Best Man for the Job. Meredith Fletcher

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.

      He reached the fourth-floor landing three steps behind her. She waited for him at the door.

      “Catch your breath. They probably have hotel security in the room now. We don’t want to attract any more attention than we have to.”

      Callan wanted to argue with her and tell her that his breathing was just fine. Instead, he focused on her words. “That costume is going to draw a lot of attention.”

      “This is Vegas. A lot happens in Vegas. You can look and dress any way you want to. Just don’t act suspicious.” She frowned at him. “Why did you want to come back here?”

      “I’ve got to get my things from my room.”

      “I thought you were in a hurry.”

      “If I’m going to look for these guys, I’m going to need money. I also need to get out of these clothes, change my appearance. That’s all in my room. I’m at the end of the hall.”

      She nodded and looked at him. “Ready?”

      “Yeah. Me first. In case there’s trouble.” Callan stepped in front of her, opened the door, and passed into the hallway.

      Pulse pounding, Eryn trailed a step behind and to Callan’s right. She took advantage of his size to hide from the other people filling the hallway. Even with the coat, the devil costume marked her immediately if anyone was looking for her. She didn’t want people remembering her or, worse, pointing her out to investigators and security staff.

      The party had boiled out into the hallway. Dozens of half-drunken young men talked and gestured, replaying everything that had just happened. Their voices were loud and histrionic. Plainclothes hotel security, marked by the walkie-talkies they carried, moved among the group. The security staff took down names and secured the scene.

      Callan cut through them. He was big and broad, but he moved like a tiger. She’d been hard-pressed to gain any distance on him in the stairwell. Given his size and intensity, she thought he’d stand out immediately. But no one noticed him for more than a second, all of them consumed with their stories and the danger that had just passed. As she watched, she realized that Callan never made more than fleeting eye contact, kept a smile on his face and never broke stride, moving quickly without giving the appearance of doing so.

      He stopped at the doorway to the room where Eryn had dressed. He tried the door and found it locked. He frowned and turned to Eryn.

      Stepping past him, Eryn knocked on the door. Before she finished, the phone in her hand buzzed for attention. Out of habit, she glanced at the screen.

      The image of a beautiful woman filled the screen. She had a heart-shaped face, lavender eyes and a small mouth. Cinnamon tresses fell over her bare shoulders. She held a bright red rose in one hand that almost touched the cleft in her chin. The image was glamour shot, an expensive makeover judging from the cosmetics, color and smoky background. A name flashed underneath: Sierra.

      Eryn figured Toby was the kind to collect the phone numbers of a lot of women with one name.

      Callan peered at the screen. “That’s Toby’s sister.”

      “Oh.” Eryn felt guilty for her earlier thought when she realized Toby’s sister was probably worried and calling to check on her brother. She accepted the call. The least she could do after purloining the phone was let Toby’s sister know he was okay. “Hello.”

      “Who is this?” The feminine voice was edgy and demanding, used to wielding authority.

      “Eryn.”

      “I know three Erins. Which are you?”

      “I’m one that you don’t know.”

      “What are you doing with Toby’s phone?”

      “I borrowed it.”

      “I heard what happened at the party and I wanted to make certain Toby was all right.”

      “He’s fine.” Eryn glanced back down the hall where Toby talked loudly to a security guard. “He’s kind of busy at the minute talking to the hotel security staff.”

      “Have him call me. Soon.”

      The hotel door opened and revealed one of the guests. His eyes widened as Callan planted a big hand against the door and forced it farther open.

      “I’ll have Toby get in touch with you as soon as he’s free.” But Eryn was speaking into a dead connection. The woman had hung up. Turning her thoughts back to the moment, Eryn followed Callan into the room.

      Chapter 4

      “Hey.” The guy backpedaled into the room just ahead of Callan. “Callan Storm, right? Jenny’s brother?”

      “Yeah.” Callan surveyed the room and crossed to the bed where Eryn’s things lay.

      Eryn walked to the bed, opened her overnight bag, got her purse out and checked her cell. The images she’d sent from Toby’s phone had come through perfectly.

      “Has hotel security been in here?” Callan focused on the guy in the room.

      “No.” Guilt stained the man’s features.

      “What are you doing here?”

      Eryn smiled at that. Evidently suspicion was hardwired into Callan’s psyche, but the guy was tripping her radar as well.

      The man looked guilty. “Had to get rid of something.” He shrugged nervously. “Wasn’t anything big, but I didn’t want to take the chance. Didn’t want to get busted by the cops.”

      Eryn shook her head. Apparently not all of Daniel Steadman’s acquaintances were squeaky clean. That knowledge made her wonder about Daniel Steadman and Callan’s sister. She had to wonder just how wild they were and if an alternative lifestyle directly impacted what had happened tonight.

      Silently, she chastised herself. She had no right to judge, and the guys had shot up the parking garage and killed an innocent bystander without flinching. Not all of her acquaintances were squeaky clean, either. And her past as an exotic dancer, no matter how short, wouldn’t have cut it with her hometown in Fallon even as close as it was to Las Vegas. Her father was a carpenter and her mother was a schoolteacher. She hadn’t hidden her job from them and it had caused some stress. But she was their only child and forgiveness always came.

      No, the trouble Daniel Steadman was currently in had to be way past anything he’d expected.

      She went through her clothing, thankful the outfit she came in was practical enough. Coffee-bean-colored boot-cut stretch pants she could move in, a chestnut-colored three-quarter