide her own grin.
She handed out their previous day’s work, entitled “My Favorite Places,” and gave them a couple of minutes to read her comments.
“What does ‘not entirely appropriate’ mean?” Corey asked from his seat at the back of the class.
Kat approached him. “It means, Corey, I don’t really want to read about every one of your conquests or the marks you gave them out of ten, including”—she whipped the paper from his desk to find the offending sentence—“her mouth was like a vacuum.”
At this, Corey barked a huge laugh that echoed around the room, his afro hair bouncing as he did. Everyone else sat in unimpressed silence. “Oh, come on,” Corey insisted, waving his sheet of work. “That shit’s funny!”
“You’re a prick,” Jason muttered from his seat, dissolving Corey’s smile instantly.
“Jason,” Kat warned, unease prickling her skin.
Corey retorted with a string of colorful language before he kicked the back of Jason’s chair. Hard. “Fucking asshole.”
“Hey,” Kat said, alarm rising inside her. “Not now, guys. Let’s just keep calm and—”
“The hell?” Jason snapped back, ignoring her. He began to stand from his seat and turned to Corey, his height and wide shoulders dwarfing Kat. “You gonna say that to my face, you ugly fuck?”
“Hey,” Kat repeated louder, maneuvering herself between them.
Corey stood, tall and lean, his ebony skin gleaming under the harsh lights of the classroom. “I’ll kick your ass, shithead. Just name the day.”
“Guys, please—”
“I’d like to see it, you jumped-up little bastard.” Jason gave a come-closer gesture with his hand.
Panic began to engulf Kat’s throat. She held an open palm toward each of the men as they threw threats and words, conjuring terrified sweat from her forehead. If either of them threw a punch, she would be right in the middle of it. She froze, dread solidifying her joints. Officer Morgan and Riley tried to get in between them, trying to protect her. She could hear Rachel calling for her to move back.
But she couldn’t.
The fear pounded her head. She tried to remain calm, remembering the anxiety breathing exercises her therapist had given her, but her heart slammed against her ribs, taunting her. Kat clenched her eyes shut against the sixteen-year-old memories that pushed and clawed through the bars of the cage where she kept them locked in her mind. They were desperate to see her fail and crumble.
Breathing deeply, Kat grappled for the reins, trying frantically to gain control. She knew she couldn’t allow her students to behave like that. It was her classroom, her time, her job, her promise.
She opened her eyes, clenched her fists, and filled her lungs. “HEY!”
Rendered speechless, everyone stared at Kat as her yell ricocheted around them. Riley, who was standing at her side, trying his best to shield her from whatever shit was about to fly, blinked in disbelief. The awed silence lasted all of thirty seconds before the door flew open, and Ward stormed in with a face like thunder.
“What the hell is going on here?” he roared.
The group surrounding Kat slowly began to disperse when two officers appeared in the doorway. Kat took another shaky breath and rubbed her drenched palms down her trousers. She cleared her throat and turned to her boss.
“Nothing to worry about, Mr. Ward. Just a differing of opinion. As you can see, they’re all fine now. Aren’t you, Corey?” She leveled a look at him that demanded obedience.
He nodded sharply, still glaring at the back of Jason’s head.
“It didn’t sound like nothing.” Ward eyed the room, throwing a pointed stare at each inmate until he was seemingly satisfied that they were under control. “I’d like to bring in your new student.” He turned his head toward the door. “Carter?”
· · ·
Carter had been standing in the corridor with Officer West, grinning and listening to Ward try to assert what piss-ass authority he thought he had. He pushed from his place against the wall and wandered into the room, dragging his feet with every step.
The first thing he noticed was Riley across the room, acknowledging him with a nod and a smirk. He then glanced casually at the others in the class, trying to discern where he came in the pecking order. He was almost always at the top, but he made it a point to check first.
In this case, Riley dominated. Just.
He sneered when he took in the other faces. Jason could be cocky, but he knew his place and Sam was as quiet as a mouse. No problems there. Corey Reed, however, was a pain in the ass. Carter glared and smiled when he slumped down into his seat. An annoyed feminine cough pulled him from his visual tormenting of the little bastard.
