Текст книги "A Pound of Flesh"
Автор книги: Sophie Jackson
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
2
The following morning, Kat got into her car outside her apartment building in SoHo. The nightmares always left her cloudy and tense, and wondering why the hell she’d taken a job teaching in a prison.
Since she’d started tutoring a little over a month ago, it had not only brought on the nightmares but was also creating a deep division between her and her mother. Their relationship had always had its ups and downs, but when Kat had called to say she was going to work at Arthur Kill, the argument that followed was the most awful they’d ever had. Eva Lane was a complex and stubborn woman, and she would never understand Kat’s need to do the job.
Kat understood her mother’s and some of her friends’ concerns. Although there were no murderers, their crimes were worrisome enough: vandalism, car theft, drug use and possession. But she knew without a doubt that this was what she wanted to do. For deep inside, a sworn promise to her father itched at her soul.
It had been there since her father had died. It was there the day she finished high school, and the day she graduated from college with an English literature degree. Teaching was what Kat had wanted to do since she was a kid, and she’d loved every second of it.
She’d been lucky enough to travel to London and China, teaching in private schools that made her fall in love with the job more and more. She made friends, experienced other cultures, and built enriching relationships that would never be broken. Nonetheless, she knew deep down that working in $50,000-a-year schools wasn’t fulfilling the promise she’d made.
Gifted, hardworking children weren’t whom she was meant to help.
“We have to give back, Katherine,” her father had said the night he died.
She’d considered taking a job at an inner-city school, but that option didn’t scratch the relentless itch, either.
Working in a prison was what quelled it.
She had to be nearer to her fears, nearer to men who thought little of breaking the law, of turning other people’s lives upside down with no consideration of the consequences. She had to be closer to understand what could make a person capable of such behavior. She hated her fear; she hated the root of it, and she knew she had to face it head-on—even though she was terrified of it.
Her therapist had been very concerned about her decision, asking constantly if Kat was happy with her choice, if she thought it was right for her and why, even using her mother’s worries to try and talk her down.
But it was Kat’s choice to make—no one else’s. And once the decision was made, there was no going back. Whatever the outcome, whatever her mother would say, she would live with it, because Kat knew what it would have meant to her father.
* * *
The building of Arthur Kill, Staten Island, looked as if it had fallen right out of an episode of Prison Break. Guards with huge, angry-looking dogs patrolled tall lookout towers surrounded by wreaths of vicious barbed wire fencing.
Kat pulled up to the gates of the parking lot and waited for the officer on duty. After silently taking her ID badge, he disappeared into the guardhouse and soon returned, directing her toward the morose-looking structure she worked in.
Once parked, Kat glanced to her left to see a large group of inmates playing basketball behind a huge metal fence. With their green coveralls tied at the waist, their sweat-covered chests gleamed in the hot June sunshine. The walk from her car to the building seemed miles long, especially when she heard wolf whistles and catcalls from the basketball court.
She hurried her step and grabbed the handle of the large door like a lifeline. Inside, pushing her bangs back with a flustered hand, she was welcomed by a low chuckle. She looked up to see Anthony Ward, the narcissistic prison warden.
Ward was in his late thirties, and while his face was round and youthful, his hair was combed and gelled to within an inch of its life. He assessed Kat with dark gray eyes and a quick smile that revealed a large dimple in his left cheek. “Miss Lane,” he said, extending his hand.
Kat ignored it and tried to compose herself by running a palm down her knee-length charcoal skirt. “Mr. Ward.”
Pulling back his hand with an embarrassed nod of his chin, he stood poker straight in an effort to look taller. Kat noticed he did this a lot, especially around the inmates. It didn’t work. Poor guy was born stumpy.
“So,” he began. “How are you? Settling in well?”
Kat smiled. “Yes. I think so.” Her classes had been fairly event-free so far. And her students no longer used the F word like a comma when they spoke to her.
Ward adjusted his tie. “Good. Well, don’t forget I’ll be observing your session this morning. And anything you need, just come and see me.”
“I will, thank you.”
She walked past him, ignoring the way his eyes stayed on her chest a touch too long. His lecherous tendencies and his inability to view the inmates as anything other than scum rubbed Kat the wrong way. He didn’t see how the inmates could possibly better themselves while incarcerated, unknowingly making Kat’s job appear pointless. As a result, she avoided him as much as she could.
When Kat entered her classroom, she was grateful for the cooling breeze of the AC window unit. The rest of the facility was like a damned sauna. Twisting her hair off her neck, she turned when her teaching assistant, Rachel, entered looking flushed.
