Chasing Absolution (Remington #1)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Tessa

B lood tricked from my nose while my pulse pounded in my skull. I scanned the streets around me, looking for signs of anyone who might have followed me this far. Not recognizing anyone, I dashed down the street as quickly as I could without drawing attention to myself.

My legs threatened to give out in relief as I hustled toward the tiny house, noting the faint cracks in the paint, the chunks of concrete missing from the walkway, and the overgrown grass consuming the yard. I looked down at the scrap of paper in my hand and verified I had the right place. Knowing I had nowhere else to go, I knocked rapidly on the door, my gaze latching onto a man walking his dog, the hair on the back of my neck raising. Just as I prepared to bolt in the direction I came from, the door behind me opened, and I whipped around.

“Tessa?” Layla asked with confusion while she took in the blood I was unable to completely wipe from my nose and the bruising that was likely starting to form.

“I-I’m not even sure why I came here,” I whispered, shaking my head, before lifting my watery gaze to meet her own. “But I need help,” I managed to choke out. Her eyes scanned my face as understanding dawned. She wrapped her hand around my arm and pulled me inside the house before slamming the door and locking three deadbolts behind her.

Seeming to sense I was on the verge of a breakdown, Layla ushered me down the hall and into her bedroom, passing her son’s closed door as we went. She guided me toward her bed. My legs collapsed as the adrenaline began to wane, my body dropping onto her lumpy mattress. Pain shot through every muscle in my body upon impact with the piece of furniture. My eyes moved around her room as Layla’s petite form rushed toward the closet. Threadbare carpet covered the floor, a sickly yellow color painted the walls, and blankets hung from the window frames in place of curtains.

Layla dug around in the back of her closet before returning with a large duffel bag. She quickly began unloading items before handing me a beanie. “Put this on and make sure all of your hair is tucked beneath it,” she demanded. Seeing the blank look on my face, she clarified, “It’ll make you harder to recognize.” I followed her instructions while she returned to her duffel and pulled out a set of car keys, a wad of cash, several maps, and a sweatshirt several sizes too large for her small frame.

My eyebrows furrowed as she tossed the sweatshirt toward me and grabbed a purse from the closet, shoving the maps and cash inside of it. “Put the sweatshirt on too,” she ordered, ushering me into the bathroom and directing me to sit on the toilet.

The soft fabric of the sweatshirt was a sharp contrast to the stabbing pain shooting across my ribcage and stealing my breath as I slipped the garment over my head. I carefully sat down and looked at my surroundings. The outdated multi-tone pink tile was chipped in several places. Rust stains covered the shower wall, and a single light bulb hung from the center of the room. My eyes widened when a cockroach skittered from one corner to the other.

Layla began digging under the sink, and my head jerked toward the first aid kit she held. Her gloved hands moved toward my face before freezing when I flinched away. I closed my eyes as tears welled, angry at myself for being unable to stop the involuntary reaction.

Knowing I was wasting precious time, I forced myself to hold still while her gentle fingers softly prodded the area around my nose. “I don’t think it’s broken, but even if it is, it’s minor enough that it’ll heal without medical treatment.” She tilted my head back slightly. “It looks like the bleeding’s almost stopped, too,” she added, letting go of my chin. Layla swallowed hard, and I knew in my gut what she was preparing to ask.

“What else did he do?”

I hung my head as the tears finally began to fall. Shaking my head, I wrapped my arms around my torso and attempted to hide the wince from the pressure on my ribcage. My voice was hoarse when I confessed, “Nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

Pain filled every crevice of my body. God, how did I live like this for so long? Or more importantly, why the hell did I allow myself to be treated this way in the first place?

Layla dropped to her knees. “Tessa,” she murmured, trying to meet my eyes.

Mustering up enough courage, I raised my head, fully expecting to see her pity. I should have known better.

Layla’s kind eyes reflected nothing but sympathy and understanding. Her hands grasped mine, gripping me firmly. “You deserve so much more than this. He does not get to do this to you anymore,” she said, her voice resolute and unyielding. She squeezed my hands once more before releasing them.

I nodded numbly and followed her into the bedroom just in time to see her shoving an instant ice pack into the purse from before. Layla slung it over her shoulder before dragging me toward the kitchen, where she began tossing granola bars and other packaged food into the bag.

We ducked out the back door less than an hour after my arrival. Weeds sprouted from the remains of the cracked concrete driveway while Layla towed me toward an ancient sedan and pressed a set of keys against my palm before curling my fingers around them.

