Page 79 of Callan

The only thing I can think of is that one of Carmen’s guests got lost and pulled up in front of my apartment by mistake.

But that’s the thing.My place is quiet, and the first knock on the door was silent, too.

So, I doubt it’s one of her people.

I move to the door before rising on my toes and unlocking the door at the same time, guided by instinct more than a rational thought.

The door pushes toward me, and I fall backward when Callan’s musky scent drapes over me, and his arm curls around me to catch me.

He pushes inside and closes the door just as erratic footfalls echo outside.

“What’s going––”

His hand glides over my mouth while he silently shushes me. Just as quietly, he locks the door.

I can’t hear the lock clicking, and I’m right in front of him, let alone the people outside.

His coat is draped over the arm holding me steady against his chest.

The feeling of being wrapped in the warmth of his body gets to my head, making me conjure images of us in different circumstances.

Not appropriate. And not safe.

On a different note, I can’t say I haven’t noticed that he has left the party earlier than planned, maybe in a rush and not on good terms with the hostess or whoever patrols the floor outside.

Quietly, I watch a smile flood his eyes as he lifts his hand to me and runs his fingers down my cheek, brushing a strand of soft, flower-scented hair away.

His focus is somewhat on the men outside.He seems darkly amused, yet tense, but not frightened.

Just entertained.

The footsteps make a U-turn and rush to the exit, sliding past my door when a voice booms outside.

“He’s not here.”

He flicks his head toward the door, listening attentively.

He’s not here?

As in Callan?

Two men exchange words in front of my door before moving swiftly to the stairwell.

My eyebrows are still lifted when Callan turns his eyes to me, peels his arm away from my waist, and straightens.

Calmly, he drapes his coat over his shoulders like he’s about to leave.

“What was that?” I murmur.

His eyes push down.

“Are you going out or something?” he tosses back at me, ignoring my question.

I take a step back as if the space surrounding me could give me some protection.

“I was thinking to do that… Yeah,” I say evenly, anticipating a reaction.

“Where were you planning to go?” he asks, the remnants of a smile glowing between his lashes.

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