Abducted Heart (Z-Series) (2 page)

Growing up, Casey saw up close and personal the kind of friends her mother had. All male and too overly affectionate to be just friends. Her father had been too busy building an empire to see that—or perhaps he had and didn't care. For all she knew, the two could have some kind of arrangement, and he might have a few female acquaintances of his own. Casey had no idea. All she could tell was her parents' marriage seemed to work for them—unlike her own.

“What did you need to speak to me about, Casey?”

Time to lie
. God, she hoped she could pull it off.

“I need to borrow some money.”

The look of satisfaction her words evoked made her almost rethink getting the cash from him.
This is to save Brent. Swallow your damn pride
.

“How much do you need?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

No reaction except for a slight tic in his jaw. “Am I allowed to ask what you need this money for?”

“So I don't lose my home.” The lie rolled off her tongue so easily that it scared her. Maybe she was more like her mother than she thought.

His eyes widened. “How did you get so far behind on your mortgage?”

“Do you seriously want me to beg, Daddy?”

“I'm just asking a question.”

Casey blew out a ragged breath. The last thing she needed right now was her father's interrogation. “Forget it. I'll get the money somewhere else.”

A look of bewilderment replaced the smug gratification. “I'll give you the loan, Casey. I'll wire the money to your account on Monday.”

“I need it today. In cash.”

His graying brows knitted together severely. “Why would you need cash? There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?”

“Please, Daddy, just give me the money.”

He studied her intently, a prominent frown indicating his concern. It made her feel bad, but the less he knew the better.

He rose and walked to where he kept his safe, popped the release on the picture covering it and turned the dial on the lock back and forth. Then he pulled the handle down and opened the door. Inside were tall stacks of money—money he'd always kept on hand for emergencies.

He glanced at her. “Do you have something to put the money in or do you need to borrow my briefcase?”

“No. I have a satchel.” She reached for the large leather tote on the seat of the chair she'd brought with her and handed it to him.

He counted out the cash, stuffed the bills inside and gave it back to her. “Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's going on?”

“No. Please leave it alone.” She took in another emotion-filled breath. “I'll tell you when I can.”

“How am I supposed to do that, Casey? You're my only daughter—one that has always insisted on doing everything on her own. This is so out of character for you to have to borrow anything, and that worries me.”

Her father was right. She couldn't deny that. This went completely against anything she'd stood for, but she had no choice. Brent's life was at stake, and she needed the money to pay his ransom.

“Everything will be all right, Daddy. But, you have to promise not to tell Mother. I don't want her worrying.”

He stared at her a moment with eyes so much like her own, then nodded. “I don't like it, but I'll do as you ask, Casey.”

“Thanks. Now, I have to go. I'll call as soon as I can.”

Casey left her father's office, feeling lousy, fighting to keep from crying. She knew he'd worry himself sick until she made that call. But there was no other way. Brent needed her to be strong and do everything the kidnappers asked, and that's what she intended to do.

*

Lynch waved for a taxi outside the Louis Armstrong Airport, a cup of PJ's specialty coffee tucked in his hand. He had to be alert and focused now that he'd landed in the Crescent City.

The midday sun struck him hard in the face and had him reaching for his shades.

First thing on the agenda, drop off his bag at his mother's and take a quick shower, then call a friend who could get hold of some firepower. He wasn't going into this mess empty-handed. Not if he wanted to get Brent out alive.

A yellow cab pulled up next to the curb, and Lynch slid in and gave the driver an address, then sat back and rested his eyes. Being in New Orleans again had the blood racing in his veins. Casey was only a few miles away, and that had him feeling vulnerable for the first time in years. Something he didn't like.

Lynch inhaled, then released the breath and glanced out the window. It was strange to be taking in the sights and sounds of the city he grew up in again—a town he refused to come back to in the last decade. His mother had been the one to suffer because of it. He regretted that now. Lynch had only seen her a handful of times in the past ten years, and that had been when she'd come to visit him in Virginia. New Orleans symbolized Casey in his eyes, and that spelled trouble for his emotional state.

But he was going to have to get past those feelings since he knew he'd be seeing her soon. There was no getting around it. Not if he wanted to find out who was behind this kidnapping. The masterminds of a plan this elaborate were always someone connected to a person who knew the abductee. Lynch needed to do some digging into Brent and Casey's life. He was sure he'd find the answer there somewhere.

As he watched the city fly by, he noted signs of Katrina all around him, from new construction, to areas that hadn't even been touched since the devastating breached levees. Some of the structures that had been under water needed to be torn down, yet were left standing. Former shells of themselves, with paint chipped away, the wood a dingy gray.

The Blackwater Agency had been a presence in New Orleans since the day after the flooding occurred—something he'd learned when he joined the prestigious operation two years ago. At the time, Lynch had been serving his country, moving up the ranks with the Navy SEALs. When Z approached him, he wasn't sure he was ready to leave the US military. After learning they worked for the nation—just in a covert capacity and how good the money was—he jumped in headfirst and had no regrets to this day.

Sure, he missed seeing his buddies on a daily basis, but living in Virginia afforded him the opportunity to see them when they were in town, which was at least every six months or so. This was the best of both worlds, and until today, he had his emotions in check. Yet, no way was he going to allow Casey to see any hurt she'd caused him. He'd act as if their split hadn't bothered him one bit since he knew she had moved on with her life without a backwards glance. He intended for her to think he'd done the same, even if that was the farthest thing from the truth.

*

Casey stared out her bedroom window, rubbing at the goose bumps on her arms. Every time she heard a car door slam, her heart rate sped up and her nerve endings charged. She assumed Lynch had arrived in town and would show up soon, and that had her on edge.