He turned toward the origin of the noise, finding the delectable Miss Lane, arms crossed over her ample chest, eyeing him in a way that made his hackles rise. She, like every other person not in coveralls, thought she was better than he was. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know it. She may have hidden it well behind her sexy blouse and heels, but she was just like them. They were all the fucking same.
He shifted his weight casually onto his right foot and stared right back at her.
“Carter, this is Miss Lane. Miss Lane, this is Wes Carter,” Ward explained.
“Just Carter,” he spat, keeping his glare firmly on his new tutor. Ward knew better than to use his first name, for Christ’s sake.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Carter,” Miss Lane offered.
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
“You can take a seat.” She gestured to a desk and chair behind him.
Carter ignored her, surveying his surroundings.
“Take a seat, Carter,” she ordered.
His stare snapped to her. Her mouth was pressed into a hard line, almost daring him to defy her. Game on. His eyes wandered lazily down her body. Hot. Curvy in all the right places, with an ass that would look spectacular with his hands all over it. He smirked at that particular image.
Carter was tall, at least six-two, and broad-chested. He towered a good nine inches over her and carried at least seventy pounds more than was on her feminine frame, yet the feisty redhead stood firm, not moving an inch, meeting him glower to glare. If her stick-up-the-ass, bitchy attitude hadn’t riled him so much, he might have stopped to consider how turned on he was by it.
Damn.
“Here, Carter.” It was Rachel’s voice, which broke the strange electric mood enveloping the room. She motioned to the seat closest to him.
Carter, as loath as he was to break his gaze with his tutor, took a deep breath, and moved toward the seat. The air shuddered out of him when his blue irises dropped from Miss Lane’s wide green ones, which flickered with fire.
“Well,” Ward murmured, “any problems . . . you know where I am.”
He gave a tight-lipped smile and, after they uncuffed Carter, left the room with the two officers.
· · ·
Kat was unable to tear her eyes from the new addition to her class. He was fine to look at with his buzz cut; wide, strong shoulders; two days’ worth of stubble; and long legs that stuck out from underneath the desk, but his attitude made him sharp around the edges. There was a dangerous aura around him that screamed No entry. She noted a lick of black ink poking out from the collar of his coveralls, curving up his neck.
How very badass.
She’d seen the way he’d taken in the other students in her class—conceited and arrogant—and she didn’t like it. He was obviously an egotistical jerk who saw himself as above everyone in her class, including her, which irritated her beyond distraction. Despite his ability to shut everyone up with his dark scowl and brooding hostility, it was her classroom. Not his.
Kat’s aggression was s
urprising and uncharacteristic, but the adrenaline still pumped through her body after the almost-fight, and the last thing she needed was a cocky jerk like Carter adding to it.
Kat took a second to compose herself and then started the activity, explaining it quickly and clearly, and within five minutes, they were on task. It appeared the altercation had been forgotten, or, knowing Jason, been left for another time.
She walked with purpose toward Carter’s desk and placed an A4 book in front of him. He never moved to acknowledge her request for him to place his name on the front of it.
“Carter,” she said again, annoyance creeping up her spine. “Could you please write your name on the front of this booklet?” She noticed the corners of his mouth twitch. “Is something funny?”
His eyes met hers, crystal blue, fiery, and furious, but he never said a word.
She pulled a pen from her pocket. “Is this what you need?”
She could have sworn his eyes softened, but it was a change so minute and fleeting, she shook the thought away. He raised his hand and took the pen from her, allowing the tip of his finger to catch the side of her knuckle. The contact was like bare skin to a naked flame. The burning jolt of heat shot from the tip of her finger deep into the pit of her stomach.
Bewildered, Kat watched Carter write his name across the top of the booklet, before throwing the pen down and sighing sarcastically. He sat back in his seat, looking like he owned the place. Kat had no doubt in her mind he thought exactly that.
“I know you’re behind, having just joined us today, but I’m sure you’ll catch up.”
His face showed no emotion or thought, so she continued regardless, explaining the word association task the class had done twenty-four hours before in preparation for their creative writing assessment. “So, you can start with that,” she said. “Write a word that means something to you and then all the words associated with that.”
Still nothing.
She bit her tongue and placed her hands on her hips. “Once you do that, you can write about why that word is important to you.”
A Pound of Flesh Page 3