“That your new … female plaything?” Riley winked.
“No. It’s not my new ‘plaything,’” he barked before looking back at the cell screen.
“Okay, okay,” Riley retorted before he lit his own smoke. “Chill yourself, asshole. It was only a question.”
Carter exhaled and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “I know … just … It’s not like that.”
“Things are going well with Miss Lane, I assume,” Riley commented smoothly.
Carter extinguished his smoke and blew rings toward the ceiling. “Just swell” was his curt reply.
Riley hummed as though daydreaming. “Damn,” he said in a low voice that he saved for seduction and all things nasty. “I do miss her tight ass in those pencil skirts.” He licked his lips. “And those legs? I could have smooched on those bad boys for—”
“Shut the fuck up, Moore!” Carter bellowed. He snapped his arm up and pointed at Riley menacingly. “Watch your mouth about her.”
Riley lasted all of three seconds with Carter’s finger in his grill before his face creased into a smile the size of the Hoover Dam.
“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” He snickered with his hands up. “You and Miss L, huh? Nice.”
Carter’s arm dropped instantly and a groan of realization and frustration left him. He rubbed his palms down his face and mumbled into them.
“It’s not like that, okay? I mean, I want it— I want her to … fuck.” He snatched his beer from the table and fell back into his chair.
Riley chuckled and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, man, I’m not interested in the hows, whys, or what-the-fuck-ever. I’m just glad that I won the bet I had with myself.”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “Bet?”
“Yeah, I bet myself how long it would take for you two to bone once you were out.” He smacked his huge chest with both of his fists. “Guess I won, huh?”
Carter blinked in shock. “For Christ’s sake, Moore. We haven’t even— Shit, it’s not about boning.”
“Oh yeah, I know, but you get my drift.” Riley smiled and put his smoke in the ashtray. “Hey, talking of fucking hot women, a few of us are going to hit a couple of bars tonight. You in?”
Carter shook his head. “Nah, man, I’ve got stuff to do.”
Riley waggled his eyebrows. “Or someone …”
Despite himself, Carter couldn’t help but laugh.
*
At the end of Kat’s class at Kill the following Tuesday afternoon, she found herself walking toward Jack’s office. Her feet and legs became sluggish, almost willing her not to keep going. But she had to. She needed answers and direction. And, truthfully, even with talking with Beth about her anguish from hurting Carter, there was no one else.
Gathering herself, she knocked lightly against the door.
“Come in.”
Jack smiled when he saw Kat peer around the doorframe. “Miss Lane,” he said, standing from his seat. “Good to see you. What can I do for you?”
Kat bit her lip and allowed her body to slide gradually into the room. She closed the door, grasping the handle as if her life depended on it.
Jack looked concerned. “Are you all right?”
Kat tried to smile back, to reassure him, but it fell flat. She cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck. “I need to ask you a hypothetical question,” she muttered.
Jack frowned. “Hypothetical.” Kat nodded. “Well,” Jack continued, “I’ll certainly do my best.”
He gestured for Kat to take a seat before he sat back down and placed the papers he’d been reading back into a folder. Kat slinked over to a chair and sat down. This was hell. She fisted her hands in her lap and averted her eyes. She never behaved like this. She was usually so sure and steadfast.
“Miss Lane,” Jack said, sitting forward. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” she rasped through a dry throat. “I was just— I was—”
“Did Carter do something wrong?”
Kat shook her head. No. Everything Carter had done had been oh so right.
“I saw him yesterday,” Jack continued. “He seemed anxious about something. Wouldn’t tell me what it was, of course—”
“Who do I speak to about quitting as his tutor?”
The words tumbled from her mouth with such speed, she was amazed they came out in the correct order. As the words settled around them, all she felt was pain. Not physically, but emotionally. She was angry at herself for asking the question she never thought she would. Her eyes became blurry, but she swallowed the tears. She’d done enough crying to last her a lifetime.
“Why would you want that?” Jack asked in a soft voice. “Are you sure he didn’t do something?”
The smile that tugged at Kat’s lips was weak but reassuring. “I’m sure,” she murmured. “Who do I speak to and what are the procedures?”
“Kat,” he said, “why do you want this?” He held his hand up when she started to jump in with an answer. “What I mean is if he hasn’t done anything wrong, or violated the conditions of his parole, how are you going to justify quitting as his tutor?”