Текст книги "A Pound of Flesh"

Автор книги: Sophie Jackson

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Kat’s aggression was surprising 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.”

He sneered.

“I’m sorry,” she ground out. “Is there a problem?”

He glared at her, his face strong and terrifying. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

She blinked. “No. Why?”

He snorted. “It’s a little bit basic, wouldn’t you say, Miss Lane?”

Her jaw tightened. No matter how intelligent Carter assumed himself to be, his attitude made her want to rip the smug smile off his pretty face. And what a pretty face it was. The lashes that framed his baby blues were sickeningly long, lying on cheekbones that were sharp yet masculine. His mouth was plump in all the right places and puckered when he conjured up his smirk. His nose looked as if it had been broken a couple of times, with the small bump visible on its bridge.

“We’re starting with these tasks before we dive into the literature,” Kat explained through gritted teeth. “All roads to every answer start with the basics.”

“Nice,” he retorted, pulling his eyebrows together in a way Kat could only determine as condescending. “Read that little gem in a fortune cookie, did ya?”

Kat placed her palms onto the desk in front of him, invading his personal space, smelling smoke and warmth. “No, I didn’t,” she hissed. “So just do what I ask. Otherwise, there’s the door. Don’t let it hit you on your smart ass as you leave.”

The entire room pulsed with blasting silence. Carter stared back at Kat for mere seconds before he sat up straight in his chair, leaning even closer. She was momentarily shaken when his hot breath whispered across her cheek.

“Watch your mouth,” he seethed.

The guard shifted closer. Kat swallowed.

“No, Carter. This is my class, not yours. So do what I ask or leave. The choice is yours.”

She spun on her heel and walked toward Riley, whose wide eyes and open mouth suggested he was as shocked as she was that she’d tested the patience of the most volatile person in the room. Kat couldn’t explain it. She knew her conduct had been risky and maybe a little unprofessional, but she couldn’t allow her students to behave that way. She had no idea where her bravery—or stupidity—had come from. Maybe it was a deep-rooted need to assert herself after her mother’s unsupportive words from the night before; maybe it was the fear that still prickled her skin from the confrontation between Corey and Jason.

Something about Carter set her on edge. If she weren’t so angry, she might have enjoyed the energy suddenly flooding her veins.

She managed to ignore Carter for the next fifty minutes, glancing at him occasionally to see him sitting in smug silence. She hadn’t seen him even attempt to do what she’d asked.

Asshole.

The officers came to collect her students as she was finishing her closing plenary.

“Later, Miss L,” Riley chimed, following Jason and Rachel out of the door.

Carter barged past everyone, including her, with no regard whatsoever.

“Yeah, see you later,” she muttered.

As soon as the door shut, Kat sank back against her desk and exhaled. It was glaringly obvious that Carter was going to be a difficult son of a bitch.

Great. Just what she needed.

Pushing off the desk, she collected her students’ booklets and pens. She looked reluctantly at the last booklet, placed on the desk where Carter had been. She stared at it, gnawing on her bottom lip in frustration.

What was it about Carter that had her so wired?

She approached the booklet as a soldier would an undetonated bomb and turned it around, opening up to the first page. Her eyes widened and her breath caught when she read the word that meant so much to the man who had conjured so much emotion from her.

DEBT.

5

For twelve hours, Carter had done nothing but fume and ruminate over the ways in which he could make his new tutor’s life hell. He was still astounded that she’d spoken to him the way she had.

No one spoke to Carter like that.

No. One.

Fucking. Ever.

For hours after their meeting, he’d been unable to rid himself of the rage she’d sparked within him, the absolute fury at being spoken to in such a way and, unbelievably and more infuriating than all of that combined, the wild lust that had shaken his entire body.

It was almost as if an electric current had shot between them when she spat her words at him. Goddamn her heavy breaths and her venomous tone, which made parts of him twitch and pulse—parts that had been dormant for a long time, parts that made him want to do wild and wicked things to her all over his desk until she knew how he expected to be treated. He was seething at himself for thinking those things about a woman he’d met for all of fifty-five minutes.

