Page 60 of Hidden While In Sight

Diego rolled out of bed instead, the backs of her fingers brushing along his length when he did. He dragged in deep, rasping breaths and stumbled into the hallway naked, praying like hell that the kids were still asleep.

He’d forgotten about Ramiro, who got an eyeful.

That helped a little, actually. Maybe he wouldn’t spill all over himself after all.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ramiro cursed, looking back at the monitors.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Diego reminded him, and his friend made a disgusted sound.

The streets, and then the sicario lifestyle, didn’t provide a lot of privacy.

Diego wasn’t sure he’d ever been this hard before in his life. He dragged on a pair of sweatpants, but the one-eyed monster tried to peek out at him from the waistband, refusing to be shoved.

He dragged the waistband higher to contain his dick, smushing his balls instead, and stumbled to the kitchen for coffee.

“So you’re not fucking her?” Ramiro asked, his tone somewhere between shock and pity.

“Ram,” Diego warned, too tired and too horny to threaten him properly.

“Fuck, Diego. I’m not calling her your whore or anything. I just thought—”

“Shut up,” Diego growled, his voice shaky. Ramiro was making Diego picture sinking inside Hannah’s perfect cunt. It wasn’t fucking helping.

“Why not rub it out? It should take you like two seconds.”

“I—” Diego flushed and sucked down his first sip of scalding coffee. “I want her,” he mumbled.

Ramiro snorted. “You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic? You’re the one obsessed with my cock.” The second sip of coffee burned his tongue again as his friend made a rude noise.

At least Ramiro finally stopped talking about his hard-on. He tapped the monitor in front of him to change the subject. “I see why you were asking about the kid.”

Diego moved closer to him, staring at the child’s bedroom. “He must have a son or something.”

“I looked again. The intel didn’t pick up anything.” He took Diego’s glare with a sigh. “I wasn’t doubting you. My guys are usually better than that. I’ll have them check it out again.”

Diego grunted, sipping his coffee and staring at that fancy, too-neat room. Even back under Ashford’s thumb, Emma and Connor had never been that tidy.

“Speaking of my guys, I had them drop this off.” Ramiro lifted a long bar of wood. “It’s not fancy, but it should work if put along the track.”

Diego carried it to the sliding glass door, laying it in place. It was a little tight, but that was better against small, grabby hands. “It’ll do. Thanks.” He’d talk to Hannah about it, though he doubted either of them would forget to check the door’s latch again.

“Sure.” Ramiro folded his arms. He was still stuffed in his suit from the night before.

Diego couldn’t imagine wearing a damn suit; he barely even wore a shirt. “Something else?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow as his friend hesitated.

“About Naz,” Ramiro said. “The cartel is really gunning for him.”

Diego considered telling Ramiro where Naz was holed up, but he was no narc.

“If he needs help, he’ll reach out to you.” Ramiro’s eyes slid to the hallway. “Is that going to be a problem?”

The thought of leaving Hannah and her children alone in the house dried out his mouth. Ramiro was right. What he felt for them was toxic as fuck.

“I’ll handle it,” he said.

Ramiro studied him, then nodded. “See that you do. It’d tear you up if you let that kid die.”

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