Page 6 of Hidden While In Sight

In Diego’s experience, women preferred holding hands over being dragged around. Though he may have been a bastard, he found that praise wet more panties faster than demands did any day.

His phone screen flashed, and he picked it up, frowning at an image that was too dark to make out. At least it was a response.

‘Not visible,’ he sent.

The image was deleted. The replacement was a clear middle finger.

Diego snorted. The kid was such an asshole. Not that Naz was a kid anymore. Hell, none of them had remained kids long with the lives they were born into.

‘Better,’ he sent back, setting another seven-day alarm and putting the phone down. The second picture would be deleted when he checked back later, but Naz was still alive. That was good enough.

A thud drew his gaze back to the monitor. Ashford pressed his wife against the shut bedroom door. He leaned into her, his lips covering hers, and her body stiffened.

Diego frowned. Calling her frigid in his head had been an asshole move. He’d known that. Besides, no one with crotchless underwear could really be that way.

She remained stiff as a board as Ashford kissed her. Her husband was likely the problem. His kiss looked more like a bruising attack.

Ashford still gripped one of her hands, pushing it into the door above her head hard.

The fingers of her other hand curled into the doorframe. She managed to turn her face to the side. Her husband buried his face into her neck, and she made a small sound of distress that twisted Diego’s stomach.

“It’s late,” Hannah said. “Please, may I say good night to—” She let out another small cry at whatever Ashford had just done to her neck.

Diego’s hands balled into fists at his sides.

Ashford lifted his head. “Don’t pretend to be a loving mother to get out of your punishment, Hannah.” He ground her hand into the door. His other hand came up to grab the lower half of her face, forcing her gaze to his. “And you know what you did. Tell me you know.”

Her voice was almost too low to hear through the microphone. “I understand what I did.”

The hand on her face drifted down to her neck, but the camera was too far away to tell whether he was choking her. “Tell me what you did.”

Diego let out a breath. If this asshole was asking her to talk, he must not have been strangling her.

But only silence followed, and Diego took a step toward the door. There was a slight delay in the feed. If her husband was strangling her, Diego would be further behind. He halted at the thought, wondering what the hell he was doing.

Then her voice came. “I-I disappointed you.”

What the fuck? Diego thought.

“Yes, you did.” Ashford’s voice was the same one he used at the dinner table, the voice of an entitled prick snapping an order. “But disappointment, Hannah? You can do better than that. Tell me what you did.”

She remained silent this time. Diego moved back to the monitor, leaning closer to the screen, trying to see her face, but it was blocked by Ashford’s body.

“What did you do?” Ashford asked again, continuing to add pressure to her wrist. Her hand looked white in the dimmed room.

A small gasp, barely audible; Diego strained to hear it. Then Hannah’s ghost of a voice again.

“I embarrassed you.”

“That’s right. You embarrassed me. You’re such a fucking slut.” He pulled her away from the door and let her stumble down to the carpet.

Hannah caught herself on her hands and knees, a flicker of something Diego couldn’t catch crossing her face. “I was clumsy. The commissioner was only—”

“You let him put his hands all over you!”

At his raised voice, her gaze darted to the wall. “Please. I don’t want—”

“This isn’t about what you want, Hannah. This is about what you did.” Ashford’s hands went to his collar, loosening his tie. “You don’t want our children to hear what a slut you are? Then keep silent.”

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