Chapter 38
[ 489 words ]
Chapter 38:
He saw her sitting on the sofa in her parents’ living room, her face flushed a violent, beautiful red, her chest heaving as she pushed against him. He remembered the soft, frantic gasp she made against his mouth. He remembered the smell of her skin—clean, warm, and completely untainted by the toxic world he lived in.
His heart, which had been beating with cold fury, suddenly shifted rhythm. A sharp, painful ache of pure craving hit his chest.
Jarrod’s eyes snapped open. The darkness in them was replaced by a burning, urgent need.
“Neither,” Jarrod ordered, his voice thick and gravelly. “Turn the car around, Bell. Take me to Alexandria.”
The heavy SUV tires spun on the gravel, tearing out of the Romero estate and accelerating into the night, hurtling toward the only place Jarrod wanted to be.
The rain started just as the black Escalade crossed the Potomac River. It wasn’t a gentle drizzle; it was a violent, driving autumn downpour that lashed against the windshield, blurring the streetlights of Alexandria into smeared streaks of yellow and red.
Inside the Thompson residence, the atmosphere was entirely different. It was warm, bright, and filled with the mundane, comforting sounds of a normal family weekend.
Fо𝘭𝘭𝗼𝘄 𝘂𝘀 о𝘯 𝗴a𝘭no𝘃𝗲𝘭𝗌.с𝗈𝗺
Caroline sat cross-legged on the thick, beige living room carpet. She was wearing an oversized, faded gray cotton t-shirt and loose flannel pajama pants. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few stray strands falling across her forehead.
She was staring intently at the two playing cards in her hand, her nose crinkled in deep concentration.
Sitting on the sofa above her, Mr. Thompson shuffled a deck of cards with practiced ease, while Mrs. Thompson arranged a small pile of quarters and one-dollar bills on the coffee table. It was their sacred Saturday night tradition: low-stakes Texas Hold’em.
“I fold,” Caroline groaned, tossing her cards face down onto the carpet. She dramatically pushed three quarters toward the center pot. “Dad, you’re bluffing, I know it, but I can’t risk my laundry money.”
Mr. Thompson chuckled, scooping up the coins. “That’s the game, sweetie. You have to play the player, not just the cards.”
Caroline rolled her eyes, a genuine, relaxed smile finally touching her lips. For the first time in forty-eight hours, the crushing weight of assassins, hospitals, and forced marriages felt far away.
Ding-dong.
The sharp, sudden chime of the doorbell sliced through the laughter.
Caroline’s smile vanished instantly. Her body went rigid.
Mrs. Thompson put down her cards, frowning at the clock on the mantle. “Who on earth is visiting at nine o’clock on a Saturday in this weather?”
She stood up, smoothing her sweater, and walked out of the living room toward the foyer.
Caroline held her breath. Her fingers curled into tight fists against her pajama pants.
She heard the deadbolt click. The front door opened.
A second later, Mrs. Thompson let out a high-pitched, breathless gasp that echoed down the hallway.
“Oh! Colonel Romero! My goodness, come in, come in out of the rain!”
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