Yeah, she was hot; any red-blooded male could see that, with her auburn Dana fucking Scully hair, full pink lips, voluptuous ass, and killer rack. Christ, her fire was sexy as hell. The desire and hunger which slammed into him had been so unexpected, it had caught him off guard, and in a place like Kill, that was some dangerous shit.

Miss Lane was a sanctimonious nobody who needed to learn fast that he would not tolerate her speaking and acting so … unafraid of him.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering the look on her face when she hissed at him. There was not an inkling of fear or a spark of anything that would suggest he intimidated her. She’d burned with energy so fierce he could taste it in the air between them. He’d even done what she’d asked from him and written the one word he lived by every day.

Not that she’d understand, let alone have experience of it in her pretty, perfect little existence.

The other thing that had irritated him was the fact that the other guys in the class seemed to like her—even Riley, who’d laughed while Carter had fumed and spat out his incredulity during a cigarette before lunch. Carter couldn’t deny he’d been unprepared for the protective tone in Riley’s voice and the hint of warning in his eye.

“You expect me to respect some broad who was probably born with a silver spoon in her fucking mouth and hasn’t had to want for anything?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Riley had answered with a nonchalant shrug.

Carter had snorted and shaken his head. There was no way.

“So,” Riley had said, breaking the silence. “She’s hot, right?”

Carter couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted. “Oh yeah.”

Riley had slapped his back hard enough to make him flinch. “That’s one for the spank bank, my good man,” he’d offered with a wink.

* * *

The following morning, after several cups of coffee, Kat began setting up her classroom. After a relatively good night’s sleep, she’d started seeing the situation a little more objectively. She’d surmised that Carter was in a highly tense and emotional environment, and her demanding him to do what she wanted was not going to make him any less uncooperative. It was going to be hard as hell, but she’d decided she was at least going to try. She glanced at his empty seat, imagining his slouch and his penetrating stare. Lord. This was going to be harder than she thought.

What she read in his file hadn’t been a surprise. Carter was the poster boy for rebellious deviants. Sentenced to thirty-six months for cocaine possession in the second degree nineteen months previous, Carter, since the age of fifteen, had been in detention centers or incarceration of some description at least six months out of every twelve.

He’d dropped out of school at seventeen, where his GPA had been above average. He’d excelled in sports and English and listed Salinger, Steinbeck, and Selby Jr. as his favorite writers. It was clear that he was intelligent, a fact that he’d made apparent with his comments about her class and how “basic” he found the work. Kat bristled at the memory.

She knew she could have him removed from her classroom to make a point that she was in charge. But then he would have won. Giving up and running away, or ignoring the issue, would not do for Kat Lane. She would never be forced to run away from anything ever again. He would not defeat her, and it vexed her that he’d even tried.

Because of her eagerness to get the morning out of the way as fast as humanly possible, she was pacing the front of the room when the inmates entered, led by Jason, who threw a large smile in her direction. Riley bowed and followed him single file. She turned from laughing at Riley and her breath caught. Her heart started to stutter when Carter strode into the room, ignoring Kat and pushing Corey out of the way to get to his seat.

The irrational irritation and heat she’d apparently quelled with her hypothesizing and promise to try reared instantly when their eyes locked for a split second.

Clearing her throat, Kat made her way to her desk. “I’m glad we’re all here. Today we’re going to start our poetry study, which we will do for the next week before we start our Shakespeare play.”

Kat rested her backside against her desk, her skin tingling. She’d seen Carter’s reaction to the poem she’d distributed, and had managed to stay quiet by biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. She focused on getting her words out and not on the desire she had to pull a face, stick her tongue out, or perform some other equally inappropriate gesture.

Jesus—mature, much?

She took a deep breath. “I’d like to start by asking what you all know about poetry.”

The room remained silent. Riley perused the ceiling as he always did, as though the answer was written there, while Jason and Corey looked at her like she’d grown three additional heads. Sam kept his eyes on the desk in front of him, happy to keep quiet after the fiasco of yesterday’s session. He hated confrontations.

