A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(54)

“No.” His face became serious. “I want to see my baby.”

Max grinned.

“Is she okay?” Carter asked. “Have you taken care of her?”

“She’s f*cking gorgeous and, yes, I treated her as if she were my own.”

“Take me to her.”


He followed Max out of his apartment and galloped down the stairs of the building toward the private underground garage. Max flicked on the light switch and Carter gasped when he saw his pride and joy, looking so f*cking spectacular, she took his breath away.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered.

He reached out to let the tips of his fingers touch the pristine leather seat of the black Harley-Davidson Sportster. Kala. He swallowed hard when he grasped her handlebars. It’d been too long. Max whistled and, as Carter turned, threw the Harley’s keys at him, which he caught against his chest. “She looks awesome, Max. Thank you.”

“She’s had an oil change and a polish. I did it myself, of course; I wouldn’t let those greasy-pawed dogs at the body shop anywhere near her, as much as they whined.”

Carter brushed his knuckles across the V-twin engine reverently. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed riding. A luscious image of his Peaches straddling his bike with her knees tight against his ribs as they rode to the coast, holding on to him while he pushed the bike hard and fast, slid lusciously into his mind. He discreetly adjusted himself and stood from his crouched position at the side of Kala, once more letting his hands glide over her exquisite metal.

“I’ll see your fine ass later,” he promised before he walked back over to Max and back up the stairs of the building.

“Okay, man, I have things to see and people to do.” Max smiled, leaning against Carter’s apartment door.

Carter frowned. His friend had aged considerably over the past few months. There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there before. “You stay out of shit, you hear me?”

Max scoffed. “Everything’s cool, man.” But the glaze in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Max ran a hand through his dark, unruly hair and smiled nonchalantly. “Things are handled. No point getting stressed, right? I’ve learned that I can’t control shit.” He sniffed.

“Max—”

Max clapped a hand to Carter’s shoulder. “I’ll be back later with food and women. About seven, okay?”

Carter sighed, holding his tongue. “Sounds good.” He and Max clasped hands and stared at each other for a moment in silent understanding.

“It is good to have ya home, man,” Max muttered.

“It feels good.”

Max squeezed Carter’s hand. “For what you did for me and— To get put away when you weren’t even … I can’t ever thank you enough—”

“Hey,” Carter interrupted. “It’s all good, brother. I owed you.”

Max exhaled hard, anguish and heartbreak clear on his face. “Yeah. I’ll see ya later.”

Once Max left, Carter closed the door and fell against it with a loud sigh. He glanced around his apartment, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. At Kill he’d had a routine, a schedule, people to tell him when and where he needed to be. Now he was free to do what he wanted, when he wanted. Within reason. It felt strange.

With a despondent exhale, he glanced at the clock on the wall and his mind instantly went to Peaches. She’d be in class right now with Riley and company.

Outrageously, jealousy bloomed in his stomach. “Get a grip, idiot,” he muttered. He grabbed his beer from the counter and made his way to his bedroom.