She blew a breath through her cherry-stained lips. “Christ, it’s hot as Hades today,” she complained, flapping her T-shirt in a futile attempt to cool down.
Rachel had been a lifesaver since Kat started. Qualified in assisting the inmates with learning difficulties, Rachel had helped Kat get to know her students quickly—especially Riley Moore, a colorfully large personality who suffered terribly from dyslexia. Not that it had stopped him from achieving a business degree from NYU.
Riley was one of her favorite students. Inside for dealing stolen car parts, his six-foot-three frame and broad shoulders would put Atlas to shame. He was funny and flirted with both women shamelessly. Unlike Ward, however, Riley was charming and uttered every word with his tongue firmly in his cheek. It was hard not to find his relentless yet harmless innuendos endearing, especially with his dancing hazel eyes and bearded cherubic face.
There were four other students in the class, all of whom worked hard and tried to keep themselves in check. Kat was more than a little proud at how quickly she’d brought them all to heel. Their progress had been fantastic.
At two minutes after nine, Riley’s booming voice broke the quiet. Kat grinned when she turned to see him, flanked by a guard, followed by her other students.
“Miss L!” he bellowed, holding up his hand for a high five, which Kat met with a small slap. “Good weekend?”
“It was lovely, Riley. Thank you. And yours?”
“Ah, you know.” He shrugged. “Causing shit here and there, making Ward’s hair recede more and more by the day.”
Kat repressed a snicker as Ward entered the classroom with her other students: Sam, Jason, Shaun, and Corey. Jason smiled meekly from under his floppy brown hair, while Corey and Shaun lifted their chins in greeting. Sam scurried to his desk and sat down without any gesture at all. At first this had bothered Kat, but now she accepted it as part of the routine they’d built up. A routine that, Rachel had explained, was paramount to the men in Kill. For many of them, a schedule was all they had to keep them sane.
Ignoring Ward at the back of her classroom, Kat began her lesson, reviewing their last session and asking the men to describe their favorite places by using metaphors and personification. They set about writing quietly.
“Okay,” she called, bringing the class’s attention back to her. “Who’s brave enough to read theirs out lou—”
The classroom door flew open so hard, it smacked into the wall behind it. A harassed-looking guard, breathing raggedly, stared at Ward, who shot to his feet.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir,” the guard gasped. “But we have a situation in room six.”
“Who?” Ward barked, storming across the room.
“Carter, sir.”
Ward’s eyes narrowed and his mouth snapped into a sharp line. When the door slammed shut behind him and the guard, Kat looked around the room.
“Carter?” she asked.
Riley laughed loudly, immediately clearing the tension Ward forever left in his wake. “Carter. Dammit. That boy never fuckin’ changes.”
3
“You’re not sleeping well, are you?” Ben, one of Kat’s closest yet most irritatingly observant friends smiled sadly as a waiter placed a triple espresso in front of her.
Even without the numerous yawns she’d been stifling all through dinner, Kat knew she looked like crap. Even Estée Lauder couldn’t hide the weariness around her eyes. Besides, he’d known her for six years and nothing got past him. “I tried,” she replied, shaking a packet of Sweet ’N Low.
“You’re still having nightmares?” Beth asked from her seat at Kat’s left. She and Kat had been friends since high school and, despite Beth only returning to New York a few months earlier after teaching in Texas for four years, they’d fallen back into their friendship easily.
It was nice to have her close again, completing their friendship trifecta, even if their constant worrying drove her near distraction. Kat knew they both meant well, but, along with her mother’s continuous anxieties about Kat’s job, it was becoming exhausting.
Ben shook his head. “You can always call me, you know?”
Like protective siblings, he and Beth frequently offered to stay the night when the nightmares hit, or offered the spare beds at their places, but she always declined.
“And wake you and Abby?” Kat asked with a lift of her shoulders. “Why would I call you?”
“Because we’re your friends and we care about you,” Beth said before spooning a large helping of crème brûlée into her mouth.
“Especially with this job,” Ben added.
Kat glared. “Don’t start.”
Ben held his hands up. “Who’s starting?”
Kat stirred her spoon around in her cup. “This job—”
“Is important to you—we know,” Beth interrupted. She was a little sharper around the edges than she’d been in high school, but her chestnut eyes and crazy cropped ash-blonde hair reaffirmed she was still the same girl Kat had known for years. “But we still worry.”