Jason slowly raised his hand, meeting Kat’s eyes with trepidation. “They can rhyme?”

“They can, absolutely,” she answered with a smile. “Just like the poem we’ll be studying, but that’s not always the case.”

“They’re always about pansy-ass shit like love,” Riley complained from his seat.

“That is true in some cases, Riley, but not in this one,” Kat replied with a shake of her head. “Would I do that to you?” Riley chuckled.

The undeniable sound of Carter mumbling something into the back of his hand had Kat’s head swiveling in his direction. “I’m sorry, Carter, I didn’t catch that.”

He dropped his hands to the desk and shot her a daggered stare.

“We have a very simple rule in this classroom,” Kat added when the silence continued. “You have something to say, you say it. Okay?” The smile she gave was sugary sweet.

“Or else what?”

Kat cocked her head to the side, studying him. He was undeniably attractive, hiding a rage that simmered beneath his skin.

“Or else you can leave. It’s that simple.” Kat moved closer, speaking quietly. “I’ve told you before. This is my classroom. My rules. You do as you’re asked.” Kat lifted the left corner of her mouth in her own derisive grin. “Not too basic for you, is it?”

“Basic,” Corey muttered behind his hand.

Before Kat could say anything else, Carter slammed his hand down hard enough to split the wood of the desk and shoved his chair back with such force it clattered into the desk behind it. Furious silence blanketed the room.

“Something fucking funny?” he growled down at Corey before shooting a glare at Officer West, who’d moved from his position by the door. “Care to share?” Carter continued, taking a step toward his prey. “I don’t appreciate being left out of a joke.”

Kat was spellbound.

She moved slowly. “Carter, calm down.”

Carter ignored her, bending at the waist to eyeball a wary-looking Corey. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Come on now, Carter,” Officer West murmured while throwing a worried glance in Kat’s direction.

“Carter, sit down,” Kat urged, hiding the panic in her voice with firmness and authority. “There’s no need for this. Cool it.”

“Yeah, man,” Corey continued. “Cool it.”

In a quick move, Carter put his hands under the edge of Corey’s desk and flung it hard against the wall with an almighty roar. The sound of the wood careening into the plastic-covered brick resonated around the room like a death knell.

Everyone was immediately on his or her feet, with Officer West grabbing his baton and lunging at Carter before he got closer to Corey, paralyzed in his seat. Kat’s body seized up behind a psyched-up Riley, who protected her with his size as three more guards descended onto Carter.

Kat watched in alarm around Riley’s mammoth biceps as Officer West threw Carter against the wall. The officers—called by the panic alarm hit by Rachel—were upon him in a second. Kat flinched when she heard Carter’s grunts and curses as they pushed and pummeled him hard while cuffing him.

“That’s my fucking wrist!” he yelled into the face of one of the officers before being slammed into the wall again face-first. The officer twisted his wrist farther with a sadistic smile on his face, making Carter shout out in obvious pain.

“Hey!” Kat cried, whipping under Riley’s arm, past a laughing Corey. She stormed over to the rabble of angry men.

Carter, whose left cheek was pressed into the wall, eyed her furiously. She scowled at the guard who’d tried to snap the bone in his wrist.

“I saw that,” she fumed, pointing to Carter’s cuffs. “You don’t need to hurt him. It’s unnecessary.”

“Oh, Miss Lane, it’s very necessary,” the officer countered with a hard voice. “You need to keep them in check, see.” He pulled Carter into an upright position.

Kat immediately saw blood trailing from Carter’s left nostril, down his lip. “He’s bleeding!”

“He’s fine,” the guard barked. He thrust Carter forward but was halted by Kat’s firm, unmoving hand on his chest.

“Wait!” She paused for a second before going to her purse and retrieving a pack of tissues. She pulled one out and walked back to Carter, whose face read a million and one different things.

He started to protest when her hand moved to his face. “You don’t need to fuc—”

“Shut up and let me help you,” she bit with a finality and insistence that shut Carter’s mouth with a snap. He took a deep breath when the tissue in her hand swiped at the blood.