“It’s ancient, it smells like my grandmother’s house, and there’s a spring in the seat that will poke you in the ass if you sit on it wrong, but it runs. The registration’s current, it’s got a full tank of gas, and it’ll get you to where you need to go,” Layla explained.

Panic clawed at my chest when I realized she was giving me her car. It was too much. I opened my mouth to object, but she spoke first.

“I’ve never been able to afford to put insurance on it, and God knows I could have used the money I put into maintaining it, but every time I thought about getting rid of it, I heard my grandmother whispering in my ear, telling me I needed to keep it.”

Her watery eyes met mine while I tried to think of how I was going to refuse her getaway car.

“I never understood it, but now I know why I was supposed to keep it.” She gave me a sad smile.

I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. Layla reached up on her tiptoes and looped the long strap of the purse over my torso. “I know it’s not much, but I put four hundred dollars cash in here and enough snacks to keep you on the road for a while. There’s a disposable cell phone in here too in case of emergencies. It doesn’t have GPS, and it’s best to stay off the grid whenever possible. The maps will get you anywhere in the continental U.S.,” she continued as I began to shake my head. There was no way I could accept the money, especially when I knew it meant her own go bag would be without it.

Layla nodded firmly in response to my denial. “ Yes, Tessa. This is nothing in the grand scheme of what you’re going to need to start over. You are going to take these measly supplies, and you are going to go somewhere he will never find you. Someplace you’ll be happy. Someplace where you will find the family I know you’ve been without for a long time.” She reached up on her tiptoes, her arms gently wrapping around me, and pulled me into a hug.

Silent tears trailed down my cheeks. I held back the wince her touch caused. Pain ricocheted through my entire body as she unknowingly pressed against injuries that would soon be distant reminders of my former life.

Layla pulled back, her watery smile filled with warmth before she declared, “I escaped my abuser, and now it’s time for you to escape yours.”

Indecision flared within me when she stepped away from me and opened the car door. When I fled the penthouse apartment that functioned as my prison, I didn’t know how I was going to get away. The only thing I’d been sure of was that there was one person I could trust to understand.

The knowledge that this was my only chance at escape settled deep in my bones. “Thank you, Layla,” I choked out. “I promise I will find a way to repay your kindness one day.”

“Just make sure he never finds you. That’s payment enough,” she said before ushering me into the driver’s seat.

I turned the key in the ignition, managing to give my guardian angel a tiny smile of thanks before shifting into drive and pulling onto the road. Unable to think of any place where he wouldn’t be able to find me, I headed north.

For the first several hours, my attention split between the road ahead and the rearview mirror, checking for any signs of a tail. Having seen none by the time I crossed the state border, I gradually began to relax, despite knowing deep down it was too soon to have made a clean getaway.

The fuel gauge chimed, forcing me to pull into the next gas station. I scanned the area around me before digging through my new purse, pulling out a couple of twenties before tugging the hood of the sweatshirt up to obscure my face from any cameras.

Hurrying inside to pay for the gas, the clerk took his time ringing me up while openly looking up and down my body before sliding the receipt across the counter. His tongue slipped out and licked his dry, cracked lips.

Deciding I wanted to escape his presence more than I wanted to relieve my bladder, I dashed back out to the car and pumped my gas, wasting no time before putting as many miles between me and L.A. as possible. I drove through the night, stopping only when I needed fuel or to use the bathroom.

When I first fled L.A., my stomach had been in knots so tight I had no appetite. But as the distance between me and my now ex-fiancé grew, the anxiety I’d be dragged back to him at any moment lessened.

By the time I crossed the Utah border and entered Idaho, the sun peeked over the horizon and granola bar wrappers littered the floor of the passenger seat. Still having no destination in mind, I made another gas stop and pulled out the maps Layla gave me.

I wracked my brain for a place where Daniel wouldn’t find me. When my eyes snagged on Montana, memories of my last family vacation there flooded back, my parent’s faces flashing through my mind. A deep sense of loss gripped me, and I struggled to catch my breath for an entirely different reason. I did my best to inhale and exhale through the feelings threatening to overwhelm my exhausted body. The click of the gas pump jolted me out of my trip down memory lane and I hurried to screw on the gas cap and replace the nozzle.

Deciding the site of my last happy memory with my parents was as good a place as any to lay low in, I pulled onto the highway and headed north. Just as I crossed the Montana border, small snowflakes began to land on my windshield. I leaned forward and stared up at the sky, in complete awe of the fluffy white powder as it grew heavier the further north I drove. It had been years since I saw snow and at first, I reveled in it. The large puffy flakes landed on the glass, bringing a sense of warmth to my soul that had been missing for longer than I could recall. Even as the roads became slick, I was sure the pristine powder that held such fond memories from my childhood was a symbol of my new beginning.