It was hard to believe it'd been ten years since she watched him catch that flight for boot camp. Now that she knew she'd be seeing him again, that time slipped away, almost like it was yesterday.

Had he changed any? Did he even resemble the man she fell in love with?

When the two separated, they'd both been nineteen. He'd been her
first
and probably why she glorified the relationship so much. Wasn't that how every woman felt about the man she'd lost her virginity to?

Hell, she should hate him—walking away like he had. Leaving her to join the fight against terrorism. Miles and miles away from New Orleans. Away from her.

Casey swallowed past the lump in her throat. She couldn't let those feelings engulf her again. She had Brent to think about. Not the past and the pain she'd endured.

The buzz of the doorbell gave her a start.

Lynch
? Her heart went crazy at the prospect.

On rubbery limbs, she left her room and took the stairs down to the foyer, trying to prepare herself in case
it was
him.

At the front door, she hesitated. Somehow she had to remain cool and in control. Lynch was here to save Brent, not bring back a magical time in Casey's life.

Her fingers shook when they made contact with the gold-plated knob.

Time played out in slow motion as she pulled the door open.

The man standing on her stoop made the air literally whoosh from her lungs. Casey gripped the wall to keep from losing her balance.

It was him, except it wasn't. This Lynch Rendell was much larger than the one she remembered—far more attractive than any man had a right to be. His hair was still black as a moonless night, his eyes the color of a Louisiana storm cloud, yet his features had turned hard and chiseled to movie-star perfection.

Casey clamped her jaw together to keep her mouth from dropping open.

If he smiled, would he still have those dimples that made her weak in the knees?

The longer she stared, the stronger the look of indifference he gave. Not unlike when he walked away from her all those years ago and never looked back.

CHAPTER THREE

Lynch learned long ago how to emote a stone-cold expression when faced with an adversary. But seeing Casey again made that harder than he ever dreamed.

The woman at the door would stand-out in a crowd of beautiful women—
stunning
, a pale comparison to describing her. Her long, wavy hair had deepened to a rich chestnut-brown and shimmered with golden highlights that framed a face that could turn a eunuch's head. Her slim, feminine body exuded raw sexuality, even in the basic white blouse and black cuffed trousers.

Lynch remembered quite vividly that body of hers, naked, glistening with perspiration as they made love in the bed of his beat-up truck on a hot summer night.
Poor boy
from the wrong side of town fucks
rich girl
trying to defy her daddy.

The memory alone had heat surging through his bloodstream, radiating up the back of his blue, button-down shirt, causing him to sweat. He cursed under his breath, angry she still managed to get under his skin after all this time.

She glanced past him to the driveway. “Where are you parked?”

Why did she look as if she hoped no one had seen him?

Lynch barged past Casey into the house and was instantly struck by the intoxicating scent floating in the air around her, a sweet, powdery fragrance that sent his groin to full alert.

He took a ragged breath and mentally counted to ten. “Close the door. I'm sure the kidnappers are keeping an eye on this place.”

She did as he asked, then turned to face him, her gaze darting around the room, refusing to connect with his.

Was she embarrassed about how she'd ended things with him, or was she just too good to look him in the eye?

What did it matter? He hadn't come to reminisce. He was here to learn as much as he could about her and Brent's life together so he could discover who abducted him. Then he'd leave and never lay eyes on her again.

“I'm going to need for you to tell me everything you and Brent are involved with. Where you both work. Your friends. Anything that could help in locating him.”

“All right.” She sighed. “Let's go to the kitchen, and I'll make coffee. This may take a while.”

“Great.”

As they made their way down the hall, Lynch forced his attention from Casey's perfectly-rounded backside and instead marveled at the interior of the house. Everything tastefully done in muted colors and dark walnut furnishings. Totally different than the stark black and white decor and retro chrome he shared in his place with Zack and JT.

His ex-step-brother and wife had clearly done well for themselves. That much was obvious the minute he pulled up to her address. The two lived in an affluent part of the city, in a gated community, making him wonder how the kidnappers followed Brent's comings and goings. Unless it was someone who lived there—or had friends or family who did. He'd explore that possibility later.

Lynch had been lucky a woman stood at the entrance gate, and he'd been able to charm her into letting him in. Then again, Casey could have let her know ahead of time that she was expecting someone. He'd need to ask her about that later.

While Casey was busy making coffee, it gave him a chance to study her profile. Her face had matured in the years they'd been apart, but there were elements that hadn't changed. She still had the most incredible eyes he'd ever seen—a striking blue-violet that had drawn him in two seconds after meeting her.

She had been to his side of town to anger her father. Although, when they'd met, Casey had told him she'd come to check out the kind of music Club Bayou featured. Brave for a girl all alone. He'd liked that about her, even though it was stupid—and dangerous.

Hell, Lynch had only been working there two weeks when she stepped inside the bar. She could have had any guy in the place, but for whatever reason, she left with him.

He wished she hadn't.

“Okay, so what do you need to know?” Her inquiry ripped him from the past.

Lynch pulled a small notebook out of the back pocket of his jeans and opened it to the page of questions he'd worked up on the plane.

“Where does Brent work?” That was his first stop if he could get in to see them on a Sunday. If he couldn't, he'd do a check of everyone who lived in Casey's community. Something could be there.

“He works for Sterns and Cromwell as one of their in-house accountants.”

So much for going that direction. A company like that would hardly be open on the Sabbath.
Unless it's crunch time—tax season. Which it is
.

“How long has he worked there?”

“Almost five years. He had just started when we were married.”

That bit of news had hit Lynch especially hard. The only woman he'd ever loved marrying his ex-step-brother, something he'd learned from his mother on one of her trips to see him.

“How about you? Do you work?” Did that sound condescending? Had he secretly wanted it to?