His eyes on Kat’s face left a trail of warmth from her hairline down to her nose and mouth. Trying her hardest to ignore the fact that her heart was about to burst, Kat focused hard—watching the swiping motion of the tissue—but felt every movement he made. Every time he breathed and it whispered across her hand under his nose, she swallowed, and every time his mouth twitched, her lungs squeezed.

She wiped gently but determinedly until his face was a damn sight better than it had been after the officers had manhandled him so violently. He hadn’t deserved their treatment. She stared intently around his face and noticed a mark starting to appear on his cheek.

The urge to touch the appearing bruise shook Kat to her core. She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze from his. She seemed to have no power over her hand or its intentions as it started to move toward the skin under his eye, where his bone jutted out in all its sculptured glory. She wanted to ease the redness of it through her fingertips and soothe the ache she just knew was burning under his skin, but she couldn’t.

“All done,” she muttered, wiping a spot of blood on her thumb.

Carter frowned. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Instead, he scoffed before the three guards marched him past her and out of the classroom.

Kat heaved a sigh and tossed the bloodied tissue into the trash can.

6

Kat rolled over and shut the alarm off before it even turned on. She was wide-awake and had been for over an hour.

She’d tossed and turned all night thinking and deliberating about what her next move would be with Carter. Their second lesson had been a complete disaster, and that was putting it mildly. She’d tried to be calm. God, how she’d tried. But it wasn’t enough. She’d still managed to become enraged by him.

She had no idea what it was about him. He was, after all, just like the other men she taught. Well, that wasn’t exactly true; he was a lot more combative and exceedingly more aggressive and—she winced at the thought—a lot more attractive, too. She’d tried not to see him in any other way than as her student, but it was hard to ignore the man who drove her crazy.

She rubbed her palms down her face. She knew better than to get involved in any way with any person she taught. The nonfraternization policy of the prison was clear and succinct, and Kat loved her job too much to put it in any kind of jeopardy. She was a professional and no one, not even Carter, could make her forget that.

But Carter was at his most stunning when he was furious. His rage seemed to make his skin glow and the frown lines, which Kat imagined were indentations caused by his hatred for everything around him, dissolved, leaving his face serene and flawless. He was, in those moments, the most breathtaking creature she had ever seen.

As scared as she was when he’d flung the desk at the wall during her class, she’d been unable to tear her eyes from him, watching with fascination as the beast inside him roared. He was animalistic and, for that brief time, utterly uncaged. It was that thought alone that made parts of Kat’s body come alive in spectacular fashion; it was a side of Carter she desired and detested with equal fervor.

Regardless, no matter what her body thought of the matter, Kat knew the guard twisting his wrist was completely unacceptable. Carter hadn’t deserved that.

And she would tell Anthony Ward that very thing when she got to work.

But, for whatever reason, Anthony Ward was not at work when she got there later that morning. A little disheartened and still a lot confused, Kat began preparing her classroom, trying her hardest not to think about whether Carter would turn up. She pulled at the hem of her blouse in frustration when she realized the part of her that wanted him in her classroom far outweighed the part that didn’t, and cursed loudly.

“Wrong side of the bed this morning?”

Rachel’s voice floated from the doorway, clearing Kat’s head for all of five seconds before the battle within started again in earnest. She smiled and raised her eyebrows, unable to articulate correctly why she was cursing to an empty room.

“He’s been removed,” Rachel said plainly while placing her bag on her seat.

Kat turned. “What?”

“Carter.” Rachel shrugged. “Ward told him his temper is out of control. He’s a danger to himself and others.”

“Shit. How did he take it?”

Rachel gave her a wry smile. “As Carter always does: with a few curses and a growl.” She took a step toward Kat. “This is going to affect his parole.”

Kat’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. She didn’t even know he’d been considered for it.

“When is his parole application up for review?” Kat asked.

“The end of the month.”

Kat’s newfound need to work with Carter instead of against him surprised her. She’d known him all of two days, spoken maybe a dozen words to him, mostly through gritted teeth, but still she knew, deep down, somewhere in her stomach, there was something about him, something more—something that set him apart from the other students in her class. Something that called to her in a way she could never explain.

