A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(172)

“I never wanted that,” Eva answered. “I just … I want you protected, Katherine. You’re all I—I didn’t tell you because I want what’s best for you.”

“Carter is what’s best for me. He may have made bad choices, but he’s a good man and I love him.”

[page]Eva closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t lose my daughter, too. I won’t. You’re risking too much!”


“Carter isn’t dangerous!” Kat exploded. “Jesus, Mom. He protects me. He’s protected me since I was nine years old!”

Eva’s face changed to one of perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. You don’t trust a thing I do or say.”

“That’s not true,” Eva argued. “I just—”

“What, Mom?” Kat huffed in exasperation. “Worry? Get scared? Guess what? So do I.”

Eva moved closer. “Listen to me, Katherine. Come home with me. Let’s talk. I can’t keep fighting with you like this. I want us to go back to how we were before all this.” She wrung her hands together. “Don’t you see? This is all because of that damned job, because of him.”

Kat bit her tongue, halting the vitriol that threatened to spill. “I need to be with Carter.” She turned on her heel and made for the door.

“Katherine, wait!”

Kat stopped, took a breath, and turned slowly.

“Talk to me,” her mother urged, pain lacing her features. “I … I want to make this better. I want to make us better.” Frustration and hurt were clear in the sharpness of her shoulders. “I hate that we’re like this. I want … I want my daughter back. Please. I love you.”

Kat fought back the urge to go to her mother and find comfort in her arms. God, she was tired. They’d never fought this way before, never been so far removed from each other. Even after Kat’s father had died and Eva had fallen into herself, there were still moments of affection and hope. A part of Kat’s heart wanted there to be a resolution to the bullshit separating them now, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Too much had been said. There was no bridge big enough to cross the divide gaping between them.

“Until you accept that Carter is going to be in my life, I can’t do that, Mom.”

Without waiting for Eva to respond, Kat hurried back up the stairway, needing to get back to Carter, to have him tell her everything would be all right. She needed him around her, needed his scent in her nose and his skin under her hands. She needed his lips on her mouth and his voice in her ear.

The hallway to reach him suddenly seemed a mile long. She rubbed at a dead ache settling above her heart and pushed the bedroom door open, pausing in the doorway, holding her breath.

Empty.

She called his name.

“Katherine, please,” her mother continued from the hallway, having followed her up the stairs.

But Kat didn’t respond. Hastily, she stormed into the en suite.

Empty.

With her heart slamming into her ribs, she dashed back into the bedroom, calling his name.

His bag was gone.

She pushed past her mother, who was still muttering words such as “amends” and “love,” and threw herself down the steps, running in a full sprint to the back door.

Cigarette. He’s having a cigarette. He promised.

“Carter?” The back door flew open, showing only a thick layer of snow across the vast gardens.

Empty.