“Hush, girl,” Wes admonished, closing the door behind them. Nathan heard him lock it, as well. The dog didn’t listen—she sniffed at Nathan’s ankles and barked again, louder this time.
“Hey girl,” Nathan said, sinking to his knees. He held out one hand and smiled as the dog’s wet nose tickled along his palm. With his other hand he began to stroke the glossy hair behind her ears. “What’s your name?”
“José Cuervo,” Wes told him.
“What?” Nathan laughed. “You named the dog—”
“Roger did.” Wes crossed the narrow hallway and checked the answering machine. There were no messages. “At least he hasn’t called.”
Nathan buried his nose in the dog’s curly hair. “You thought he would?”
With a shrug, Wes admitted, “Maybe. He called earlier. Sometimes when I don’t call him back right away he tri
