A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(15)

“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 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.