Haze of Obedience (Behind Closed Doors #3) - Maggie Cole Page 0,68

photos and finally decides on the third one he took.

I yank the camera out of his hands and delete the other ones.

"Watch it, son. I know you're Tinker's friend, but don't disrespect me in my house."

"Don't—"

Zoe steps between us. "Thank you for your hospitality. Is there anything you would like me to autograph?"

Silence.

"My granddaughters would love an autograph. I have seven of them."

Zoe smiles. "Why don't you go get seven things, and I'll sign them with personalized messages."

"That would be very sweet of you, Ms. Diego."

"Call me, Zoe."

"Zoe." He touches her shoulder when he passes, and I hold myself back from twisting his arm and putting him into a headlock.

I spin Zoe into me. "You shouldn't be leaving any evidence you were here."

"We will tell him to wait a few months before giving them to his family."

"He's not going to wait."

"He's Tinker's friend. We're trusting him to get us passports. There's no difference."

"I don't—"

"I'll wait. You have my word," Clayton barks from behind me.

I turn.

His hands are full of old CD cases. He scowls at me then smiles at Zoe. "Would you mind signing eight? I think my grandson will want one too."

"Sure."

He sets the items on the coffee table and hands Zoe a marker. They go back and forth over names, and she spends fifteen minutes asking him their ages and writing personalized messages to each of his grandchildren.

When she finishes, he says, "There's a spare room if you want to crash for the night."

"We have a mattress in the van. If we can stay in your driveway, that would be appreciated," I rush to say.

He shrugs. "Suite yourself. The bathroom is available if you need it."

Zoe rises. "I'll take you up on that."

He points out where it's located, and she leaves the room.

"How many days will it take to get the passports?"

"Twenty four hours typically. I'll get it done first thing tomorrow morning. My eyes don't work as good at night."

"Thank you."

"You need to calm down, son. Zoe Diego is a superstar. You can't expect her to be in a room and not have others pay attention to her."

My anger builds once more. "I know who she is. Why don't you keep your advice to yourself."

He holds his hands in the air. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Zoe comes out, and we leave. As soon as we get in the van, I lock the doors. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. He's like lots of fans. It's not a big deal."

"You shouldn't be giving your autograph out."

She sighs. "I was trying to be nice."

"It's not safe."

"Fine. I won't do it again. Sorry." She looks at the mattress.

Don't get into a fight over him.

I slide down and pull her with me. "No, I'm sorry. Let's just get some sleep, and hopefully, we can get our passports and out of here tomorrow. Bermuda is calling our names."

"Okay."

She sleeps in my arms all night. I get little, not fully trusting Clayton and reminding myself that Tinker wouldn't have sent me here if he wasn't reliable.

When morning comes, we step out of the van when a car skids into the driveway next to us, and two men get out.

Zoe's eyes widen, and I try to hide her, but it's no use. Besides her orange hair, there's nothing to disguise her.

"Look what we got here. Zoe Diego," one of the men yells. His black hair touches his shoulders, and he has two scars on his cheek.

"I thought you died you've been out of the spotlight for so long," the other man says. He's in a black tank top with a gold chain. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail, and his teeth are crooked.

I try to come up with the right reply, but I pause too long, and my delivery comes out flat.

"She's not Zoe Diego. She just looks like her."

"Nice try." The other man steps forward.

I step in front of Zoe and feel her shake against me.

My guns in my bag. Shit. Why did I leave it in the van?

"Clayton," I holler.

"Why are you calling for him? We just want a look at the famous superstar." He comes closer.

"Clayton," I scream again.

He moves closer, and I push Zoe further behind me while keeping my eyes locked on his. "Get in the van."

The sound of the door slamming hits my ears. As soon as it does, I step toward him. "It's best you get out of here and don't speak of this."

"Or what?" he seethes.

Where is Clayton? Why isn't he coming out here?

My gun

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