Page 4 of Hidden While In Sight

“You don’t think you’ll fit in with your new neighbors?” Ramiro’s tone was meant to irritate, and it worked.

“Fuck off. You wouldn’t either.” Ramiro had grown up the same way Diego had, scrounging for scraps and only clawing his way out with blood beneath his nails.

“I don’t know. Going legit might be appealing. Everything will fall apart once Nino Zeta draws his last breath.”

“That asshole is so evil, the devil doesn’t even want him.”

“True. Everybody dies though, sooner or later. Usually sooner for men like us.” Ramiro sighed. “I’m getting too old for this shit. The client is irritating even me this time.”

“You really want to go legit?” Diego asked. “Or is it more about settling down? Don’t tell me you don’t want to get between the legs of that secretary of yours.”

The silence that fell over the line was cold. “Don’t mention her.” It had been a long time since Ramiro had used that tone with Diego, the one that said he was close to not being worth it.

“You’re letting your cards show,” he warned, amused.

“Do I have to tell you again, Diego?” Ramiro asked in that same cold tone.

Diego backed off. “I don’t give a shit where you plant your dick. I just hope meeting my neighbors won’t be as boring as I’m imagining. Like every goddamn thing I’ve watched.”

“Have you not even seen a decent striptease with those cameras of yours, you voyeuristic asshole? Is that why you’re in a mood?” Ramiro had thawed some, but his tone still had a trace of the prior chill.

Diego frowned as he tried to remember if he’d seen Hannah naked. He’d seen her working out plenty and eating, or not-eating. And watched her in that damn den, either reading or staring into the camera. It had been disconcerting the first time she’d done it. He’d almost gotten used to the way she zoned out now.

“Not much to see,” he answered.

Ramiro’s laugh was back. “I guess that means they haven’t fucked either. The time has really dragged for you this time, hasn’t it? And you don’t think tossing the place will help speed things up?”

“Nothing to toss. I searched it already. If he’s keeping anything incriminating, it’s not in the house. Did you send someone to his work office?”

“Nothing there either,” Ramiro confirmed. “Maybe our client is wrong and he’s the defender of justice he pretends to be.”

Diego remembered the jackass controlling his wife’s food. “Defender doesn’t fit.”

“He can be an asshole and still do the right things. Assholes don’t all break the law.” Ramiro let out a low hum, the noise he always made when he was thinking. “The client has to be certain enough to pay the fortune we charge. Something must be there. Let’s see what his reaction is to your pretty face.”

Diego snorted. He was handsome enough, if you liked overgrown hair, tattoos, and spindly arms just on the right side of toned despite his efforts to bulk up. Killing didn’t always require brute strength, but it helped when shit went down.

A feminine voice drifted in from the other end of the call, and Ramiro’s tone softened as he thanked the woman for lunch.

His secretary was probably spoiling him with his favorite again. “Go on. Eat with your future wife.”

A near growl came through the receiver. “Fuck off,” Ramiro said, but he hung up.

Diego gave a sideways grin. There was no way he wasn’t taking a moment alone with his secretary. He didn’t begrudge Ramiro his moment basking in sunshine. He’d only seen the woman a handful of times, but his friend deserved someone like that.

Someone smelling of sunshine would chase Diego away. Or chlorine. He glanced through the glass. Hannah toweled off before she headed toward the sliding glass door.

He returned to the wall of monitors. As he traced her progress through the house, he wondered if he should bother putting on a shirt to meet his neighbors, but then decided bare-chested with tattoos was exactly the image he was going for.

Chapter 4

The Ashfords approached the driveway dressed to impress. The lawyer was in some type of tux that looked like every other tux Diego had seen—extremely uncomfortable. His wife was in some sleek, blue dress that hugged her skinny frame, the sleeves adhering to her arms like a second skin and reminding him of her swim outfit. Long, curling locks of light brown hair trailed along her shoulders, a huge improvement over the swim cap.

Diego’s gaze flicked toward her wrist, which her husband’s hand gripped tightly as he led her toward the car in the driveway. Diego leaned against the fuck-me red Porsche that proved Ashford had a small dick and waited for the man to notice him.

Hannah’s gaze slanted his way, scanning his tattooed torso as if she couldn’t help it before she closed her eyes. Yeah, she liked the tats, even if the frigid bitch wouldn’t admit it. The way she forced her reopening eyes to stare at her husband’s back underscored that fact.

Ashford’s steps froze as he finally zoned in on his surroundings. That he’d nearly walked right up to Diego without noticing was another notch against him in Diego’s mind. Taking in danger was the mark of a man, no matter how pampered the life. The rich had more to lose, though a scrap of food when you don’t have much can feel more important.

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