It was the closest to an apology Jack would get.
“Yes, it is,” Jack agreed. “Jeez, Wes, you’re better than that.”
Carter sighed despondently and pulled his knees up to his chest. “The guy was talking crap, Jack. He deserved it.”
“Well, whatever your reasons, you have a lot of making up to do.”
“Oh, yeah?” Carter snapped.
“Yeah,” Jack returned, undaunted. “I’ve enrolled you in Literature. I know you like to read.” He gestured to the shelves on the right wall of the cell, filled with battered, dog-eared texts. “And the tutor is a woman, so maybe there won’t be as much hostility.”
“Hostility?”
“You know what I mean,” Jack said sharply. “You promised you’d try, so prove to me you are. I had to kiss that son of a bit—” He glanced toward the prison officer standing two feet away. “I had to speak nicely to Ward to give you another chance. Don’t tell me I’ve wasted my time here.”
Carter sat forward, running his hands over his buzzed hair. He was at a dead end. Ward had not only Jack’s balls in a vise but his, too. He wanted nothing more than to beat the arrogant shit with his book of “rules,” but he couldn’t let Jack down again. He was stressed, frustrated.
“You’ll do fine,” Jack said quietly, moving a step closer. The guard behind him shifted, too.
“Yeah,” Carter muttered. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Even after his long sleep, fatigue began to creep silently over him. The walls had started to close ever so slightly, making his head heavy. Twenty-two hours locked in one room could do that to a man. Even him.
“Tomorrow morning,” Jack said with an encouraging nod. “The tutor is Miss Lane. She’s very good. Try to be … Just try, okay?”
“Okay.” Carter held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Jack smiled. “And just to be safe, I’ve made sure all the chairs in that classroom have been bolted to the floor.”
Carter laughed loudly. “Good thinking, J,” he called before the guard shut the door of his cell, leaving him alone once again.
*
The final two hours of the punishment crept by at a snail’s pace, and Carter almost knocked the guard off his feet when he finally opened the cell. He stretched his arms back, cracked his neck, and hurried toward the yard.
“Yo, Carter!”
Riley Moore’s thundering voice traveled across the basketball court.
Carter smiled. “Moore,” he replied, strolling toward the giant man.
“Where ya been?” Moore asked with a slap against Carter’s shoulder. “I’ve missed your punk-ass face.”
“Give me a smoke and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Riley pulled a cigarette from his pocket and flicked Carter a match. They made their way to a small seating area at the back of the court.
“Move!” Riley barked.
Carter snorted when the two newbies who’d been sitting in their spot scattered like leaves. He sat down, closing his eyes to the sun beating down on him, letting the smoke whisper from between his lips.
“So what gives? You been somewhere jerking off since yesterday?” Riley laughed and lit a cigarette.
“If only,” Carter replied, watching the basketball game across the yard. “No, it was Ward.”
“No shit,” Riley murmured with a shake of his head.
“I had a slight disagreement with one of the tutors and he put me on twenty-four-hour punishment.”
“It’s on, man.” Riley bumped Carter’s fist. They’d known each other many years, both inside and outside Kill. If Carter needed him, he’d be there.
They both turned when they heard a loud bout of whistles and jeers from courtside.
Riley snorted. “Talking of tutors,” he said, cocking an eyebrow.
Carter followed his stare through the fencing to see a redheaded woman with the sexiest curve to her ass he’d ever seen. Wrapped deliciously in a black knee-length skirt, she crossed the parking lot toward a sweet Lexus sport coupe. Her awesome legs disappeared into black heels that, even from Carter’s viewpoint, were hard-on-inducing.
“Who the hell is that?” he asked, trying to see past the other inmates who were milling at the fence like kids at a damned zoo.
“That’s Miss Lane,” Riley answered, leaning back on his elbows. “My lit tutor. She’s cool, actually.”
Carter snorted. “Well, at least that’s a plus.” He snuffed out his cigarette on the bench.
“What?” Riley frowned, confused.
Carter waved his hand toward where the car had disappeared. “The tutor will be one good thing about doing lit.”
Riley chuckled. “You’re doing lit, too?”
“Yeah,” Carter answered with a roll of his eyes. “Jack wants me to prove to the powers that be I can ‘improve’ myself inside. Some shit about how it could help toward an early parole. I’m not holding my breath.”
“Sounds like a crock to me.”
“Agreed,” Carter replied, leaning back and lifting his face to the blazing sun.
4