Page 68 of Hidden While In Sight

Hannah gave Diego an annoyed look at keeping her children up longer than they should have been, and he loved that even more. It just proved that she wasn’t scared of him. He brushed a hand over Connor’s head and left her to the second story so he could check the monitors one last time that day. He paused outside the door, listening to her soothing monotone and feeling more content than he’d ever been.

When he sat in front of his display of screens, he was surprised to see movement. The prick was already home. Dissatisfaction drifted through him; he had planned to curl up with Hannah.

He sighed, picked up his headphones instead, and was finally given the conversation the client had been looking for. The asshole laughed as he confessed to screwing over his partner while on the phone with someone else. It didn’t matter who; the confession was what they needed.

It took longer than Diego would have liked before the target wound down for the night, exactly what he’d been hoping to do with Hannah. Diego cut out the useful portion of the video and sent it to Ramiro.

He took off the headphones, rubbing his eyes before leaning his head back in his rolling chair.

Fingers slid through his messy hair, making his scalp tingle. When lips brushed against his forehead, the smell of eucalyptus seeped inside him, loosening the last of his tension. He opened his eyes, looking into Hannah’s where she hovered over him. And fuck, she had that soft smile that made her dimple flicker.

“I love you,” he said, the words sliding out, feeling so damn easy.

Her smile faded as her skin flushed and her eyes searched his.

She didn’t say it back.

She straightened away from him, and Diego sat up, not regretting the words, though he was kicking himself at the same time.

When she started to walk away, his hand snaked out, circling her wrist. Not too tightly that she couldn’t pull away, but enough to tell her he wanted her to stay. She stopped, just like he knew she would, and he worried he was screwing things up even more.

A part of him wanted to tell her again. To throw his feelings at her and demand a response.

Diego cleared his throat. “I got what I needed for this job,” he said instead, rubbing his thumb over her wrist before releasing her. “Our time here is almost up.” His gaze shifted around the place that had already begun to feel like a home to him, regret stirring inside. “That means moving the kids again. Shit, that’s not good for them, is it?” Diego rubbed his hands over his face as his gut twisted.

Hannah turned to face him, the tightened, blank expression that he hadn’t seen much of lately slipping over her features.

Diego didn’t need better confirmation than that. The kids came first to Hannah. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself, his mind snarling on the obvious. “Stability is what they need right now. And this”—he waved at the monitors—“doesn’t provide that. If you all stay with me, we’ll constantly be moving. I mean, I’ve got money. We won’t be holed up in shitty places or anything, but that’s still a lot on the kids.” He stared down at his hands, clasped together in his lap, instead of reaching for her. “We should talk this through. Maybe not tonight, but soon.”

The thought of leaving them in a home, one without him there, wasn’t what he wanted at all. Nausea twisted in his stomach at the very thought. But what did Hannah want?

He was almost scared to lift his face at her continued silence. He forced himself to, because he loved looking at her the most. Her face was still filled with blankness, but the tension had softened. She reached out a hand, placing it over his.

Diego’s phone vibrated on the table.

He unclasped his hands, linking one of them with hers and loving the way she squeezed it.

He reached for the phone with his other. “That’ll be Ram. I just sent him—”

When it was Naz’s name on the screen instead, Diego dropped Hannah’s hand. Naz never called. Naz didn’t talk.

Diego answered the phone.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” a woman’s voice rasped into the phone.

“You’re not Naz.” Diego’s tone had gone hard.

The sound of gunfire and distant shouting filled his ears.

“No, but he said, well, not said, but I was pretty sure—”

“Where?” Diego snapped, pushing up from his chair hard enough to roll it back. He rushed to his duffel bag for a shirt.

“I don’t know! We’ve been at this house—”

So they were still there. Diego had figured as much from the last image the kid had sent.

“Where’s Naz?” he interrupted.

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