A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(19)

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 f*cking 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.