Ben rested a hand on Kat’s. “You have a lot coming up in the next few months.”
Kat dropped her gaze to the table.
“Your father’s anniversary isn’t far away. Just know that Abby and I are here, okay? We love you.”
“And I love you, too.” Beth grinned. “Even though Adam bought me a diamond, you’re still my number one, you know.” She wiggled the finger that held the gorgeous square-cut diamond engagement ring.
Kat tried to smile. “I know. Thank you both.”
Ben replied, “And remember, I’m a lawyer. If anyone in that place gives you a hard time, I’m your man. You know I could dig up shit on the pope if you needed me to.”
Beth and Kat laughed. It was probably true. Ben won most of his cases through sheer dogged determination, dirt digging, and favors. Like a hunting dog, he could sniff out scandal and blackmail at twenty paces.
“Hey, has your mom called?” Beth asked.
Kat exhaled hard. “Three times last night alone.”
Beth’s brow furrowed. “She called me, too. She’s worried, that’s all.”
Kat hummed sardonically. “Look, I know you’re Team Mom—”
“I’m not team anyone,” Beth countered. “I simply see where she’s coming from. It must be difficult for her.”
Kat huffed. “Difficult for her? She’s been on my case since I took this damned job. ‘It’s unsafe.’ ” She mimicked her mother’s tone. “ ‘I’m putting myself at risk working with those animals,’ blah, blah, blah.” Her shoulders slumped. “Why can’t she be supportive?”
“She means well,” Ben said. “She’ll come around.”
“Sure,” Kat replied, unconvinced.
* * *
Carter woke, having slept soundly; maybe he’d worn himself out plotting against Anthony Ward. He smiled. The motherfucker really had no idea who he was messing with.
He was to stay in his cell until four—two hours to go—which was when his twenty-four-hour punishment was over. For pushing a chair into a wall. What bullshit.
Maybe he’d pushed it a little harder than he should have, but his philosophy tutor had most definitely overreacted. And Ward? Well, he just knew all of Carter’s buttons to press.
Jack soon arrived with a rescheduled visit for Max and a disappointed look on his face, which made Carter’s insides clench. He appreciated Jack’s gesture, given the man’s thoughts on Max, and once again, he kicked himself for acting like a dick with his counselor. His mouth just ran away with him sometimes.
“So, I take it we don’t like philosophy?” Jack had asked with a small grin. “Aristotle not doing it for ya?”
“Not exactly.”
Jack nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for the shit storm from Anthony Ward, by the way. I owe you big-time for that.”
“About that,” Carter mumbled from his bed. “My bad.”
It was the closest to an apology Jack would get.
“Yes, it is,” Jack agreed. “Jeez, Wes, you’re better than that.”
Carter sighed despondently and pulled his knees up to his chest. “The guy was talking crap, Jack. He deserved it.”
“Well, whatever your reasons, you have a lot of making up to do.”
“Oh, yeah?” Carter snapped.
“Yeah,” Jack returned, undaunted. “I’ve enrolled you in Literature. I know you like to read.” He gestured to the shelves on the right wall of the cell, filled with battered, dog-eared texts. “And the tutor is a woman, so maybe there won’t be as much hostility.”
“Hostility?”
“You know what I mean,” Jack said sharply. “You promised you’d try, so prove to me you are. I had to kiss that son of a bit—” He glanced toward the prison officer standing two feet away. “I had to speak nicely to Ward to give you another chance. Don’t tell me I’ve wasted my time here.”
Carter sat forward, running his hands over his buzzed hair. He was at a dead end. Ward had not only Jack’s balls in a vise but his, too. He wanted nothing more than to beat the arrogant shit with his book of “rules,” but he couldn’t let Jack down again. He was stressed, frustrated.
“You’ll do fine,” Jack said quietly, moving a step closer. The guard behind him shifted, too.
“Yeah,” Carter muttered. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Even after his long sleep, fatigue began to creep silently over him. The walls had started to close ever so slightly, making his head heavy. Twenty-two hours locked in one room could do that to a man. Even him.
“Tomorrow morning,” Jack said with an encouraging nod. “The tutor is Miss Lane. She’s very good. Try to be … Just try, okay?”
“Okay.” Carter held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Jack smiled. “And just to be safe, I’ve made sure all the chairs in that classroom have been bolted to the floor.”
Carter laughed loudly. “Good thinking, J,” he called before the guard shut the door of his cell, leaving him alone once again.
* * *
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.
