Page 74 of Hidden While In Sight

Diego couldn’t nod. He couldn’t do anything. The memory of how it felt to not be able to breathe dragged at him.

Ramiro moved in front of him, gripping both sides of his face hard. “Look at me, Diego.”

Diego’s eyes focused on Ramiro’s face, which still looked pissed.

“You here?” Ramiro asked.

“Yeah.” Diego nodded, reality sliding back into place.

Ramiro studied him as the moment drew out. He finally nodded, releasing him.

Diego felt the weight of what he’d done pressing on him in a way it never had before. Hannah and her kids were so close to where he stood. Too close. What-ifs began playing in his mind.

“Maybe—” Diego licked his lips, cleared his throat. His hair was still dripping as he tried to swipe a hand through it. “Maybe you should set up two houses,” he managed to say.

Ramiro’s eyes grew hard. “Now? We’re not fucking talking about this now, Diego.” He shoved his arm. “Go on. They’re yours, aren’t they?” The way he said that sent a sickening swirl into Diego’s stomach, so different from what he’d felt only hours before when he’d thought of them as his. “Pack them up and get them out of here.”

Diego’s steps were heavy as he retraced his path to the house that had felt like a home.

Inside, Hannah was sitting in the rolling chair in front of the monitors. All the screens were back on.

Her children weren’t with her. Diego hoped to God they hadn’t seen.

Hannah wouldn’t look at him.

Diego stared at the screen with the slumped body in the kid’s room, the room that had bugged him, the room that had never been used. Blood spattered the unused toys and the animal prints on the walls.

“You saw?” he asked, not needing to ask.

Hannah scrambled out of the chair, shaking where she stood. Her eyes lifted to meet his. Her lip trembled, the sag to her face more pronounced than usual.

“You murdered that man.”

Diego had butchered the man. The way he’d wanted to tear into Ashford after watching him rape his wife.

“I killed your husband,” Diego reminded her, watching her flinch, her eyes dropping. “You knew I was a killer, Hannah. Or did you forget?”

She shook her head.

He wished he still smelled of her shampoo instead of the shampoo of the man he’d killed. He wished she had listened, that she hadn’t watched.

“I’m not sorry.” His tone had grown deep but not emotionless. Too many emotions swirled inside him, out of control, for that. “That asshole was going to rape that little boy. He deserved to die. I’ll never be sorry that I killed him.”

Her head lifted again, and she took a step toward him.

“I’m not sorry I killed your husband either,” he told her. “I only wish I’d made it last longer. He deserved to feel every bit of pain I could bring him. I wanted to torture the fuck out of him.”

She closed more distance between them, holding his gaze.

“I’ve killed people. I’ve tortured people. I fucking spy on people’s dark little secrets and sell them to the highest bidder. I’m not a good man, Hannah.”

She’d drawn close enough to touch him. Her hand trembled as it inched toward him.

“Don’t,” Diego choked out, and she froze. He swallowed down the rising panic. “If you’re scared of me, don’t force yourself to touch me. Never force yourself, Hannah.”

She lurched forward, throwing her arms around him and pressing close to his body. “I’ll never be scared of you, Diego. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Diego’s breath shuddered as his skin writhed beneath her touch. It felt like it would flake off. He held himself still, trying not to drag her under with him. “You can’t, Hannah. You can’t love me. I’m filthy. I’m dirty. I’ll never deserve you.”

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