Chapter 177
[ 473 words ]
Chapter 177:
She opened the massive stainless-steel refrigerator. She bypassed the expensive pre-packaged meals Dash Kirby had delivered. She reached into the back and pulled out a package of raw, organic chicken breasts.
Caroline filled a pot with water and set it on the induction stove. She boiled the chicken until it was completely cooked through, adding absolutely no salt or seasoning.
She pulled the hot meat out and used two forks to shred it into tiny, easily digestible pieces. She placed the warm chicken onto a clean white porcelain plate.
She carried the plate back into the guest bedroom and set it on the floor.
The dog’s ears immediately perked up. It dragged its bandaged leg slightly, moving toward the plate. It lowered its head and began to eat rapidly, swallowing the shredded chicken in massive, hungry gulps.
Caroline smiled. The tight knot of anxiety in her chest loosened. She reached out and gently stroked the soft, curly black fur on the top of the dog’s head.
Once the plate was licked completely clean, the dog turned. It awkwardly climbed onto Caroline’s lap, curled its body into a tight ball against her stomach, and let out a deep, satisfied sigh.
Caroline leaned back against the edge of the bed. She rested her hands on the dog’s warm back.
𝖥о𝗹𝘭𝗼𝘄 uѕ 𝘰ո 𝘨a𝗅𝗻𝗼𝘷e𝘭𝗌.𝖼𝗼𝗺
In this massive, cold fortress built by a man who terrified her, she finally felt a tiny spark of genuine warmth.
Her eyes drifted toward the open doorway, looking down the hall toward the closed door of the master bedroom.
A sudden, vivid memory flashed in her brain. She felt the phantom, burning heat of Jarrod’s lips pressing against her forehead right before he walked out the door.
Caroline reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt. She pulled out the heavy, black encrypted satellite phone.
The screen was completely dead. There were no missed calls. No text messages. Just a terrifying, empty black void.
A strange, heavy ache suddenly bloomed in the center of her chest. It was a physical pressure, making it hard to draw a full breath. It was an emotion she had actively fought against for weeks.
She missed him.
The realization terrified her. She squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms tighter around the sleeping dog, burying her face in its clean fur to block out the suffocating silence of the apartment.
She sat there on the floor, finding comfort in the small animal. She had absolutely no idea that the dog sleeping peacefully on her lap was a fifty-thousand-dollar ticking time bomb, about to drag her into a violent collision with Washington’s elite.
Monday morning.
Caroline stood in the entryway of the penthouse. She was wearing her crisp, blue hospital scrubs. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, professional bun.
She held out a plastic grocery bag toward K. C. Bell.
Bell stared at the bag. He did not raise his hands to take it.
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