with that. It's a British Overseas Territory," Penelope says.
He puts his arm around her back. "Tell me where it is safe, and I'll take you."
She covers her face and shakes her head. "I don't know. But it doesn't even matter. I need to find my daughter."
Zoe takes her hand and squeezes it.
The hairs on my arm stand up. "You have a daughter?" I ask, shocked I didn't know this fact.
"Yes."
"She's missing?"
Zoe quietly says, "Santiago kidnapped them both then took her away."
"Do you know what country she is in?"
Tears fall down Penelope's face. "No. I know nothing. She was with me for two weeks, then they just came into the room and took her."
"The same room you talked about?" I ask Zoe.
She nods.
"Where was it?"
"Santiago's compound in Colombia, I believe."
"Could she still be in Colombia?"
Penelope wipes her face. "I don't think she is. After they took her, I could feel her getting further and further away from me. And I keep having dreams of her in snow."
"Snow?"
She sniffles. "Mm-hmm."
"She could be in the mountains then."
"Or far away from here," Penelope rises. "Sorry I need some air." She steps out the back door, and Axel follows her.
"What kind of sick bastard takes a child away from their mother," Tinker barks.
"Santiago," Zoe replies and shudders.
I still don't know what he did to her, or Penelope, or any of the other women, but if I ever see him again, he's dead.
Tinker sits and points. "Eat your food, and let's figure out your passport situation."
Zoe picks up her fork and plays with her tamale. "Can you get colored contacts?"
"Honey, I can get anything I want. By the way, I'm a big fan of yours."
"Thank you. Do you speak Spanish?"
"Not very well, but you have the voice of an angel."
"Thank you. Didn't take you as a Latin music fan."
"Honestly, when I got to Honduras, I heard your song on the radio. I already knew the words since Dirk's obsessed with you and wouldn't play anything other than your music. Any free moment we had in our room, he had your songs on. Of course, that included staring at your pictures too."
He didn't.
"Shut up, Tinker."
Zoe tries to hide her smile. "Really? Should I be concerned?"
"I would be. He used to compare his dates to you."
"Tinker! Stop making crap up."
Okay, maybe he isn't.
But that was only in my mind.
He doesn't know that.
He always has to stir the pot.
"The other women never stood a chance," he continues.
I put my fork down and scowl at Tinker.
Zoe puts her hand on my thigh and clears her throat. "So not to change the subject, but what about your people...how well do you know them?"
Tinker's face turns solemn. "They're former Marine buddies of mine. You don't need to worry about them."
Zoe lets out a big breath.
I put a forkful of tamale up to her mouth. "Eat."
She takes a bite, and I put more in my mouth wishing I could shove something in Tinker's.
Zoe swallows and takes a sip of water. "I've worn green contacts and a long, bright red wig before as a disguise. If you aren't expecting me, you wouldn't know who I am. Could you get hair dye and a hairpiece I could clip in just for border patrol?"
"Yep. You'll have to stay an extra day or so. The passport picture needs to be spot on."
"We can do that,” I assure him.
Axel and Penelope come back in. Axel says, "It's getting late. We're going to get some sleep."
"Get some rest," I say.
Zoe rises and hugs Penelope. Unspoken words pass between them, and they leave the room.
Zoe sits back down and frowns.
"Eat your dinner. We can't do anything about it right now."
"Yes, boss." She salutes me.
I snort. "It's a sin to waste these tamales."
Tinker's cell rings. "That's my passport guy." He answers it and leaves the room.
We eat in silence for several moments until Zoe winces.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Zoe, don't lie."
She sighs. "Sorry."
"It's okay. Tell me what's going on."
"My arm is throbbing and feels hot, but I want to itch it."
"I can put some more cream on it."
She shuts her eyes and nods.
I put my fork down. "Let's go upstairs."
She glances at my plate. "You haven't finished."
"Your arm is more important."
"No. Eat. Finish, and then we will go."
"It's okay. We will—"
"Do you like my tamales, or was that a lie?"
"I love your tamales. My grandmother would love your tamales. All of Mexico would love your tamales."
She softly laughs. "Then eat."
"You're in pain."
Her face falls. "I'll deal. It's important to me that you have a