His ambivalence was frustrating as all hell, and he had a smugness that could force any sane person to drink. In spite of all that, Kat had the overwhelming desire to put things right, to help.

That was her debt, after all.

Kat nodded in resolve.

“What?” Rachel asked. “What are you thinking?”

Kat smiled, her fortitude rising to the surface. “I’m thinking Mr. Carter is going to have to start dealing with being around me more often.”

* * *

“Harder!”

Carter grunted.

“I said harder! I didn’t feel a thing!”

Carter grunted again, louder this time as his fist slammed hard into the red protective shield that the prison’s gym officer, Kent Ross, was holding in front of him.

“My three-year-old hits harder, and she’s a girl! Again!”

Carter’s eyes clenched and his knuckles turned the same shade of white as the bandages around them when, with a terrifying yell, he began pummeling the shield with everything he had. The hate, anger, desire, need, and want burst from him through his fists with such force that Ross staggered backward.

After thirty seconds, Carter’s arms began to slow as the adrenaline burn began through his intricately inked shoulders, down his equally patterned biceps, and into his forearms, which screamed under the relentless pounding. He gasped and panted, and almost kissed Ross’s ugly-ass face when he said they were done.

Carter loved the workout; it was the only part of his anger management he enjoyed. The in-house shrink had suggested Ross work with Carter after one of his notorious tantrums, in an effort to vent some of the tension.

Carter slumped against the blue mat he’d been standing on and lay on his back, his chest rising and falling heavily. He really needed to quit smoking. His knuckles smarted and his face throbbed from where the guard had smashed him into the wall during Miss Lane’s class. He was drenched with sweat.

“You did good,” Ross muttered, peering over Carter’s limp body, holding out a bottle of water.

“You nearly killed me,” Carter replied, taking it from him with a shaking hand.

He groaned when he sat up, his muscles protesting immediately, and downed half of the bottle in three giant gulps, dribbling some down his back in an attempt to ease the heat.

“You need to quit smoking,” Ross grumbled, making Carter laugh. “You pushed hard, though,” he continued. “More than usual. Something on your mind?”

Ross and Carter had built up a straightforward relationship over the twelve months they’d been working together. Carter respected Ross’s no-bullshit attitude and liked the way he demanded more from him. Nevertheless, Carter wasn’t entirely convinced that he could tell him what he wanted to know. He scoffed inwardly because Jesus if even he knew what he could say to describe the fucking carnival currently taking place inside his head.

Truthfully, he was amazed it was only a desk he’d thrown in Miss Lane’s class. He’d never in his life been so completely filled with fury that the only way for it to manifest itself was to pick up the desk and hurl it as hard as he could. In retrospect, it was a dumb idea, but he’d had no control of himself.

The one thing that did bother him, and had since he walked from Ward’s office after the “incident meeting,” was the fact that he was subsequently banned from Miss Lane’s lessons. Indefinitely. He wasn’t allowed near her or her lessons and, for some reason that was not sitting well with him, it pissed him off.

The irony was not lost. He’d bitched and moaned about being enrolled in a class. Yet there he was, confused as all hell because a part of him wanted to be in her class, listening to her wax lyrical about poetry and shit he already knew. He wanted to sit in his seat at the front of her class and stare at her, trying to intimidate her.

Miss Lane was well and truly under his skin, and he wasn’t sure whether to be disturbed or delighted by it. He hardly knew her, had hardly spoken to her, yet he couldn’t get her face out of his head. It was just so damned … pretty.

Fuck. He was losing it.

He huffed and supped the dregs of his water out of the bottle before launching it toward the garbage can, where it landed with a crash. Ross sat down next to Carter with a thump.

“I heard about your … episode … in class,” he offered diplomatically. Carter’s face immediately went grave. Ross held up his hands in defense. “Hey, man, no judgment here.”

Carter paused and dropped his eyes. Ross waited.

“It’s just …,” Carter began. “Straight off, I don’t give a shit about these lessons. I mean, I’m not stupid. I read and I know what I know, but … I have to do them for my parole.”

