His ambivalence was frustrating as all hell, and he had a smugness that could force any sane person to drink. In spite of all that, Kat had the overwhelming desire to put things right, to help.

That was her debt, after all.

Kat nodded in resolve.

“What?” Rachel asked. “What are you thinking?”

Kat smiled, her fortitude rising to the surface. “I’m thinking Mr. Carter is going to have to start dealing with being around me more often.”

* * *

“Harder!”

Carter grunted.

“I said harder! I didn’t feel a thing!”

Carter grunted again, louder this time as his fist slammed hard into the red protective shield that the prison’s gym officer, Kent Ross, was holding in front of him.

“My three-year-old hits harder, and she’s a girl! Again!”

Carter’s eyes clenched and his knuckles turned the same shade of white as the bandages around them when, with a terrifying yell, he began pummeling the shield with everything he had. The hate, anger, desire, need, and want burst from him through his fists with such force that Ross staggered backward.

After thirty seconds, Carter’s arms began to slow as the adrenaline burn began through his intricately inked shoulders, down his equally patterned biceps, and into his forearms, which screamed under the relentless pounding. He gasped and panted, and almost kissed Ross’s ugly-ass face when he said they were done.

Carter loved the workout; it was the only part of his anger management he enjoyed. The in-house shrink had suggested Ross work with Carter after one of his notorious tantrums, in an effort to vent some of the tension.

Carter slumped against the blue mat he’d been standing on and lay on his back, his chest rising and falling heavily. He really needed to quit smoking. His knuckles smarted and his face throbbed from where the guard had smashed him into the wall during Miss Lane’s class. He was drenched with sweat.

“You did good,” Ross muttered, peering over Carter’s limp body, holding out a bottle of water.

“You nearly killed me,” Carter replied, taking it from him with a shaking hand.

He groaned when he sat up, his muscles protesting immediately, and downed half of the bottle in three giant gulps, dribbling some down his back in an attempt to ease the heat.

“You need to quit smoking,” Ross grumbled, making Carter laugh. “You pushed hard, though,” he continued. “More than usual. Something on your mind?”

Ross and Carter had built up a straightforward relationship over the twelve months they’d been working together. Carter respected Ross’s no-bullshit attitude and liked the way he demanded more from him. Nevertheless, Carter wasn’t entirely convinced that he could tell him what he wanted to know. He scoffed inwardly because Jesus if even he knew what he could say to describe the fucking carnival currently taking place inside his head.

Truthfully, he was amazed it was only a desk he’d thrown in Miss Lane’s class. He’d never in his life been so completely filled with fury that the only way for it to manifest itself was to pick up the desk and hurl it as hard as he could. In retrospect, it was a dumb idea, but he’d had no control of himself.

The one thing that did bother him, and had since he walked from Ward’s office after the “incident meeting,” was the fact that he was subsequently banned from Miss Lane’s lessons. Indefinitely. He wasn’t allowed near her or her lessons and, for some reason that was not sitting well with him, it pissed him off.

The irony was not lost. He’d bitched and moaned about being enrolled in a class. Yet there he was, confused as all hell because a part of him wanted to be in her class, listening to her wax lyrical about poetry and shit he already knew. He wanted to sit in his seat at the front of her class and stare at her, trying to intimidate her.

Miss Lane was well and truly under his skin, and he wasn’t sure whether to be disturbed or delighted by it. He hardly knew her, had hardly spoken to her, yet he couldn’t get her face out of his head. It was just so damned … pretty.

Fuck. He was losing it.

He huffed and supped the dregs of his water out of the bottle before launching it toward the garbage can, where it landed with a crash. Ross sat down next to Carter with a thump.

“I heard about your … episode … in class,” he offered diplomatically. Carter’s face immediately went grave. Ross held up his hands in defense. “Hey, man, no judgment here.”

Carter paused and dropped his eyes. Ross waited.

“It’s just …,” Carter began. “Straight off, I don’t give a shit about these lessons. I mean, I’m not stupid. I read and I know what I know, but … I have to do them for my parole.”

Ross remained quiet.

“But this woman …” He stopped himself, wanting nothing more than to bite his own tongue off. “I don’t know,” Carter finished quietly, more to himself than to the man sitting to his right.

It was the most honest explanation he could give, because, the truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he wanted to be back in Miss Lane’s class. He didn’t know why she made him feel so off balance, and he didn’t know why she’d cleaned him when he was bleeding.

The one thing he did know was that he’d liked it. He’d liked her doing it and he’d liked her being so close to him. It’d given him a chance to look at her properly. He’d been with many attractive women and seen even more, but there was something different about Miss Lane. She was natural, curvy, wore hardly any makeup, and he was damn sure her tits were what God had given her.

He was a tit man, and they were stellar.

He’d thought about touching them.

Nevertheless, the table incident had put an end to that.

Shit.

His parole officer was going to be pissed.

* * *

“Good morning, Miss Lane,” Ward offered as Kat approached his desk. He gestured to the chair at the other side.

“Good morning.”

“So,” Ward said, patting his palms on the arms of his seat. “What can I do for you?”

Kat swallowed down her nerves. Straight to it. “I heard that the incident with Carter could affect his application for early parole.”

“There’s no ‘could’ about it,” Ward answered brusquely. “He’s not going anywhere for the next seventeen months. He’ll serve his whole sentence and like it.”

Something in his tone set Kat on edge.

“Yes,” she countered, keeping her voice pleasant. “I understand he has a meeting with his parole officer scheduled soon.”

Ward nodded.

“And I also understand it isn’t just good behavior that can affect the decision of the parole board.” Kat’s eyebrow cocked when she saw the look of surprise washing over Ward’s face.

He sat forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the desk. “Miss Lane, where are you going with this?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of setting up a meeting with Carter’s corrections counselor, Jack Parker, this afternoon and would very much like to speak with his parole officer during her visit. I know either yourself or Jack can arrange that for me—”

Ward held a hand up to stop her. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask again. Where are you going with this, Miss Lane?”

Kat swallowed. “I want to tutor Carter.”

For a moment, Ward was utterly perplexed. “You did,” he countered, “and he’s been removed because it’s apparent to everyone that the two of you don’t get along.”

Kat ignored the sting in his words. “That may be so, but maybe I wasn’t as patient as I should have been with him.” Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. “I want to help him in any way I can.” Her face warmed under Ward’s scrutiny. “I also know he’s banned from all other subjects, too, so his options are minimal. I think that if I can get Carter on a one-to-one, the chances of him losing his temper will significantly reduce.”

Kat had considered this particular point in detail before she entered Ward’s office. The fact that Carter intimidated her students was one of the reasons she had lost her shit with him. If it were just the two of them, it would surely make things better, right?