Page 46 of Hidden While In Sight

The narcissist had probably wanted all her attention on him. Diego was saved from verbalizing what a prick Ashford had been by the vibrating buzz of his phone on the desk.

“That’ll be Ram. Give me a minute.” He picked up the phone, answering the call with a grunt as he watched Hannah turn toward the couch against the wall. It was nap time. She’d kept up her habit of reading her Bible while the kids slept.

“This was quick work,” Ramiro said, followed by his humming sound. “Really quick.”

“It’s enough?” Diego asked. The hair on his arms lifted as Hannah’s hand hovered over the copy of the Bible he’d gifted her.

“I’ll need to verify with the client, but it should be.”

Hannah moved away from the pristine one and picked up the older, torn one instead.

Diego was glad he’d insisted Ramiro grab both. Hell, he should have let his gift burn along with the house when Ramiro torched it as part of the cleanup.

He swiveled to face the desk. “I’ll keep watch while you confirm with them. Got the next job lined up?”

Diego listened, pretending not to look at Hannah as his hand rubbed her daughter’s back. The next surveillance job sounded a bit more complicated, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Hannah opened the front cover of her Bible, her hand resting on the first page.

“Location?” Diego asked.

“I’m still working on that. There are a couple of houses near enough to choose from.”

“Any with a pool?” he asked, remembering the way Hannah had enjoyed swimming laps.

Ramiro made a choked sound. “A pool? You fucking hate water, Diego.”

“Not everything’s about me,” he mumbled, forcing his eyes back to the monitor.

A silence. Then: “You sure about this? Keeping them with you?”

“We need some other things, too. Like the food, Ram. We need more pasta and stuff like that. Hey, Hannah?” he called to her.

She froze, her eyes darting up.

“What’s your favorite food?” he asked, realizing he had no clue. He wasn’t going to accept her saying cauliflower or broccoli or some shit like that.

“Whatever you like is fine,” she murmured, dropping her eyes back to her lap.

“Nuh-uh. None of that,” Diego said. “I asked you a question, mami.”

“Did you call her ‘mami?’” Ramiro asked in his ear, making him flush with heat as he remembered his friend was still on the phone.

“Don’t start, Ram,” Diego muttered, his ears still twitching to hear what Hannah would say.

“T-tacos,” she stuttered. “But no, they’re messy, and—”

Diego ignored her protests. “We’ll need all the taco fixings you can think of at the next house. And food kids like. Frozen nuggets, maybe, with ketchup. Some different kinds of candies.” He’d never seen Hannah’s children with candy, but he could picture Emma with a lollipop in her grubby fingers.

“Are you turning into a daddy, Diego?” Ramiro asked with a snort.

“Fuck off,” Diego said, but he didn’t hate the sound of it.

Ramiro’s chuckle faded away. “You know, Zeta used to call his wife ‘mami.’”

“Leave it, Ram,” Diego warned.

His friend sighed. “It’d be safer if we set them up somewhere. You know that, right?”

“No.” Diego’s denial was immediate. He took a breath. “I don’t want that.”

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