In Plain Sight by Hope Anika

Chapter Seventeen

“What did you do?”

The Oracle stood beside the .22 trailer, her pale winter gaze hard in the afternoon sunlight. She wore a long patchwork skirt and a brilliant green peasant blouse. Her ruby red hair was loose, her feet were bare, and a thick collection of gold bangles clanged at her wrists. Rye would have said she looked the part, but nothing about her seemed like an affectation.

“You’re the oracle,” he replied.

Her brows rose. “It doesn’t take a psychic to see the foot hanging out of your mouth.”

The acerbic response made him smile.

Because things were looking up. Fi had reached out.

She had tried.

It wasn’t enough; not nearly enough.

But it was a good start.

“You don’t need to worry about it,” he said. “We’re just working some things out.”

Thea folded her arms beneath her breasts and stared at him. The hair on the back of his neck bristled, but he refused to react.

Damn Oracle.

“The first time I saw Fi,” she said matter-of-factly, “she was trying to walk her wasted mother back to their trailer. It was pouring rain, everyone on the show was watching, and Kisa was high as a kite; she kept pushing Fi to the ground and kicking her. Fi was ten.”

The image cut through Rye, and he froze.

“I decided I was going to be her friend right then and there. Do you know why?”

He said nothing.

“Because she kept getting up. No matter how horrible Kisa was to her; how abusive and ugly, Fi would just get up and try again, and eventually, she got Kisa home and into bed.”

A couple jogged past on the bike path and smiled in greeting. Rye nodded shortly.

“That’s who Fi is,” Thea continued. “A caretaker. Always has been, always will be.”

Again, Rye said nothing. He continued sweeping the brush across the faded red velvet that lined the .22. It was Friday, so likely he’d been working the joint.

Since Tex could be counted on to no-show.

The midway was taking shape around him beneath the bright, late-afternoon sun, stands being set up and flashed out, rides unfolding, tents raised. Several joints were lined up further along the path. On one side of him was Ares’ balloon game, on the other sat the duck pond. The wagon was kitty-corner, right next to the path. Selena was inside, working diligently to get it cleaned and set up.

“Fi’s heart is too big for her own good,” Thea added.

“What’s your point?” he wanted to know.

“She took care of Kisa, even though it should have been the other way around. When Kisa hitched her train to Max’s father, Julian, she took care of Julian, too. And when Max’s mom died, and Julian brought him to the show, she added Max to that list—even though she was younger than all of them. She fed them, cleaned their filthy clothes, and kept their filthy home. It didn’t matter that they hurt her and ignored her and forgot about her; she wanted a family, so she took what she could get.”

Rye set aside the brush and picked up one of the rifles waiting to be cleaned.

“Fi was fifteen when Max left for the service,” Thea continued doggedly. “He didn’t tell anyone; he just left. Joined the Army and shipped out. Fiona was devastated. We all were.”

Goddamn Max. Rye was getting tired of the mess he’d left behind.

“We knew he wouldn’t be back. He was finally escaping. It was all he’d ever wanted: to escape.” Thea shook her head. “It wasn’t that he went. We all understood that he would go. It was that he did it without saying goodbye. That he just walked away without so much as a word. We didn’t deserve that.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Oracle.” Rye met her pale gaze. “You won’t hear me defending him.”

“A year later, Julian and Kisa died in a car accident, and Fi was totally alone,” Thea said as if he hadn’t spoken. “Max came back for the funeral and told her they weren’t family, that they never had been. Then he left. Again. I guess it didn’t occur to him that without him, the state would put her into the system.”

Everything within Rye went still. “She went into foster care?”

“Briefly.”

Memories crashed through him; faces flashed, different homes, strange rooms. Scents, sounds, the violent beat of his own heart. Running. Always running. He’d never stayed in any of them long, and none could hold him.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Are you beginning to see where I’m going with all of this? Fi has been alone since the day he left her standing there. It’s all she knows, the only place she feels safe. You can’t expect to change that in a handful of days.”

But he did.

He did. “Who got her out of foster care?”

“Hatchet. He told them he was her grandfather, and since her birth certificate listed her father as unknown, no one argued.”

When Rye thought of his mother, he felt only sadness. That she’d been who she was; that he’d never known her as anything different. That any chance they might have had died long before it could live.

So he understood why Fiona had cared for her family, regardless of who they’d been. He would’ve done the same.

But he’d never quit. He’d never stopped believing in possibilities, never stopped wanting more.

Never stopped risking everything for it.

But you’ve got a monster inside.

And Fi didn’t.

“Fuck,” he said again. He met Thea’s waiting gaze. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I can finally see what’s inside of you.”

Which he didn’t like. At all. “What does that mean?”

“Darkness isn’t always bad. Sometimes it’s necessary to fight fire with fire.”

He wasn’t certain what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“I think you’ll be good for her,” Thea said and shrugged. “And I know she’ll be good for you.”

“She’s afraid,” he said. “I can’t do anything about that.”

A snort. “She’s one of the bravest people I know. She just needs time. You know Max. You couldn’t have expected this to be easy.”

No.

But neither had he expected to take one look at Fiona and lose sight of everything but her.

Everything but them, together.

“You can’t give up,” Thea told him.

“Not in a million years.” His gaze narrowed. “What about Max?”

“What about him?”

“He wants her forgiveness. And yours.”

“He can burn in eternal hellfire.”

Poor Maxie. And he thought hunting down killers was hard work.

Thea nodded toward the popcorn wagon, where Ares stood at the window, talking to Selena. “How’s she doing?”

