Best Man for the Job

Looking at him, staring into those hard, slate-gray eyes, Eryn believed him—but only for a moment. The bottom line was that Daniel Steadman had been taken by professionals. Callan had acknowledged that himself. But she knew he was going to try to get Daniel back.

She also knew that he wasn’t going to ask her for help. Once he got his hands on the images, he’d take up the hunt by himself. Getting around Las Vegas was hard. “When was the last time you were in Vegas?”

He smiled a little. “First time.”

And navigating the city if he hadn’t been here before was going to be next to impossible. The sirens closed in as Eryn stared at him and considered what he was proposing to do. “You can’t do this by yourself. Not in a city you don’t know.”

“My kid sister loves this guy. I’m not going to sit this one out while he gets flushed down the toilet because of bureaucracy.” Callan took a quick breath. “The men who took him knew who I was. Inside that room, they had a guy on me. They figured if there was any trouble coming, I was the guy going to give it.”

Thinking of the way Callan had rushed at the van despite the gunners, Eryn silently agreed. He was trouble.

“Those guys had an inside person.” Callan went on in a calm voice. “If it wasn’t you—”

“It wasn’t.” Eryn glared at him.

Callan ignored her response. “—then it’s someone else. If it’s someone else, then that person is going to be in the middle of the police and FBI investigation. They’re going to know every move the police and the FBI make. That’ll get Daniel killed. This is about money. They’re going to have to move quickly.”

“You don’t know this is about money.”

He flicked a narrow-eyed glance at her. “Daniel’s heir to a pharmaceutical empire. This is about money.”

“Whoever took him could have taken him for leverage.”

That caught his attention. “What do you mean?”

“Corporate buyout. Corporate merger. Research and development. A play for contracts. Revenge. You can’t narrow your focus like that.” Eryn couldn’t believe so many possibilities presented themselves to her so quickly.

Callan’s suspicion returned. “How do you know all this?”

“This is Vegas. People who come here are high rollers. Corporate executives who like to play hard but never stray far from the business field. You get to that level, it’s all about action. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the boardroom, on Wall Street or on the tables. They have to get their juice.”

“Doesn’t matter what this is about. I’m going to get Daniel back. Whoever sold him out is going to be in a position to look over the shoulders of the law enforcement people.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Although she wanted to believe that someone inside the group of partygoers colluding with the kidnappers was simply conspiracy paranoia, Eryn knew it was likely true. She’d seen the man assigned to Callan. He’d gone straight to Callan and hadn’t hesitated to shove his pistol into the back of Callan’s neck.

“Getting Daniel back safely is going to take someone from outside law enforcement. Someone moving quickly.” Callan paused, then his voice turned cold. “And someone who won’t hold back when the time comes.”

“What do you mean?”

Before Callan could respond, if he was going to, the fire escape door exploded open and a group of hotel security guards pushed into the parking garage brandishing weapons. They fanned out immediately, one stopping by the body on the ground and took up positions as the first LVPD police car screeched to a stop in front of them. The red and blue lights whirled over the immediate scene, painting it in garish shadows.

Callan wrapped his jacket around Eryn’s shoulders and herded her toward the stairwell at the other end of the parking garage. “I need those pictures. After that, you’re out of this. I promise. You can do whatever you want. But I have to help Jenny. I promised.”

The forceful emotion in his words carried pain and concern. Eryn was surprised to hear it, but in the end that was what decided her. She nodded and went with him, skirting parked cars and staying in the darkness.

Callan took the lead up the stairwell and shielded the woman with his body. He pushed hard, and this time he realized she was in heels. Her ability to keep up surprised him. Three hotel security guards came down and stopped them on the stairs.

One of the security men pushed a hand against Callan’s broad chest. Callan barely managed to quell the reflex to break the man’s fingers and chop him in the throat. “Who are you?”

Before Callan could respond, the woman peered around his shoulder. “It’s crazy out there. Guys with guns. Looked like some kind of drive-by. I think they’re still out there. It’s a good thing you guys got here. You should be able to catch them.”

The cacophony of car alarms echoed into the stairwell as the door below opened again.

The security guard shifted his attention to the woman. “Did you see who they were?”

“No. We were just getting into our car when it started. I told George we were safer inside the hotel.”

“You’re probably right. I need your names.”

“Darbinson. Room twenty-two fourteen. George and Kelli. We’re still checked in. We were going out for dinner until all that happened.”

The security guard nodded. “You folks get to your room. Someone will probably be along to talk to you.”

“Okay, thanks. You guys be careful.” Eryn flashed them a smile.

Callan was surprised by how quickly the woman had defused the situation by shifting the security guards from interrogators to protectors and potential heroes. But the ease that she accomplished that also strengthened his ebbing suspicions. She was too quick, too ready with a lie. A normal person off the street didn’t lie like that.

But the security guards went on their way.

She looked up at him, obviously expecting some acknowledgement of her feat.

“Take off your shoes.”

An angry frown tightened her blue-green eyes. “What?”

“Your shoes. Take them off. It’s a wonder you haven’t broken your neck.”

“I don’t need to—”

Kneeling quickly, Callan grabbed one of her toned calves and lifted her foot from the ground. She stumbled and almost lost her balance. He was too aware of the warm flesh in his hand and his chest suddenly felt too tight. The contact was electric and he wanted to skate his fingers along her calf some more. Instead, he cupped her raised foot with his other hand and stripped the shoe. “Don’t—”

Shifting legs, trying to keep the feel of her from his mind, Callan pulled off the other shoe, leaving it on the ground by the other. He stood and faced her glare. “Things are going to happen fast now. If I have to run, I want you able to keep up with me.”

“I can keep up with you. I could have done it in heels, too.” Her jaw jutted angrily.

Seeing the competitive, daring gleam in her eyes almost made Callan laugh. Under other circumstances he would have. Instead, he gripped her by the arm and pulled her toward the next flight of stairs.

She squirmed in his grip, twisted her wrist toward his thumb the way most martial arts taught someone to counter a hold, and broke free. For a moment Callan thought she was going to try to run. To his surprise, she reached down and hooked her fingers through the straps of the heels.

She held them up to display. “Manolo Blahniks. You don’t leave Manolo Blahniks behind. Now let’s go.” She dashed past him, easily taking the steps three at a time.

She was fast. Callan realized that by the time he hit the top of the stairs. In the tight confines of the stairwell, she was pulling ahead of him because his size and weight worked against him. Muscle became a burden in the tight turns. In a straightaway run he felt he could have beaten her. Or at least kept up. He was also aware of her only inches in front of his face. The glimpses of red silk beneath his jacket threatened to drive him crazy.

Focus, Callan. He took in a deep breath and pushed it out, turning his thoughts to Daniel Steadman and Jenny. Callan knew he would have to talk to his sister and he was dreading that conversation.