In Plain Sight by Hope Anika
Chapter Four
“Have you lost your goddamn mind?”The disbelief in Special Agent in Charge Franklin Moss’s voice was matched only by the fury. Max knew, if he’d been standing next to his boss, Frank would be vibrating like a tuning fork. His ears, cheeks, and nose would be bright red; his normally placid brown eyes would be as hard as the dense walnut they resembled, and expletives would be swelling within him like a cloud of ugly, noxious gas. “Jesus Christ, Prescott. You can’t just kidnap the girl. You need to bring her back right the hell now!”
Max stared out at the dimly lit, empty parking lot of Pete’s Petroleum, East Hampton, Indiana’s sole gas station. He didn’t bother to reply.
Frank wasn’t done, and he despised being interrupted.
So Max waited. He’d made the call to his boss because he had to because he wasn’t going back to the Bureau’s Chicago office because he wasn’t taking Selena McLean anywhere near any facility connected to the FBI. Because one of his friends was dead, and all of his trust—in the Bureau, in his colleagues, even in Frank, a man he’d always respected and never had reason to doubt—was bitter ash coating the back of his throat.
Infiltrated.
He wanted to crush them, to squeeze until bones broke and blood made the world slippery.
“Are you trying to destroy your career?” Frank continued in furious disbelief. “You want to get your ass canned and end up as what? A greeter at frigging Wal-Mart? For Christ’s sake, Prescott. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Did you tell Ellen how he died?” Max replied softly. A faint buzz surrounded him, courtesy of Pete’s neon sign, but other than that, the small rural town was eerily quiet. “Did you tell her his head exploded because one of his own betrayed him?”
A ragged sigh. “That’s the job, Prescott. You know that. Farland knew that.”
“No,” he retorted coldly. “Being sold out by our own isn’t the job. We’re not spooks.”
“I’m working on it,” Frank snarled.
But that was hardly any comfort.
“You bring that girl in, or there will be hell to pay.” His voice rose. “I mean it. I can’t protect you from this. The prosecutor is screeching like a goddamn howler monkey!”
“I’m keeping her,” Max told him flatly. “And I’m going to find your leak, and I’m going to kill him.”
“That’s not how we do things, son. You know that.”
Max didn’t care. He’d done his time taking orders as an army ranger. The Bureau had given him a badge, but they issued even more orders. Had more rules. And if he’d spent most of his life toeing the line and weighed down by the ball and chain of responsibility, last night, he’d cut himself loose. He was done being the good guy; done following orders and telling himself that with order came control and discipline and honor.
He was done trying to outrun the shadow cast by his father.
He’d walked the straight and narrow in an effort to be everything Julian Prescott wasn’t. He’d taken more than his fair share—of accountability, of responsibility, of blame—in his journey to be the polar opposite of his wayward, neglectful father, but no matter how much shit he’d taken, it was never enough. There were simply too many Julians in the world, and no matter how much crap Max took, or how much of the burden he shouldered, there was always more. An endless river of answerability; enough to drown him. One in which most people wouldn’t even dip a toe.
So he was done.
He’d shed his past in search of a different life; he’d sought out stature and recognition, and in doing so, he’d abandoned the one person he had left, the one who depended upon him most. In fighting to escape his father’s shadow,Max had inadvertently become him.
He wasn’t sure Fiona would ever forgive him.
A lesson realized far too late, and one he refused to repeat with Selena.
“Where the hell are you?” Frank demanded.
As if he didn’t know. But Max wasn’t stupid. He knew every way they could track him; that’s why he’d deliberately reconnected his Bureau phone and driven to Indiana to make this call. When he was done, they would go to the local Wal-Mart, wave at the security cameras, and pick up a few things for Selena. Then he would disconnect his phone again, and they would drive back to Wisconsin, stopping only when they reached Our Lady of Hope in Cedar Hills.
“You just get to work finding that leak,” he told his boss. “I’ll do the rest.”
