Page 9 of Hidden While In Sight

“There may be a ‘little girl’ at play,” Diego said, hearing the bite in his tone. Saying he was going to kill someone over the phone wasn’t smart, but he hated that code word, held over from their days as sicarios. The wording had caused him to think they’d make his first kill a little girl for real. Even at twelve, Diego hadn’t liked hurting women.

The silence through the phone let him drag in a calming breath.

“This isn’t what we discussed,” Ramiro said. “Has something changed?”

The calming breath rushed out of him all at once. “He’s a fucking prick and deserves it,” Diego growled.

Ramiro made that annoying humming sound. “Anything the client can use?”

“No,” Diego bit out.

Hannah moved into the hallway, clad in that fucking swim cap.

“What’d he do?” Ramiro asked.

“Maybe nothing. I’m not sure.” Diego’s finger brushed over the screen as she passed.

“You’re not sure? Aren’t you watching the feed?”

“Of course I’m fucking watching,” Diego said, movement on another camera catching his eye. “All I do is watch, and I don’t like what I see.”

“What are you seeing?” Ramiro asked.

The nanny was at the front door with the kids. It was a beautiful day out, with clouds that looked life fluff; a perfect park day.

And Hannah was at the pool.

“A shadow of my past,” Diego admitted. “I have to go.”

“Wait a goddamn minute!” Ramiro snapped. “The client isn’t going to be happy with this.”

“Not that. Something else came up.” He was going to remove the jacket himself. The need to remove it was a visceral pull.

“Well, call me again first if the urge remains. You sound off. It’s been a while since you sounded off.”

Diego hesitated. “True.”

Most of the people he watched didn’t have families. The few that had families played loving husbands when they were home, even though they were dirty as hell. Their wives were liars, too, with visitors while their husbands were off doing their own nasty business. It had mostly amused Diego and reminded him what a sham marriage vows were.

Love, honor, and till death do they part. The love didn’t last long, the honor was faked, and most couples separated long before death.

It was especially gruesome if the spouse caused the death.

Not that that was common. Diego was remembering again. It was barely a memory, the wispy image of a woman with soft hands and a voice like sunshine.

“Do I need to come see you?” Ramiro offered.

“Fucking hell,” Diego muttered. “Stop treating me like a pussy.”

He hung up, heading out.

Slipping inside the Ashford’s front door was much too easy, just like the first time he’d been there.

Diego kept his steps silent as he made his way toward the bedroom.

Ripping the jacket off the vanity tilted the mirror and sent the small camera flying.

He cussed himself in his head as he bent to pick it up again, checking for damage. The camera seemed fine, and he was careful as he set it up again and tilted the mirror back to its normal slant.

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