Page 41 of Hidden While In Sight

Ramiro was a big guy. His size and his thunderous expression probably scared the kid.

Ramiro’s eyes widened at the sight of Connor. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, covering the body. It had the shape of a body, only now covered in a blanket, but at least those dead eyes were hidden from his son.

Hannah finally stirred. The small cry she made was similar to the one that had ripped him apart through the microphone, but it held a rasp from her swollen throat.

“It’s okay,” Diego said to her softly. “You’re okay. Take it slow.”

“D-Diego?” Her head lifted. The blood that had dripped on her forehead had smeared against his shirt and spread wider on her skin, but it was much better than that slow, dripping path. Her hand shifted, her fingers trembling as they pressed against his shirt. “A dream?” she whispered in that painful rasp.

“I’m real,” Diego said. “I’m here. So is your son,” he warned, bracing her back with one hand as he put the other around the little boy. “Try to sit up for us now if you’re up for it.”

“My head…” She reached for it, wincing as she pressed against her cut. “Hurts,” she slurred, the tone worrying him.

“I bet it does. Don’t move if that’s better. I can carry you.”

“Don’t feel—” Hannah’s eyes crossed as she leaned toward him and threw up on his shirt. “Oh, God,” she moaned, her face paling as she tried to move away.

“It’s okay. No problem.” Diego set her to the side, reached behind his head, and dragged the shirt off. He hated shirts anyway and had only been wearing one because he’d been dressed to leave.

Another hour, and things would have gone differently.

He balled the shirt around the mess and tossed it into the corner before dragging her back into his arms. “All taken care of. Don’t worry about it. Not your fault.” Did head trauma cause nausea? His worry only escalated. Her face felt clammy as it lay against his bare chest.

“Ramiro, doctor,” he said.

“Take her to the clinic.”

Ramiro braced him as Diego rose with her in his arms. Connor still clung to his side.

“Take my car. I’ll handle the rest.”

“No, their SUV,” Diego said. “Help me out first.”

“Emma,” Hannah murmured.

Diego had already been heading that way, nearly tripping with Connor pressed so tight against his legs. “I wouldn’t forget your daughter, mami,” he reassured her.

He let Connor wake up his sister. The little girl seemed to take his and Ramiro’s presence in stride, though she teared up at the sight of her mother.

“It’s okay.” Hannah’s words were still slurring.

“Hold on to your dinosaur tight,” Diego told the little girl. “Your mom’s friend is going to carry you.”

Ramiro gave him a wide-eyed look, but he picked up the little girl.

“Hey, boy, grab that Chomp book,” Diego ordered.

Connor’s trembling eased as he clutched their favorite book, but he tucked himself up close to Diego’s side as they headed to the garage, almost tripping him again.

Hannah’s eyes had shut when he placed her in the passenger seat of the SUV.

“Come on, stay with me, mami,” Diego murmured as Ramiro got the kids into the car. “Maybe I shouldn’t have moved you,” he muttered to himself when she didn’t respond to the brush of his fingers along her cheek. “Ram, were we not supposed to move her?”

Ramiro was having his own problems. “How the fuck does this buckle?” he muttered, trying to put Emma into the car seat.

Hannah’s head lulled to the side. “Ram!” Diego yelled.

“I don’t fucking know!” Ramiro yelled back. “We don’t fucking help people! Come here and fix this so you can get her to the goddamn doctor.”

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