“You get your ass into this office, or I swear to God I will make you wish you never stepped foot into Quantico!” Max could almost hear the steam hissing from Frank’s ears. “You really want to throw your entire career away on this? You’re not helping. She’s in danger, and Leland Dolan’s attorney just posted his bail. If you aren’t willing to come in, at least let me send Valentine to you. She can bring the kid in, and you can take a few days to get yourself straight.”
Valentine.
Special Agent Lyssa Valentine, Max’s partner for the past six months. Until last night, Max would have trusted her with his life. But she was one of the five—now four since Farland had lost his head—who’d known that Selena McLean was in that safe house. Which meant he couldn’t trust her any more than he could trust Frank.
The only other person who’d known Selena was in the safe house was Farland’s partner, Lee Chang. Lee was another agent Max had trusted without reservation.
Not anymore. Now, he trusted no one.
Was there a chance that none of them were responsible for the leak? Sure. Information was like a virus, easily shared and hard to contain. It was possible someone had gotten wind that they’d stashed Selena in that house—a conversation overheard, a communication intercepted—and relayed it back to Dolan. But they’d been careful. Really careful.
No one should have known.
McLean was likely dead because one of his handlers had betrayed him. And Farland was likely dead because that same rotten piece of shit had somehow infiltrated their team. It wasn’t rocket science; it was Occam’s Razor.
The simplest answer is the right answer.
“No deal,” Max said finally when he realized Frank was waiting for a response. “I told you: I’m going to find the rat, and I’m going to kill him. Then I’ll take care of Dolan.”
“Prescott—”
“I just wanted you to know,” Max said and hung up.
Silence fell. Somewhere far off, crickets chirped.
“He yelled at you.”
Max turned to look at Selena, who sat in the backseat of the rental car, staring at him with big eyes through the open window.
“He likes to yell,” Max replied grimly. “Makes him feel important.”
She only blinked. “He threatened you.”
Max stared back at her. Bullshitting her was impossible, what with her sitting next to Farland when his head went boom and all. Baptized by blood and death; her pale blue gingham shirt was still flecked with his brains.
Jesus Christ.
“He’s angry because I won’t take you back,” Max said shortly. The truth would protect her better than any lie. “Because I don’t trust him to keep you safe.”
“They won’t stop, will they?”
“They will when I kill them.”
She blinked again, too pale. Nice one, dumbass.
“How will you keep me safe?” she wanted to know, watching him.
“I’m going to take you someplace they won’t look. Then I’m going hunting.”
“Where?”
A carnival.Yeah, that would go over well. Still, it was his best—his only—bet.
“You’ll see,” he said and climbed into the car.
“You’re going to leave me.”
She said it with such certainty that Max looked at her sharply. “I have to get them before they can get you.”
She looked away, out at the faint trace of light on the eastern horizon. “I’m alone now.”
Max didn’t know what to say to that. According to Valentine, the kid had no other living family. When this was done, she had nowhere to go but into the system, a thought that made him even angrier than he already was.
The system. The same system Rye had barely survived.
Goddamn it.
“You’re not alone,” he said. “I won’t abandon you.”
She said nothing, staring into the darkness, and something tightened in his chest. He’d screwed up badly with Fiona; he wouldn’t make that mistake again. He couldn’t.
This girl’s life depended on it.
“If they get me, will it be quick?” she asked.
“They’re not going to get you,” he retorted, annoyed.
“I don’t want to die,” she said. “I don’t want you to die.”
The words were flat, but he could see she was terrified.
Why wouldn’t she be?
She’d watched the assassination of her entire family. Seen Farland’s head explode. Found herself in the middle of a violent firefight followed by an insane chase through the streets of Chicago.
And now the only man upon whom she could rely was getting ripped a new one by his boss in the middle of some random gas station in nowhere, Indiana.
Seriously.
Fiona’s voice echoed in his head. His jaw tightened.
“You’re not going to die,” he said. “And neither am I. Now put your seatbelt on. It’s time to go.”
“Go where?”
But he didn’t respond. He just started the car and drove them away.