Ross remained quiet.

“But this woman …” He stopped himself, wanting nothing more than to bite his own tongue off. “I don’t know,” Carter finished quietly, more to himself than to the man sitting to his right.

It was the most honest explanation he could give, because, the truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he wanted to be back in Miss Lane’s class. He didn’t know why she made him feel so off balance, and he didn’t know why she’d cleaned him when he was bleeding.

The one thing he did know was that he’d liked it. He’d liked her doing it and he’d liked her being so close to him. It’d given him a chance to look at her properly. He’d been with many attractive women and seen even more, but there was something different about Miss Lane. She was natural, curvy, wore hardly any makeup, and he was damn sure her tits were what God had given her.

He was a tit man, and they were stellar.

He’d thought about touching them.

Nevertheless, the table incident had put an end to that.

Shit.

His parole officer was going to be pissed.

* * *

“Good morning, Miss Lane,” Ward offered as Kat approached his desk. He gestured to the chair at the other side.

“Good morning.”

“So,” Ward said, patting his palms on the arms of his seat. “What can I do for you?”

Kat swallowed down her nerves. Straight to it. “I heard that the incident with Carter could affect his application for early parole.”

“There’s no ‘could’ about it,” Ward answered brusquely. “He’s not going anywhere for the next seventeen months. He’ll serve his whole sentence and like it.”

Something in his tone set Kat on edge.

“Yes,” she countered, keeping her voice pleasant. “I understand he has a meeting with his parole officer scheduled soon.”

Ward nodded.

“And I also understand it isn’t just good behavior that can affect the decision of the parole board.” Kat’s eyebrow cocked when she saw the look of surprise washing over Ward’s face.

He sat forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the desk. “Miss Lane, where are you going with this?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of setting up a meeting with Carter’s corrections counselor, Jack Parker, this afternoon and would very much like to speak with his parole officer during her visit. I know either yourself or Jack can arrange that for me—”

Ward held a hand up to stop her. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask again. Where are you going with this, Miss Lane?”

Kat swallowed. “I want to tutor Carter.”

For a moment, Ward was utterly perplexed. “You did,” he countered, “and he’s been removed because it’s apparent to everyone that the two of you don’t get along.”

Kat ignored the sting in his words. “That may be so, but maybe I wasn’t as patient as I should have been with him.” Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. “I want to help him in any way I can.” Her face warmed under Ward’s scrutiny. “I also know he’s banned from all other subjects, too, so his options are minimal. I think that if I can get Carter on a one-to-one, the chances of him losing his temper will significantly reduce.”

Kat had considered this particular point in detail before she entered Ward’s office. The fact that Carter intimidated her students was one of the reasons she had lost her shit with him. If it were just the two of them, it would surely make things better, right?

Ward sat back in his chair, seeming totally mystified. “Miss Lane,” he muttered. “Just to clarify here, you want to tutor Carter … one-to-one … because you want to help him with his application for early parole?”

She smiled widely.

Ward stared at her incredulously. He shook his head. “I can’t allow it.”

“Hmm,” she mused, chewing on the inside of her mouth in annoyance. “Can I ask why?”

He smirked derisively and straightened his shoulders. “I cannot authorize you to be put in a room with Carter alone—”

“There would be a guard,” she interrupted.

Ward exhaled heavily. “Splitting hairs aside, Miss Lane, you’ve been hired by the facility to teach a group of inmates during an allotted time. On a timetable. Not to work as a one-to-one tutor.” He lifted his hands to the heavens in mock sympathy. “It’s not in your contract, and the facility can’t afford to pay you extra for this.”

Kat smiled at Ward, but it was in no way pleasant. She knew he’d take this angle and knew without doubt that it made no difference to her whether she was paid to do the job or not. As a rule, she never spoke about her family’s wealth, as in the past it had made people uncomfortable, but with Anthony Ward, it wouldn’t trouble her one iota. Being the daughter of a successful senator and the granddaughter of another ensured her bank account was always comfortable.