Sharp mountain peaks rose in the distance but disappeared behind the quickly thickening snow. My anxiety built while I searched for a place to pull over for the duration of the storm. While I knew I would have to eventually stop driving, the idea of staying in one place caused my stomach to clench. It was one thing for Daniel to track me down while I was a moving target, but it was an entirely different thing for him to find me while I was a sitting duck. I turned on the radio thinking some music might help distract me from the dark turn my thoughts had taken, only to hear the radio host discussing what was being called “the storm of the century.” My gut sank at the announcer’s words. This was the mountains. How bad did a snowstorm have to be up here to deserve that title?

The wipers swished violently against the windshield, their effort to clear the snow from my sight seemingly in vain as the powder fell faster than they could clear it. I leaned forward in an attempt to see better, because clearly the extra six inches I’d afforded myself would make the difference between whether or not I stayed on the road. Where the hell were all the snowplows? Weren’t places like this supposed to know how to handle the snow?

The wheels of my vehicle began to fishtail beneath my tiny sedan, and I eased off the accelerator. God, I really couldn’t even tell where the road was anymore. Honestly, the only reason I was convinced I hadn’t inadvertently gone off-roading yet was the fact I hadn’t hit a tree.

I willed my trusty chariot to hold on just a little bit longer. The tire treads filled with snow, the rubber unable to gain any traction in the rapidly accumulating snowfall. Despite the fact my prayers had seemingly gone unanswered for years, I sent up one last request, promising whoever might be listening that I’d find a hotel for the night if I could just make it into town.

I leaned further forward, squinting to keep the road in sight. Shit. I really had no idea where I was. I sighed, realizing I easily could have passed the town I saw signs for several miles back and was now driving in the middle of nowhere.

Suddenly, the car slid across the road. The winter storm swirled around me, creating a vortex of frozen crystals and effectively blinding me to my surroundings. I did my best to turn into the skid, but as someone who had never driven in this kind of weather before, my skills were woefully inadequate. The front of the car lurched forward, the bite of the seatbelt cutting into my torso. My ribs screamed, and a small yelp escaped my lips right before the car jerked to an abrupt halt. The sound of something breaking filled the air as my forehead cracked against the steering wheel. Blinding pain ricocheted throughout my skull, and small bursts of light flashed behind my eyelids.

I sat motionless for several long minutes while I fought the urge to vomit. Every nerve in my body throbbed. Even as the haze clouded my brain, the part that enabled me to survive everything up to this point in my life kicked in. I managed to pry my eyelids open and lean back in my seat. Blinking several times, I took in my surroundings. Pain shot through my brain at the brightness of the winter landscape. My hand dropped to the seatbelt before pressing the release mechanism, only for it to refuse to budge. Lips pressed together, I yanked at the wedged buckle before giving up when the pressure in my head became too much.

I leaned down and rested my forehead against the steering wheel as I closed my eyes, allowing myself a brief moment to regain my bearings. Anxiety bubbled up my throat while I fought the urge to break down and cry. Goddamnit. Was that asshole really going to be the reason I froze to death in a snowstorm?

Forcing myself to focus on my breath rather than falling into the pit of despair, I did my best to push down the pain blackening the edges of my vision. Liquid trickled down my temple before sliding down my cheek and causing me to raise my hand to my forehead. I gently prodded my scalp, discovering my beanie was gone as sharp pain danced across my forehead. I pulled my hand back to reveal my fingers, now covered in blood. Bile swirled in my gut at the sight of the sticky red liquid, but I managed to tamp down the urge to vomit. I was never afraid of blood before, and this was not the time for that aversion to rear its head.

I leaned my head back against the seat and took in my surroundings. Snowflakes whipped around the little sedan that symbolized my salvation less than twenty-four hours ago.

Taking the deepest breath I could manage, I fought the urge to close my eyes against the dizziness. My brain screamed at me that my survival hinged on my ability to find a way out of this.

A vague memory of Layla placing a disposable cell phone in the purse flitted through my mind. Reaching toward the passenger seat, I found it empty. I managed to pry my heavy eyelids open long enough to see the purse now lying on the floor of the car where the phone lay smashed to pieces. My thoughts grew foggier as understanding dawned. The loud cracking noise I heard on impact was the phone hitting the windshield. While the knowledge I had no way to call for help washed over me, I took one last look around me, registering the lack of fight left in me.

In the end, the looming darkness behind my eyes won, and the last thing I saw before everything went dark was white…I was surrounded by white.

Huh, perhaps this was what heaven looked like.