CHAPTER SEVEN
THE LITTLE GIRL SAT on the rug, her tiny hands struggling with the oversized pieces of a wood puzzle. She screwed up her face as her fat, little fingers worked the brightly colored pieces, her pink tongue coming out as she worked.
He steepled his hands and watched, fascinated. It had been so long since he’d had a child in the house.
Way too long.
It was nice.
The petite Hispanic woman sitting next to the girl spoke softly, moving pieces closer and congratulating her enthusiastically when she managed to fit one into place. Her brown gaze flitted to him every few seconds, dark with hostility. She only occasionally looked at the man with the rifle who stood over them. She didn’t seem bothered by their own, personal guard. Maybe because he was Hispanic too. He’d caught the t
