Abducted Heart (Z-Series) (3 page)

From the look Lynch got, she'd taken it as such.

“I'm the events coordinator at the Regency Hotel downtown.”

But had she earned that position on her own, or had Daddy had some influence? Daniel Wheaton had tried to control every aspect of Casey's life. The man had done everything he could to break her and Lynch up in the year the two had been together, especially after learning about his father—a convicted felon killed in prison.

To not follow in his criminal footsteps, Lynch had joined the service, thinking Casey would wait for him to finish boot camp. Then they'd get married, and she'd live in Virginia with him.

Instead, he got the goodbye letter—the hardest thing to take at the roughest time in his life. But the event had strengthened his resolve, and Lynch had promised himself never to let another woman hurt him. So far he'd held true to that oath.

*

Casey answered Lynch's questions, still angry that he'd insinuated she was too hoity-toity to have a career. She knew that's what he’d meant—though he hadn't actually said it.

She'd worked hard to get to where she was, all on her own, with no help from her father or anyone else. But Lynch would never believe that.

“Did you two work for any charities that you'd given a large chunk of money to in the past year?” He drew her back to his questioning.

“Yes, a few. Why?”

“Seems a logical place to look. What are the ones you're affiliated with?”

“The March of Dimes and the Make-A-Wish foundation.”

His eyes narrowed.

Casey glanced toward the window. This conversation was making her extremely uncomfortable.

“You and Brent don't have children. Is there a reason why you chose those?”

“How did you know we didn't have kids?”

“My mother. She keeps tabs on Brent. She and his father weren't married long, but she still cares for them both.”

“Brent once said you were jealous of him since he came from a wealthy background and you didn't.”

His stormy-gray eyes darkened. “I believe it was the other way around. Brent was envious of me. Though why, only he knows.”

The contempt in his voice confused Casey. “Are you saying you never liked Brent? Why come home to find him then?”

He shook his head. “Look, we're wasting time. I need to get as much information as I can before you have to deliver the ransom tomorrow night. Let's stick to only pertinent questions and answers.”

Lynch was right. They were running out of time. Casey needed to focus. “What was the last question?”

“Charities. Those are the only two?”

“The ones we, as a couple, are involved with, yes. I do help my father with a few of his.”

“Let's stick to you and Brent for now. If we don't find anything there, we'll turn to your father.”

“Okay.” Casey handed Lynch a mug of coffee. She poured herself a cup and went to sit at the kitchen table and signaled for him to take the seat across from her. This was going to be a long night, especially with Lynch in the same room after a ten year absence. Simply his presence had her heart racing and her body's temperature going haywire.

“How are your finances?” he asked.

Her gaze shot back to him. “Fine. Why would you ask that?” she snapped.

“Calm down, Casey. I'm covering all bases. I need to know every angle—every possibility. Speaking of money. Were you able to get that from your father?”

Casey nodded. “He knows something's wrong, but I didn't tell him what the money was for. He would have insisted on taking care of everything, and Brent would end up dead. Daddy doesn't like him very much.”

“Why? You'd think he'd find him more acceptable than he had me,” he shot back, a smug look on his face.

“Look, Lynch, I don't want to talk about Daddy. I want Brent home alive. You have to see that that happens.”

“I'll do the best I can. How about your neighbors? Anyone seem especially observant? Interested in you or Brent's routine?”

Mrs. Cramer popped into her head. “The lady to the left of us is always watching everyone. But it can't be her. She's just a big gossip.”

“Okay, but she might be able to tell me if anyone strange has been hanging around. I'll talk to her once we finish up here.”

“I doubt she'd open up. She's pretty leery of people she doesn't know. Besides, if you talk to her, she'll tell two friends, and next thing you know, everyone in New Orleans will know Brent was kidnapped.”

“Since she's a woman, talking to her won't be a problem. Trust me. When I finish with her, our discussion will be the last thing on her mind.”

Boy, did he have a high opinion of himself. Although Casey had to admit, he was the best looking man she'd ever seen, with a body that went way beyond average. His large shoulders fit snugly into a pale blue shirt, and from the taut muscles beneath, you could tell he had to work out almost every day.

Sweat beaded on Casey's upper lip.

Maybe Marian would tell him everything, and possibly even flirt with him since she'd been a widow for a long time now.

Acid worked its way into her throat.

Why did the idea cause such a reaction in her stomach? She had no claim on Lynch. Ten years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. He was free to do whatever or
whoever
he wanted, and she had nothing to say about it, no matter how much she might want to.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lynch rang the doorbell to Casey's neighbor's house, then took a step back, determined that he’d charm the woman's pants off if need be to attain the information he sought. Nothing was too much to ask in his line of work. The nation depended on him to be willing to give his life or body to retrieve intelligence. In this case, it wasn't for his country, yet he'd still do whatever it took to find out who abducted Brent. Not for the man himself, but for Brent's father since Lynch respected him.

And, because of Casey.

The door rattled on the inside and slowly opened.

The lady standing partially behind the green door had to be in her late forties, early fifties. As she studied him, her pupils dilated.

Good
.

That meant she liked what she saw and that would work to his advantage—at least it had up until now.

“Can I help you?”

“Marian, right? I'm Brent's brother. He lives next door. I was wondering if I could come in and talk to you for a moment.” He gave her
the smile
—a white-toothed grin that usually won him the admiration of every female around. “I know what you're thinking, no lady in her right mind would allow a complete stranger into her home. Stupid move, right? I totally get that. But I hope you'll trust me anyway. Casey wanted to come, but I told her not to worry. That you'd understand how important this was and willingly talk to me.”

