A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(143)

“You thinking about getting one?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her. She made a kind of coughing sound and shook her head under his chin. He laughed. “Shame. I think you’d look f*cking amazing with some ink on this gorgeous body.” He rubbed himself against her ass.

“Don’t they hurt?” she asked, taking a couple of steps closer with Carter still attached to her like a damned limpet.

“Nah. Of course, it depends where on your body you get it, but really it’s more of a discomfort than a pain.”

“Where did yours hurt most?”

“Under my bicep.” That one had smarted. The ones on his chest had been sore, too, but Kat didn’t need to know that. No f*cker with a needle was going anywhere near her tits.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, grinning when she slid her palm into the back pocket of his jeans and led her back into the crowd toward the food and beer tent. Petey, a guy Carter had known his whole metal-loving life, stood at the humongous grill, serving chicken legs, steaks, burgers, ribs, sausages, lamb chops, and chili that he ladled out of a giant pan. He was a huge mammoth of a man with tattoos and a bald head, which he always wrapped in a red bandanna.

He grinned wide, showing off three gold teeth. “Carter!”

Carter shook Petey’s hand. “Mr. Yates.”

“Long time no see, my friend! I heard you were in Kill.”

“Unfortunately. Got parole a few weeks ago.”

Petey smiled. “So, are you here with Max? I haven’t seen his ass in forever.” His face grew somber. “I heard about Lizzie. That shit was rough.”

“Yeah, it was.” Carter turned to see Kat looking more than a little awkward, and took her hand, pulling her to his side. “But no, I’m here with my …”

What the hell was he meant to say? My Peaches. My Kat. My woman. My tutor?

He cleared his throat. “My friend Kat Lane. Kat, this is Petey. He’s a legend ’round these parts, been here since the dawn of time.”

Kat smiled at Petey and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Petey eyed Kat appreciatively. “Well, I can certainly see why you’re his friend. You’re a stunner, kid.” He glanced at Carter. “I’ve never seen Carter here with a girl before. This f*cker must like you a whooooole lot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He responded with his middle finger, making both Petey and Kat laugh. “Shut up and feed us, *.”

With food on their plates and a draft beer each, they sat on a picnic bench and talked, ate, and watched the world go by. Kat asked him questions about the time he’d spent with Max and Max’s father and what trouble they’d gotten into. He told her stories about the first time they’d gotten shitfaced in the back of Max’s dad’s vintage first-generation Camaro, and how Max had spent the following morning hungover, cleaning the vomit he’d splattered on the wheel trims.

“You two sound like you got into a lot of trouble,” Kat stated with a smile into her beer. “You care for him very much, don’t you?”

“Max is a force to be reckoned with sometimes. But he means well. He’s been through shit I wouldn’t wish on anybody.” He took a deep breath, willing himself to tell her the full story, praying that she wouldn’t run away. “You know that it was coke I got caught with that sent me to Kill for three years, right?”

Kat nodded.

“It wasn’t mine.”

“What?”

“When we were sixteen, Max saved my life,” he explained carefully. “Pushed me out of the way of a bullet during a car boost that went wrong.”