A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(200)

Occasionally, Kat would drop subtle hints about Carter working at a different body shop, or stopping working altogether now that his name was firmly back on the WCS shareholders list, so that he was away from any threat to his parole. At first, her concern had riled him and caused many a heated debate. Now? He understood where her fear came from. She was petrified of losing him, just as he was of losing her. She loved him and wanted to protect him and keep him safe.

Carter tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I would never jeopardize what we have, baby.” He kissed her. “I’ll text you when I’m there, okay?” He kissed her again, his mouth lingering on hers.

“Okay.”

*

Carter left Kala standing by the shop door, texted Kat, and then lit a smoke. He surveyed his surroundings instinctively, watching for anyone who appeared suspect. Once he was sure there was no one near, he disappeared inside the shop.

With every step, his palms got sweatier, and his conscience spoke louder. Bad idea, it said. Yeah. No shit.

He found Max in his office, looking disheveled and sleep-deprived. His clothes were creased, his face unshaven, and his dark eyes were encircled by even darker lines. He, too, was smoking. The cigarette dangled from his lips while he cut a line of coke on the desk with a credit card that was no doubt maxed out. Despairing, Carter pushed his hands into his jacket pockets while Max snorted the line through a rolled-up twenty. He sat back, coughed, and rubbed his nostrils before standing and holding his fist for Carter to bump.

“Thanks for coming, man,” he sniped when their knuckles finally touched. “I wondered whether I could pull you away from banging your precious tutor.”

Same shit, different day.

“I’ve told you before,” Carter replied sharply. “We’re not ‘banging.’ ”

Max gave a derisive laugh. “Ah yes. You love each other. That shit’s a thing for you now.”

Carter ignored his goading and the bitterness in his words. “What the hell am I doing here?”

“I got a tip from a guy I know,” Max explained. “The f*ckers who jumped me at the club: they’re doing a deal tonight.”

Carter lifted his shoulders. “So?”

Max’s eyes flashed furiously. “The deal should have gone to me. Thirty thousand cash. That shit will clear my debts. I’ve called Paul; he’s going to meet us there.”

“Meet us where?”

“At the deal.” Max’s face turned malicious. “We’re gonna show them not to f*ck with me.”

[page]Carter’s blood ran cold. “And how are ‘we’ gonna do that?”


Max gave a chilling smile. “I won’t be pushed to the side. I used to run this f*cking bitch. I either want in on their deals, or they need to learn some respect.”

Carter blanched. “The hell are you thinking? Fuck, Max. This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard! And what if they say no to your proposal, huh? What are you gonna do, make them?”

Max scoffed. “Don’t get all f*cking virtuous on me, Carter. I’m barely keeping the shop afloat. I owe too much! I can’t do anything else, man.”

“I’ve told you,” Carter replied in exasperation. “Let me help you. I’ll give you the money.”

Max shook his head. “No.”

“There’s gotta be a better way than this,” Carter pleaded. “Who’s this tip from, anyway? How do you know this guy isn’t gonna snitch? We could turn up at the meet and be faced with fifteen motherf*ckers baying for blood. Look at what happened last time you f*cked with these *s.”