A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1) (28 page)

This led to Kat asking him about his love of bikes and the origin of it. She loved how his face lit up when he spoke about Kala. Carter explained that Max’s father had been a mechanic, and he’d practically lived in the shop from the age of nine, watching and listening as cars and bikes were brought in, disassembled, and rebuilt over and over. Carter had learned everything he knew about engines right there.

Despite his initial protestations, Carter devoured the omelette she placed in front of him, with a few grunts and words of appreciation. It was oddly normal, having Carter sitting at her dining table.

They’d both finished, with their empty plates between them, and were arguing playfully over who was better, the Beatles or the Stones, when Kat’s apartment phone began ringing. The sound made Kat’s heart stutter.

Carter turned around and gaped at the still ringing phone. Kat could see he was curious as to why she hadn’t answered it, but, to his credit, he didn’t say anything. Kat fisted her hands in her lap when the answering machine kicked in.

“Katherine, it’s your mother. I know you’re home; Nana told me. We need to talk. I— There are things to be said, dealt with, and the way you left … Beth is frantic and still very upset. I don’t understand you. Call me.”

The beep of the message ending thundered around the apartment and rattled Kat’s very core. If her mother thought she was going to apologize to anyone, then she was sorely mistaken. Kat hadn’t done anything wrong. None of them understood her heart. None of them.

Carter placed his forearms on the table. His face was concerned, with a tinge of anger around his blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

Kat nodded, not trusting her own voice.

“Wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head sharply but gave an apologetic smile. He sat back, his eyes still on her. She wrapped her arms around herself and exhaled through pursed lips in an effort to calm down. She was embarrassed that Carter had heard her mother, but was also comforted by the protectiveness he exuded. Deep in her heart, she was so glad he was there.

“Peaches?” At the sound of Carter’s voice around her pet name, two large tears fell onto her arm. “Do you wanna get outta here? Go somewhere?”

She wiped at her face. “Where?”

He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know.”

Kat smiled back.

“You want to?” he asked again. “Just you and me?”

She agreed without hesitation, knowing she wanted nothing more than to just be with him, away from all the fuckery going on around her.

“Good.” He stood determinedly, pushing his chair back with his legs, and walked to Kat’s side. He held his palm out for her and waited with patient eyes.

As soon as Kat’s palm touched Carter’s, she was better, calmer, freer. It was the strangest sensation, but she had the sudden urge to tell him so, to tell him she was home with him. To tell him it was the simplest gestures of his that had the largest effect on her heart.

Carter pulled her up and cupped her cheeks in his hands.

“Just you and me,” he repeated in a soft whisper. His eyes roamed across her face while his fingers stroked a piece of her hair. “For one day. Let’s just forget all of the bullshit, and be you and me.”

Kat looked up into Carter’s open face and saw everything she’d ever wanted or desired.

I want you.

I want to be with you.

I need you so much.

I think I love you.

Closing her eyes at the warmth of that realization, Kat pressed her cheeks into Carter’s palms and smiled. “You and me.”

Carter had no idea where he wanted to take Peaches, but she seemed fine with that, which was a huge relief. Carter had no idea what a romantic or intimate gesture was, he just wanted to put the smile back on her face. He would have to make it up as he went along and pray that whatever he thought was cool and perfect would be perfect for her, too.

Carter drove for miles, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge next to a hot Porsche that tried to overtake his ass. Carter pulled back his right hand and blasted Kala past the bastard. He smiled when Peaches laughed behind him.

They drove to East New York, through Cypress Hills, cruising by the park and along Broadway, all the way back to Manhattan. It was the first time Carter had truly stretched Kala’s legs since he’d been out of lockup, and it was awesome. He lost himself in having Peaches behind him, around him, particularly as the wind whipped at them when they crossed the water, back to the island. They couldn’t talk, but Carter knew that was probably what she wanted, although he’d laughed loudly when she’d squealed and giggled into his back as he’d revved Kala hard down Forty-seventh, shooting them through traffic like a bullet.

