Page 77 of Hidden While In Sight

“No,” Diego repeated, warmth spreading through him.

Hannah was his. She’d always been his.

Ramiro was silent again. His eyes looked hard in his shadowed profile. “Nino Zeta is dead.”

Diego considered the words. The man had given him purpose, but he had been a bastard and worse. Diego wouldn’t mourn, but there would be a hole from the loss, in more ways than one. “You’ve really had shit after shit piled on you over the last few days.”

“You have no idea.” Ramiro pushed out around a grimace. “It’d help if you stopped adding to it. You pissed off two clients in a row.”

“I can kill them too,” Diego offered.

Ramiro snorted. “Fuck, please don’t.” His hands went to the pockets of his suit jacket. “There are things to consider.” His brow furrowed. “I mean, really consider.”

Emma’s infectious laugh reached Diego, muted by the glass. “For me too.” He studied his friend’s profile. “You know, I hated you at first.”

“Yeah,” Ramiro said. “I was the perfect, trained puppet. I deserved it.”

Diego didn’t disagree. Ramiro had pulled him off the streets. Diego had grown stronger, harder, but the new life he’d been pulled into had been just as dark as what he’d been rescued from—maybe darker. That was who he was now.

He stared out into the yard. “You never told me the details of the new job.”

Ramiro huffed out a breath. “There’s no job here. Take a break.” The light from inside the house shined in his eyes as he faced Diego. “I need the fucking break, too.”

Diego nodded. “I’ve found something, Ram. Something I’m keeping.”

Ramiro’s lips tightened. “We’ll see.” His tone had hardened. He turned toward the back door.

Diego scrambled after him. For such a big man, Ramiro moved quickly.

Despite the clean-cut suit, Ramiro’s hands were even filthier than Diego’s. It would be a bitch to kill him if it came to that.

Connor and Emma had gone silent at their entry, their eyes nervous as they looked at Ramiro.

Ramiro didn’t glance at them. “I’d like to talk to you, Mrs. Ashford,” he said.

Hannah flinched at the name.

Diego’s fists clenched.

Ramiro’s eyes flicked down to them. “Alone, Diego. I want to talk to her alone.”

“Like hell, Ram. You can’t just—”

“I can,” Ramiro snapped, his tone one that made Diego want to bloody his face. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But Hannah rose from the table. “Connor. Emma. Go with Diego. It’s getting late.” Fuck, that flash of dimple drained all of Diego’s anger when she smiled at him like that. “Will you help them get ready for bed?”

“You don’t have to talk to him, Hannah,” Diego told her. His voice dropped. “You never have to do anything you don’t want to. Not anymore.”

Hannah laughed, a soft burst of emotion. “You might want to think that through. We have children.”

Perfect children who were already scrambling out of their seats, Emma with Hannah’s help. Diego had never gotten them ready by himself before, but he wasn’t nervous when Emma ran to him and he lifted her up in his arms.

“I’m not far, if you need me,” Diego said, sending a warning look toward Ramiro.

Ramiro stared back at him with that smug little smile Diego still wanted to smack off his face.

Hannah’s eyes shifted to Ramiro. “He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

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