Chapter 153
[ 485 words ]
Chapter 153:
He leaned his head down and whispered directly into her ear.
“If you want to use those clever little survival instincts of yours and start a fistfight in front of your parents,” Jarrod warned, his voice a lethal, vibrating threat, “I am more than happy to oblige and show them exactly how I handle a rebellious wife.”
Caroline’s body instantly went rigid. He had trapped her again. If she flipped him over her shoulder with the precision she possessed, her parents would see her lethal skills. Her cover would be blown.
She stopped kicking. She glared up at him, her chest heaving with defeated rage.
𝖶𝘦 uрdаte е𝗏е𝗿𝗒 weе𝗄 𝗈𝘯 g𝘢l𝗻о𝘃𝗲𝘭ѕ.𝖼om
Mr. and Mrs. Thompson chuckled. They looked at the scene like it was a romantic comedy. Mrs. Thompson even grabbed Caroline’s purse from the side table and happily shoved it into Jarrod’s hand.
Jarrod nodded politely to her parents. He turned and carried Caroline straight out the front door.
The cold night air hit Caroline’s face. She looked over Jarrod’s broad shoulder. She watched her parents smile and wave before pulling the heavy front door shut.
The loud click of the deadbolt echoed in the quiet street. Her old life was officially locked away.
Jarrod carried her down the concrete steps toward the waiting armored SUV. He looked down at her rigid, defeated body in his arms. A dark, victorious smile curved his lips.
“Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Romero,” Jarrod whispered.
Caroline closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest as the reality crushed her.
The heavy, bulletproof door of the black armored SUV slammed shut, sealing them inside.
The vehicle pulled away from the curb, gliding smoothly onto the bridge connecting Virginia to Washington, D.C. Inside the cabin, the silence was absolute and suffocating.
Caroline curled herself into the furthest corner of the expensive leather seat. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, digging her fingernails into her own sleeves. She kept her eyes locked on the streetlights blurring past the tinted window, refusing to look at the man sitting inches away from her.
Jarrod leaned back against the headrest. In the dim, shifting light of the cabin, his deep gray eyes stared openly at her rigid profile. He didn’t bother hiding his scrutiny. He watched the tense line of her jaw and the rapid, shallow rise and fall of her chest.
His sharp gaze dropped lower. He noticed the slight, involuntary pinch between her eyebrows. Her right hand had uncrossed from her chest and was pressing hard against her stomach.
At the Thompson house, during that agonizing dinner, she had mechanically eaten whatever her mother had placed on her plate, chasing the heavy food with nervous gulps of water just to avoid speaking to him.
A flash of dark annoyance, mixed with a strange, heavy guilt, crossed Jarrod’s features.
He reached forward and pressed the intercom button on the center console.
“Bell,” Jarrod’s voice was a low, gravelly command. “Pull over at the intersection three blocks up.”
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