3. Tessa

3

Tessa

T he sun is low in the sky as I carry Chloe into a restroom, Harry's pudgy hand firmly in mine. The place is busy enough that I feel safe, but not so busy that I can blend in. While there are a few parents with small children here, most of the people passing through are business types and truckers picking up fuel and snacks.

There are only so many main roads out of the city and it's possible one of my pursuers picked the right one. With that in mind, I parked my red Subaru between two trucks around the back of the main building. It won't be visible from the road.

"Mommy, I'm tired!" Harry is cranky and Chloe hasn't stopped grizzling since we walked in. They're both exhausted and hungry. Chloe, I can sort because she's still breastfeeding, but Harry needs some proper food. Only I have no cash.

Enzo was supposed to give me some money this evening, to help pay for essentials, like childcare. My job at the diner is minimum wage, even with tips. I'm barely keeping us afloat.

It's ridiculous , I think, as I pop Chloe on a changing table. Enzo runs a successful club, yet he claims we're broke. Something doesn't add up. I suspect he's gambling again, even though he promised he'd stopped all that when Harry was born.

A fresh start , he said.

And I believed him because ignoring red flags is something I do so well. My mood lifts a fraction when I spot a crumpled ten-dollar bill stuffed in the changing bag.

"Let's go eat," I tell Harry, and his little face brightens immediately.

"Cookies, Mommy?"

"Maybe. Or chicken nuggets and some fries. How does that sound?"

There's a small fast-food place alongside a chain coffee shop. Harry can have a kid's meal while I feed Chloe.

With a bit of luck, Dad's man, Kade, will be here shortly. Once Chloe is clean and dry, we go order Harry's meal.

Harry inhales fries with an unhealthy amount of ketchup while I sit and stare at my phone. Enzo's tried calling me dozens of times. Left me voicemails too, but I haven't bothered listening to any of them. Nothing he says can justify what I overheard.

14 years ago, I vowed never to speak to my father again, but water has flowed under the bridge and a lot of the vitriol I felt for him back then has faded. I still hate him, but he's the only person who can help me now.

Thank fuck he answered his phone. If he hadn't, I'm not sure what I'd have done. My gas tank is almost empty and I wouldn't have made it much further.

"Finished, Mommy." Harry shoves his last few fries away and yawns. Chloe has fallen asleep on my chest, so I straighten my blouse and scoop her up. She snuffles against my shoulder but doesn't stir.

The exit door opens on a breeze and a tall guy in a dark suit walks in behind a fat trucker. He scans the place, his eye-catching on me before moving on. He's not the same man who chased me to my car, but something about his hard expression sets alarm bells ringing.

This guy isn't a frazzled insurance agent or tired trucker. He looks more like a cartel hit man. And from the leather holster bulging under his suit jacket, he's carrying a weapon.

"Let's go pee." Maybe I'm being paranoid, but it doesn't hurt to go hide out of sight.

Harry takes my hand and we join a group of cheerful gray-haired women heading toward the restrooms. They chatter about grandkids and exchange gossip while I slip around them, out of view of the man in the suit.

We all pile into the restroom and they each take turns cooing over Chloe while Harry hides behind my legs. One lady is kind enough to hold Chloe for me while I use the facilities, and then they leave.

I should leave too, but I'm scared.

Surely Kade will be here soon.

We've only met once before, but I haven't forgotten Kade, or how handsome he was. Or the kindness he showed when he found me sobbing my heart out in my father's study.

I'd had a blazing row with my father. He had refused to apologize for sending me away after my mother died. Teenage me saw it as a betrayal, whereas he viewed it as necessary.

I still haven't forgiven him, although I now have a better understanding of why he did it. When I left my father's house that day and flew back to the UK, I vowed never to speak to him again. And because I'm stubborn as hell, I stuck to my guns, even after I returned to the US to take up the scholarship at Ridgeview College.

The exit door swings open, and the man with the suit walks in, grinning like a maniac.

I edge back, keeping Harry behind me. "This is the women's bathroom."

"I know. Now are you going to come with me or is this going to get messy?" He glances at Chloe and then Harry before smiling, making it more than clear he's not averse to hurting them.

The air feels thin. I can't breathe. I'd do anything to protect my children. They are my life. But this man has a gun and I can't fight back while I'm holding Chloe. Right as I teeter on the precipice of a panic attack, a stout woman pushes open the door and enters.

She frowns when she sees the man in the suit. "Took a wrong turn?"

He spins slowly and fixes her with a manic look. The guy's unhinged in a way I've not seen before. He reminds me of a crazed serial killer from a budget horror film. Any minute now, the veneer of respectability will slip, revealing the monster beneath.

"I suggest you leave," he tells her, still smiling.

God bless her, she stands her ground. "I need to use the bathroom."

Harry whimpers. He's picked up on my fear and the rising tension in the room. Chloe stirs in my arms, letting loose a sudden squeal of discomfort as I squeeze her precious little body too tight.

Suit man frowns. " Chert voz'mi, " he grumbles before pulling out his gun and pointing it at the woman. "Get out or die. Your choice, cyka ."

"Go," I whisper. She looks frantic, her eyes wide with fear, and she looks at him, then me, but I nod, silently willing her to leave. If this man kills her, I'll never forgive myself.

She takes the hint and goes, leaving me alone with the smiling assassin.

"Why do you want me?" I ask. None of this makes sense.

He shrugs. "I follow orders."

Maybe my father was right. Maybe I should have stayed in the UK, far away from the violent world he lives in.

The world that killed my mother.