He could feel her hands through his jacket and—on two occasions—he placed a hand over them, stroking and squeezing. He wanted to reassure her, make sure she was okay, and, each time he had, she’d clutched his fingers back in response.

It was almost six in the evening when Carter pulled up on Fifth Avenue, next to Central Park. It’d started to rain a little, but it didn’t seem to matter. If it meant there would be fewer people around, then Carter was all for it. He sat for a moment with Peaches still clinging to him, listening to Kala’s engine tick as it began to cool beneath him.

“You all right back there?” he asked, unclipping his bike helmet.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m so relaxed, I almost fell asleep.”

He rubbed her hands, which were still grasping him, and turned his head toward her. “You want me to take you home?”

To his relief, she shook her head. “No. I’m not ready to go home yet.”

“Good,” he replied with a small smile. “Me neither.”

Carter helped her off the seat, with his hand in hers. He made to pull away once she was standing, but she held on, slipping her fingers through his. His eyes widened in surprise.

She glanced up at him, her lip wedged between her teeth. “Is this okay?”

Carter smiled. It was more than okay.

Walking leisurely through Central Park, hand in hand with Peaches, was a strange experience. Carter felt ten feet tall, but, at the same time, he was tiny and vulnerable. The chaos surging through his body made him feel exhilarated and scared to death. It was intense.

“You still with me over there?” Peaches asked as they made their way toward the spot by the Alice in Wonderland statue that had become their own, even after just one visit.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Why?”

“You just seem, I don’t know, nervous?”

Carter laughed a strange, strangled type of sound. “Nah, I’m good.”

She looked at him askance, but didn’t push.

The rain eased. They took off their jackets and sat down on them. Carter took a moment to glance over at the Alice in Wonderland statue. It was hauntingly beautiful.

“Here.”

The air in Carter’s chest exploded out of him when Peaches slammed a book hard against him. “What the—”

“I haven’t heard you read for a week,” she said with a hand on her hip. “So read.”

Recognizing the copy of
A Farewell to Arms
, he laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

While he found the page they’d reached during their last session together, Peaches got herself comfortable by leaning against his side with her head on his shoulder, and her arm resting on his thigh. Emboldened, Carter put his arm around her waist and held her close. As Hemingway’s words rolled off his tongue, she snuggled closer, relaxing and melting into him. She was warm against the chill of the air. He put his cheek against her hair while rubbing his palm along her arm.

“I love hearing you read,” she whispered when he came to the end of the chapter. “Your voice is …”

Carter laid the book down on the damp grass. “What?”

“It’s familiar to me, like I know it better than my own.”

Carter’s heart stuttered. Of course she knew his voice. It was all he had thought to use to keep her calm the night her father had died. “And that’s a good thing?”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing.”

Her smile was wide and honest. Carter allowed his arms to encircle her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing her scent.

“Will you tell me more about the statue and your parents?”

Carter shifted and exhaled a grumbled, uncertain noise. “I, um, I don’t—”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she said. “I was just curious.”

Carter glanced at the statue again. He wanted to share with her. The only way they could possibly move forward with whatever the hell was happening between them would be if they knew things about each other. Hell, his family would be a good place to start.

He kept his eyes on hers, anxiety creeping up his spine, but all he saw was encouragement and affection. There was no judgment, no condescension, no trickery.

“My dad met my mom when they were eighteen,” he said through a long exhalation. “They were young, stupid, and from different sides of the tracks. My mom was from a very wealthy family. Her father—my grandfather, William Ford—owned one of the first communication companies in the country, WCS. James Carter, my father, on the other hand, had barely two cents to rub together and made what money he did have from playing music at clubs and painting.”

Carter rolled his eyes at the romance of it all. “That’s how he met my mother. She heard him playing piano one night and approached him.” He clicked his fingers. “That was that.”

Peaches played absentmindedly with the edge of his T-shirt; her silence encouraged him to tell her more, to tell her everything.

