A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(25)

He watched Miss Lane as he exhaled, her green stare unwavering.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” Ward barked. He headed toward the door with wide strides and louder feet.

“We might not be done in ten minutes,” Miss Lane retorted. “We’ll radio you when we’re finished.”

Ward stopped dead in his tracks and put one hand on his hip while rubbing his forehead with the other. “Fine.”

Jack and Carter exchanged impressed looks. Carter was happy as hell she stood up to Ward, if not a little jealous that Ward was getting a tongue-lashing and he wasn’t. Absurdly, Carter wanted nothing more than for her to start mouthing off at him.

“So, is someone gonna put me out of my misery and tell me why I’m here?” he asked instead, glancing between Miss Lane and Jack.

Jack eyed him and his attitude disapprovingly before gesturing to Miss Lane to talk. Carter waited while she cleared her throat, intrigued by her nervousness. It was a new look for her, all fidgety hands and tense shoulders.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that you attending my classes hasn’t really worked out that well.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, lady.”

“Wes,” Jack warned with a curl of his lip. Carter rolled his eyes and signaled for Miss Lane to continue with a lift of his elbow.

“I understand your parole officer will be coming in soon to discuss your application.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

She kept her gaze firm and steady, a fact that made Carter’s fingers twitch. “And I also know that your participation in my lessons was to help with your application.”

Carter huffed out the last of the smoke and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray with three very deliberate and sharp drops of his hand. He continued to stare at the woman in front of him while he slumped back into his seat.

“In English,” he said finally, hiding his smirk when he saw the familiar intensity burst in Miss Lane’s eyes.

There she is.

“In English,” she snarled, “I’m offering to tutor you on a one-to-one basis so you can apply for early parole despite your acting like a complete *, even when people are trying to help you.”

Jack stared in amazement at the little spitfire. Carter let his eyes roam down the curves and skin of her face and neck in fascination as a red heat flashed across her. He licked his lips. Damn, she was hot when she was pissed.

Abruptly, Miss Lane stood from her seat, scraping it hard against the floor before it fell back with a loud clatter. She looked at it, not moving to pick it back up and, instead, grabbed at her bag, dropping it twice before she got a secure hold on it.

Jack stood with her while she struggled. “Miss Lane?”

“Forget it,” she snapped. “I’m not wasting my time. It’s obvious you’re incapable of being anything other than ungrateful when someone offers to help.” She pulled her bag onto her shoulder. “But I get it. I get that accepting my offer wouldn’t help the totally-cool-badass persona you’ve got going on here, and I get that you’re terrified someone might see you for the intelligent person you actually are. I’m sure Mr. Ward will be thrilled that you’ll be seeing out the rest of your sentence, but who cares, right?” She spun on her heel.

Well, f*ck.

Seeing the fire and challenge in her eyes and hearing the truth in her words, Carter suddenly realized the lifeline she was offering, a way of getting the parole he so desperately wanted, and his childish behavior was going to make her walk out of the room, leaving him with nothing. As infuriating as he found Miss Lane to be, he couldn’t deny he was touched that she’d agreed to help him.