A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(40)

He slumped back, grazing the back of his hand against her knee, and her breath caught at the contact. “People think he’s barbaric because he promises revenge, but who the f*ck can blame him? If they’ve labeled him as such, why shouldn’t he live up to it?”

“He could have surprised people,” Kat answered, noticing a definite change in the tone of the discussion. “He could have behaved differently, calmly, and shown that he was a good person.”

[page]Carter shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. If the shoe fits—or the label.” He pointed to himself. “Criminal. There’s no amount of good that erases that shit. It’s easier to live up to people’s expectations than try to change them. It avoids disappointment for all involved.”


Kat frowned. “Then why are you here, and why have I said that I’ll help you get parole and put up with your grumpy ass for potentially another twelve months?”

Carter smiled briefly. “I don’t know, Peaches. Why did you?”

Kat kept her eyes on him for a long time before dropping them to the play. “I have my reasons.”

“Your own pound of flesh.”

Her head snapped up at his words, but he was busy playing with the cigarette box. He took a deep breath. “And I’m here because … I had to be.” Confused, Kat opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. “Did you really mean it?”

“Did I mean what?”

“That you’ll carry on with our sessions.”

“Yes,” she answered. “I want to help in any way I can.”

Carter’s mouth twitched. “Why?”

Kat smiled. “Because I’m a glutton for punishment.”

Carter coughed a surprised laugh. “Fair enough. For a moment I thought it was because you just wanted to be near my hot ass without guards and cameras, but, you know. Whatever,” he deadpanned.

Kat cupped her palms to her face. “I am so transparent.” She laughed at Carter’s snort of amusement. “Now shut up and do this work.” She pushed a sheet in front of him, along with a pen.

“Yes, ma’am,” Carter replied with a wink that sent parts of Kat’s body into a small frenzy.

No guards or cameras, she mused as she watched him start writing. She let her eyes explore him from his sexy buzz cut to the sharpness of his stubbled jaw. Her blood warmed in excitement when her mind began to wander.

*

“Fucker!”

“Motherf*cker!”

“Shithead!”

“Shithouse!”

“Bitch!”

Carter stopped moving and stood slowly from his stooped position, halting the basketball by grasping it in one large hand. He cocked a puzzled eyebrow at Riley who was panting with gritted teeth and red cheeks. Carter watched him for at least twenty seconds before realization passed over the big f*ck’s face.

“What the hell you waiting for?” Riley growled, standing a little straighter.

“Did you just call me a bitch?”

Riley stood to his full height and glared back at him. He sniffed and glanced around at the other two inmates who’d been playing the fast-paced, almost violent game of basketball for the past forty minutes. They both began to shift uneasily from one foot to the other. Riley leveled his stare back at Carter.

“Yeah,” he answered, jutting his chin out in defiance. “I did. So what?”

Carter frowned and then smirked. “Just checking,” he replied before launching the basketball over Riley’s head to his partner, Greg, who caught it and threw it, like a goddamn pro, through the hoop, winning the game by two.