Page 44 of Hidden While In Sight

Her hand lifted to it, and she winced again.

“Take a pill and lie down.”

She got that stubborn glint in her eyes. “We should—”

“You need to rest. We’ll talk in your room.” He stood. “Just talk.”

She hesitated, then agreed. He let her head in first.

He brought her a fresh glass of water. She set the empty one down with a wrinkling of her nose, reaching out to take the new one from him and swallowing one of her pain pills.

Diego sat in Connor’s chair, watching her set the glass aside.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” she said, staring down at her hands. Her head lifted, meeting his eyes for the first time in days.

Diego was relieved hers weren’t filled with tears. He was mesmerized by the green flecks, by being able to see them from close up again because she was alive.

“What do you remember?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Colin came home. Then… not much. He hit me, and from the results…” Her hand lifted to her neck. “I know it was bad, but I don’t remember anything beyond that first moment I saw him.”

“I killed him,” Diego told her.

Hannah grew still.

“I know you asked me not to, but I don’t regret it. I thought he’d killed you, Hannah.”

Her eyes closed.

“Connor,” she murmured before clearing her throat. “How much…”

“How much did he see?” Diego frowned. “He saw the body for sure. And you, all hurt. But I think he showed up after I snapped Ashford’s neck.” The boy would have been more scared of him if he’d seen that part.

She’d paled from his words. “He’s really dead?”

Diego wondered if it would have been better or worse for her to remember the sight of her husband’s dead body. “Yeah.”

Her eyelids squeezed tighter, and then a tear welled up in the corner of her eye and slid down her face. One blazed the path for others to follow. She didn’t sob or wail or make much sound at all, just leaked those silent fucking tears that ripped out his insides.

Diego’s hands itched with the need to wrap her in his arms, but he doubted she’d want that. He didn’t regret killing the bastard. That she’d cry for the asshole made him hate the man even more. He sat in that chair feeling useless, finally giving in to his need and placing his hand over hers on top of the bedspread.

Her hand felt delicate under his. She could be as easily broken as her children. He didn’t like that thought at all. The thought of keeping such fragile creatures safe made sweat bead on his upper lip. Children were so often victims. He cut off the train of thought before he could spiral.

Her hand turned under his, her fingers sliding between his own. Her grip was strong, like she was clinging to him with all her might.

His eyes lifted to find hers open again. Her cheeks were wet, but new tears didn’t form.

“Are you…keeping us?” she asked.

His eyebrows pulled together. “Keeping you safe? Yeah. That knock on your head scared me.” He cleared his throat, feeling awkward, all bent forward with his arm extended. “Focus on healing, and then we’ll talk about what you want to do. You should know…” He cleared his throat, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck. “Hannah, you can’t just go back. We took some steps to cover up what I’d done. I’m not…” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “What I do isn’t legal. Being arrested would be bad for me.”

Her eyes didn’t widen; there was no flicker to her face. Her hand twitched in his.

“Does that mean we’re not allowed to leave?” she asked.

And then he realized what she’d been asking. That he’d thought about kidnapping her didn’t help. He traced the side of her hand with his thumb. “We’ll talk about that later. After you’ve healed more.”

She pulled her hand away.

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