A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(37)

“Hey, Miss Lane,” he called with a grin as she set off with her things across the room. “I enjoyed today.”

“Me too,” she answered, mirroring his smile. “Oh, and Carter …” She turned back to him while the guard opened the door. “The name’s Peaches.”





9


Carter was anxious. He was anxious and nervous and dammit, where the hell was Peaches?

He was sitting in a nicer room than normal, alongside Jack and his rat-faced attorney. Diane, his case manager, was due in fifteen minutes and Peaches still hadn’t arrived. She was definitely in; Jack had told him so when he’d asked indifferently of her whereabouts. He hadn’t been able to ignore the way Jack eyed him. That shit made him nervous.

The door opened and Carter’s leg ceased its bouncing when Peaches entered. She was stunning in a pale blue top and black pencil skirt. Her hair was up in a loose twist and Carter immediately wanted to unfasten it and grab a handful, just so he could smell it, to see if it still smelled of the sweet peaches he remembered.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she told Jack while glancing at Carter.

[page]He caught the look and smiled. Jack cleared his throat at his side and Carter’s face dropped instantly. Shit. Jack was aware of there being “something” between the two of them, and had asked frequently about Peaches ever since his stupid ass had passed out. It was only a matter of time before Jack would figure it all out.

He’d have to be more careful. He knew he’d been a lot calmer around her. Where Peaches was concerned, his temper had been under control and, as positive a thing as that was, it could prove to be very dangerous. With that thought, he slouched in his seat, averting his eyes from her, and went to work picking at the cuticle on his right thumb.

As if on goddamn cue, Ward entered the room, followed by Diane. She was a striking woman in her mid-thirties, with large dark eyes and brown hair that rested just under her shoulder blades in deep waves.

Ward began by making the introductions to Peaches, who blushed wonderfully when Diane praised her on the work she’d done. Diane walked over to Carter’s table and, without a word, pulled out all the necessary papers. She took a seat opposite Carter and began writing at the top of the application form.

“How are you?” she asked him. “You look well.”

“I’m just dandy,” he answered in his usual blasé, cocky tone.

Diane ignored it. “The parole board is convening in six weeks. Your hearing will be then. But I have a few concerns regarding some instances that may have an impact on your application.”

Carter bristled.

“I have evidence here,” Diane stated while she held up another form, “that you’ve shown aggressive behavior toward other inmates, staff, including Miss Lane and Mr. Ward, and have threatened guards while in their charge.”

“That’s because one of them assaulted me,” Carter fumed. “Damn near broke my wrist!”

“Wes,” Jack warned with an imperceptible shake of his head.

“I’ll be sure to look into that,” Diane assured Carter, making a note in her diary. “But, regardless,” she continued, lifting her head, “you have far more negatives than positives at this point. The question is, what are you doing to counteract these incidents?”

“As you know,” Jack said after a moment of tense silence during which Carter pretended that his right shoe was the most fascinating item on the planet, “Wes has been working with Miss Lane on a three-day timetable, studying English literature.”