His eyes brighten as he leans over the counter. “Celebrity, right? Tell me who it is. I can keep a secret,” he says with a wink.
Another laugh leaves me. “Actually, one of them lives in Building A.”
“Oh, that’s convenient for you,” he says.
Because I moved into Building B four months earlier.
“Yeah, speaking of, I need maintenance’s number. She’s having some trouble with her locks, and I was hoping to get them changed,” I tell him.
“Yeah, sure, which apartment? I can send him up,” he says, turning to his computer.
“Ah, 37B,” I answer.
He stops typing, eyes widening at me. “Your client is—” He pauses and leans closer to the counter. “—Young Decay?!”
The words are a hiss under his breath as if he knows the mention might make a few people in the waiting area turn their heads.
I scoff and stuff my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. “Maybe,” I answer, winking.
He presses his lips together and gestures as if he’s zipping them closed. “Not a word,” he tells me. “Okay, I have orders in to Frank for a change in locks on 37B. I also listed your number as the contact person. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect.”
He turns back to me, squinting slightly. “Is there anything I need to tell our front door guard to be aware of? Creepers trying to get to her?Pleasetell me there is juicy stalker gossip,” he says eagerly.
I laugh. “It’s nothing I can’t take care of.” I tap the countertop twice and push off. “Thanks, Hinson.”
“Anytime!” he says as I head for the elevator.
A man exits the lift as I slip onto it, and he’s gone before I can get a glimpse of his face. His hood is up, sunglasses on—probably another Hollywood figure as there are a few who live in the buildings.
Bonnie’s place is second to last at the end of the hall on her floor. There are two boxes sitting outside the last door, presumably last-minute boxes for the new tenant. I stare at them for a beat, considering whether to be nosy. Before I can lose my nerve, I pad to them. The top one haskitchenwritten on it, but it’s taped up too tight to snoop through without it being obvious.Dammit. Maybe I can convince Hinson to spill the details about them when I go back down.
The key I have for Bonnie’s apartment is still shiny and new, the copy made one night when she left the door unlocked to get in the shower just a few months ago—before she knew I was back.
The smell of lemon sugar hits me upon opening the door. It’s always smelled like this in her apartments, so much so that any time I smell the scent in public, I’m transported to the dark corner of her room, watching over her from the shadows.
My phone rings as I reach her bedroom.
“Go for Gem,” I answer.
“Look at you snooping without the mask,” Kade says on the line. “Such a risk taker now that you’re the big boss.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter as I realize he’s more than likely seen me on a camera that I have hidden around the place. “Didn’t I give you enough things to do instead of watching my girlfriend’s apartment?”
“Oh, she’s your girlfriend now?” he teases.
I slide my finger across the countertop, taking in the sight of the clothes Bonnie has strewn across the place. “What’s up?”
“I have updates on the shit you asked me to look into,” Kade says.
“Which part?” I ask, knowing there were several groups, message boards, keyboard warriors, groupies, and even dating information I asked him to check out.
“The Cupid’s Arrow info,” he says. “Turns out their security kind of sucks.”
“Like it actually sucks or you’re just good enough to infiltrate them?” I ask, because he’s a damn criminal genius when it comes to that kind of thing.
Criminal in the literal sense… He was just released from prison six months ago after a four-year sentence for hacking.