“To my mother’s family, my dad was never good enough. He was trouble, a bum, worthless, but my mother rebelled, and they stayed together. They got a cheap, crappy apartment after my grandfather cut off my mother’s money, and, within a year, she was pregnant with me.” Carter clasped the bridge of his nose, easing the tension headache that teased behind his eyes. “She hid the pregnancy for a long time.” Carter laughed without humor. He dropped his hand. “She hid me.”

Peaches’ hand found his chin and pulled his face up. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Exhausted with the tumult of emotion washing over him, Carter placed his forehead against hers. She leaned right back, strong and steady.

“My mother went back to her family,” he continued. “My father had no money and she ran back to them like a coward. My grandfather told her to give me up, and she fucking considered it. It was only because my father turned up at the family house, shouting and demanding his rights, that they relented. My grandfather didn’t want a scene or gossip for the family.”

“Carter.”

“Long story short, my grandmother—my mother’s mom—was disgusted with her daughter’s behavior. She fought for me and told her she had to face her responsibilities. A trust fund was drawn up for me, and full parental rights were given to my father.” He scoffed. In a small voice, he added, “The bitch didn’t even fight it. For me.”

“Unbeknownst to my grandfather,” he said with a self-satisfied smile, “my grandmother put her WCS shares in my name on the day I was born. She had lawyers draw up a secret, binding contract they’ve never been able to dissolve. My cousins are still trying to dissolve it and get me out of the company.” Peaches tensed. “They only discovered it the day she died. That was sixteen years ago, and even then her shares were worth a little under … fifty million dollars.”

He waited. Peaches blinked. “Fifty?” Carter nodded. “Million? Holy hell.” She shook her head, bewildered. “Carter, why are you here? You have so much going for you. With that amount of money, you could go anywhere, do whatever the hell you wanted, and start over.”

Carter shrugged. “I don’t have access to the bulk of it. It’s trussed up in shares and— I don’t care. It means exactly dick anyway. I don’t need their money.”

The Fords—specifically his cousin Austin—had managed to freeze his assets when Carter was first incarcerated. Fucker. Apparently, even as an adult, Carter was still gossip that was frowned upon by his family.

“Do you ever see your mother?”

Carter shook his head. “She died of cancer when I was eight.”

“Oh God, Carter, I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize for her,” he snapped. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” He took a deep breath. “All she did was deny me. She didn’t want me. The only reason she took me once every two weeks was because my grandmother ordered her to in her will. Ordered her to. She just liked pissing her father off. She went through a rebellious phase and got knocked up.”

“What about your father?”

Carter clenched his jaw. “He lives in Connecticut with his new wife. I don’t speak to him. Can we— Can we talk about something else?” He shifted his head sharply to the side so his ear touched his shoulder, and groaned when it gave a loud click. “I need to move.”

He stood, shaking his arms out. He had a lot of pent-up energy that needed releasing. He pulled out his pack of smokes and lit one, taking a huge pull. He turned to see Peaches sitting, watching him, gripping her shins while leaning her chin on her knees. He needed to divert the attention somehow. He’d never been comfortable under a microscope and, even though he knew that she wasn’t asking him to be nosy, telling Peaches personal stuff was still difficult for him.

“So, are you gonna tell me what happened this past week while you were away?”

Tit for tat and all that.

Peaches twisted her hands together awkwardly and pursed her lips. Carter waited, vaguely aware it had started raining again.

“My mother is a difficult woman,” she whispered.

Carter could only imagine how her mother reacted to her job. He wondered fleetingly how she’d react to her daughter’s choice in men.

“She still sees me as a nine-year-old kid instead of a twenty-five-year-old woman. She thinks anybody with a criminal history is capable of evil just like the men who killed my father.”

Carter flopped back against a tree, smoking silently.

Well. That answered that.

“She doesn’t agree with my life choices. She thinks I can’t make my own decisions, and the ones I do make are never the right ones, even my teaching.”