1:04 a.m.
“WHAT’S THIS?”
“One hundred American dollars, my friend. And this is the part where you nod your head, pocket the cash, sit back, and return to whatever show you’re watching on your cell phone.”
Curt the doorman sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I really can’t do this again.”
“Again?” Cooper Lamb asked. “What, do you have total strangers handing you a hundred bucks all the time?”
Lupe, waiting patiently, let out a tiny yelp as if to underscore his master’s question.
“You’d be surprised what people offer me to let them sneak into this building. Look, brother, I need my job more than I need a hundred bucks.”
“So now we’re negotiating. Cool. Tell you what—I’m going to leave three hundred dollars with you for safekeeping. Who knows how dangerous it is up there? One of your residents might try to mug me and my dog.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And if I don’t come back down to reclaim my money, just pocket it until you see me again.”
“I’ve got an awful memory for faces.”
“Even dog faces?”
Curt the doorman tucked the money into his breast pocket without so much as another glance at Cooper, as if to prove how bad he was with faces. Cooper walked to the elevator and rode it up to the penthouse level. Thanks to Victor, he knew exactly where to go and which doorbell to ring. And hey, the lights were on.
“Come on, Lupe, let’s see if your favorite nanny is awake.”
Lupe matched Cooper’s pace the entire length of the hallway, though he did give him a side-eye glance: We really doing this? Bothering this poor lady at one o’clock in the morning?
She answered almost instantly, which both relieved and worried Cooper. Had she been expecting him? Did she catch a glimpse of him down on Eighteenth Street; was she reverse-stalking him?
“Hey, Maya,” Cooper said. “Is this a bad time?”