He wasn’t surprised Fi had clued her in about Selena. Not unlike Max, his little flower did what she thought was best, regardless of the fallout. “She’s surviving.”

“She’s a ticking time bomb, you know.”

He knew. “That your spidey sense at work?”

A surprised laugh escaped her. She looked over his shoulder, and her smile froze.

Rye turned to look. A man was striding toward the popcorn wagon. Tall, broad, clothed in camo and a black tee. Shaved head, black eyeglasses—

“Shit,” he said.

“Max?” Disbelief colored Thea’s voice. “Holy crap!”

Goddamn it.“He’s going to have kittens.”

“Why?”

Rye strode toward the wagon, angling to cut Max off. Thea followed, and Fi suddenly appeared from the other direction. When their gazes clashed, the dark, hungry yearning within him howled.

Later.

“Son of a bitch,” Max snarled as he halted in front of the wagon’s serving window and glared at Ares, who stood blocking his way. Selena was visible in the wagon, hard at work, unaware of the storm that had just descended. Max turned and pointed at Fiona. “You did this.”

“I did this,” Rye corrected before Fiona could respond, and Max shot him an incredulous look.

“This is protective custody?” he demanded.

“Cool your tits, Special Agent Prescott.” Fiona halted beside the wagon, propped her hands on her hips, and arched her brows. “You’re drawing attention to yourself. What are you doing here?”

Max glared at her. Ares watched him, his blue eyes cold. And Selena leaned down and peeked out the window. When she saw Max, her face fell.

“I came to check-in,” he hissed. “And it’s a damned good thing! Look at this bullshit!”

“It’s under control,” Rye said, and when Max glowered at him, he only stared back. “I’ve got this.”

“We’ve all got this,” Fiona added flatly.

Max ignored them and focused on Selena. “Get your ass out here. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to end up like the rest of them?”

The girl flinched; the color drained from her face, and Rye had to check himself from planting his boot in Max’s ass.

Fiona felt no such compunction.

“You stupid, ungrateful jackass!” She surged toward her brother, slapped her palms against his chest, and pushed. Hard.

He stumbled back.

“You don’t get to do that,” she snarled. “You dropped her off and walked away. You don’t get to come back now and punish her. I will kick your ass six ways from Sunday before I let that happen.”

“She’s a goddamn federal witness,” Max retorted furiously, his voice low. “She can’t be out in public like…like…”

“Like what? Like a kid working the carnival for a summer? Isn’t that why you brought her here?”

He opened his mouth, closed it. A flush filled his cheeks, and he turned to burn Rye with his gaze.

“This is idiocy,” he bit out.

Rye shrugged. “Best hiding place is always in plain sight, brother.”

“Goddamn it, I knew I shouldn’t have brought her here. I knew it!” Max turned to glare at Selena. “Let’s go. Now.”

Fiona moved toward him again, but Rye stepped between them. She halted and glowered at him.

“I mean it,” Max said. “We’re going. Move your ass.”

Selena only stared at him.

“You don’t have to go,” Ares told her. “You can stay with us.”

“For as long as you want,” Fiona added and shot Max a dirty look.

“You are not staying here,” Max gritted. “Let’s go.”

But Selena didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She didn’t do anything but watch him, her eyes churning behind the lenses of her glasses.

“Selena,” he hissed.

“Stand down, hot head,” Rye said calmly. “Don’t break what you can’t afford to buy.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Max pointed at Selena. “Either you come out, or I’m coming in. Make your choice.”

She stared at him for another long, silent moment, and the tension rose. Fiona tried to step around Rye, but he moved with her, and again she halted. And glowered at him.

“Selena,” Max ground out. “I swear to God—”

“You can go to hell!” Selena yelled suddenly and slammed her palms down against the metal counter. “You said you would protect me, and then you left. And now you show up and think you can tell me what to do? You’re not my father—you’re not anyone! I’m alone now. I decide, not you. And I’m not leaving!”

“Oh, honey,” Fi said quietly. “You’re not alone.”

“Yes, I am!” A sharp, painful laugh. “I have no one left. No one.” She looked at Max. “You least of all. I hate you.”

This time it was Max who flinched. “So hate me. I don’t care so long as you’re safe.”

“Safe.” Another ragged, broken laugh. “There’s no such thing as safe. That’s a lie. Just leave me alone, Max. I don’t want to testify. I don’t want anything.”

She turned and fled; the wagon door slammed an instant later.

“You’re still a selfish prick,” Ares told Max.

Then he went after her.

Max moved to follow, but Rye halted him with a firm hand on Max’s shoulder. “Let him. He’ll take care of her.”

Max jerked away. “He’s just a kid.”

“He hasn’t been a kid for a long time,” Thea said.

Rye had forgotten she was there, but Max stopped short. His head snapped around so fast, Rye was certain he’d given himself whiplash.

“Hello, Max.” The smile that curved her mouth was pure ice. “I see you’re still making friends and influencing people.”

Fiona again took a step, as if to interfere, but Rye shook his head, and she growled at him. But she stayed put.

“Thea.” Max’s voice was rusty. He stared at her, his gaze darkening, and then took a step toward her as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Ares will bring her back,” she said coldly. “Even though he’s right.”

Max only stared at her. “Right?”

“You are still a selfish prick.” She looked at Fiona. “Hair of the dog. Good advice.”

“Told you so,” Fi said.

Thea nodded and walked away. Max watched her go, his hands curled into tight, impotent fists.

“Well done,” Rye told him and slapped him on the back. “Fucking it up like a champ. Come on. You need a drink.”