“What do you need?” The woman watched him like he symbolized a piece of decadent chocolate and she was struggling to stick to her diet.

He could work with that.

“Casey mentioned that you'd be the one to come to, to find out if anyone unusual has been hanging around the neighborhood.”

Her amber eyes grew huge. “Why?”

“Brent and Casey's home has been broken in to.”

She snorted. “It's all that Theresa Flynn's fault. She's single, you know. She lets every man she's attracted to inside the gates without checking with us first. I'll be bringing this up at the next charter meeting. She should be sent packing and will be, if I have any say.”

Lynch knew all too well how the rich treated people who didn't fit into their lifestyle. He'd seen it in his own mother's life. She never did quite measure up, no matter how hard she tried.

He himself had rebelled against the snobs. Lynch didn't care what anyone thought of him—especially Casey's father. Since the day they'd met, Daniel Wheaton had taken him aside and told him in no uncertain terms to move on. That Lynch wasn't welcome in his home, let alone
inside
his daughter.

Marian opened the door wide. “Please, come in and tell me what happened.”

Lynch walked into the foyer and glanced around. The house was similar to Casey's, down to the decor.

The woman closed the door, and then led him to the living room. “Take a seat. Could I get you something? Some tea perhaps?”

“No, thanks.” Lynch sat on an overstuffed beige chair. She took a seat on the matching sofa across from him, her posture rigid.

“Have you seen anything out of the ordinary in the past few weeks? Anyone you didn't recognize?”

“Like I said, Theresa has men coming and going at all hours of the night. She should have never been allowed to live here.”

“Where is her house located?”

“The third on the left from the gatehouse. She has an ugly topiary in front. Just hideous. The woman has no class.” Marian sniffed loud enough for him to get her point. Clearly, she thought she was better than this woman.

“And you can see all of this coming and going from here?”

She shook her head. “Viola tells me. She lives directly across from her.”

Two women who had nothing better to do than gossip. Lynch forced down his contempt. His mother fell victim to a pair of hags who had it out for her from day one. Cost her her marriage.

“How come Casey never said anything to me about this home invasion?”

“She didn't want to worry you.”

The woman smiled. “Such a sweet girl. Thinking of me at a time like this. What was stolen?”

“She's still taking inventory.”

“How did they get in? I told her she needed to get a protective service. I have one, and I haven't had any problems.”

“I'll talk to her and Brent about that.”

“Good.”

“So you or Viola haven't seen anyone near Casey and Brent's house?”

“I don't believe so. Although, the Neals are renovating their home. They have a construction crew in and out during the day. Maybe it was one of those guys? They are all supposed to be bonded, but you know the type.”

Yeah, he did. Hard working, blue collar Americans. The people he grew up around. All trying to have a life like everyone else.

“Where do the Neals live?”

“A few houses down. You know, I've never seen you at Brent and Casey's. You said you're his brother? Yet the two of you look nothing alike.” Her eyes narrowed, and she twisted her hands in her lap.

“Sorry, step-brother. My mother married his father.”

She released a breath. “Oh, but then why haven't I seen you around? You're definitely not a man I'd forget.”

“I hope that was meant as a compliment. But to answer your question, I don't currently live here in New Orleans. Haven't for ten years.”

His answer seemed to pacify her, with the strain around her lips easing.

“Are you sure I can't get you something to drink, some wine maybe?” The spark of interest in her eyes had Lynch thinking it was time to go. He'd gotten the information he came for.

“No.” Lynch rose. “I've taken up enough of your time. Thanks for speaking with me.”

A look of disappointment crossed her features, then quickly disappeared. She got up and led him to the door.

“Can I ask a huge favor of you, Marian?” Lynch asked in a tone that always worked to get what he wanted.

She looked at him and swallowed. “S...ure. What do you need?”

He'd hit his mark.

“Could we keep this conversation between us for now? I want to catch this guy and I think a buzz in the neighborhood could scare him off.”

“Of course. My lips are sealed.”

Lynch winked at her, then opened the door and left.

She'd given him two leads to follow up on. The Neals' construction crew and the neighborhood's morally corrupt woman, Theresa Flynn, a voluptuous redhead who had allowed him in early that evening. His kind of gal. Between both, he hoped he'd find something to lead him to Brent. But first thing in the morning, he was going downtown to his ex-step-brother's place of business to find out if the man was involved in anything that could have gotten him kidnapped.

*

Casey's eyes flew open. A noise had startled her awake. She pulled herself up against the headboard and listened, thinking after a few moments she'd been dreaming.

A squeak of a floorboard made her heart race.

Was someone in her house? Coming up the stairs.

Her mind went crazy with images of an intruder, hell-bent on taking
whatever
he wanted. Flashes of a man on top her, forcing her legs apart sent a cold chill skittering across her skin.

Casey snatched her cell phone off the nightstand and stared blankly at the face. She couldn't call 9-1-1. Not when Brent's kidnappers could be watching the house.

She scrolled down and found the number Lynch had given her before he'd left hours ago. She punched it in and waited, watching the door.

One ring.

Two.

Pick up your phone
.

Three.

Four.

A groggy voice answered.

“Lynch,” she said under her breath.

“What's wrong, Casey?”

“I think someone's in the house.”

Another creak came, and it took all Casey's reserve not to scream. This one was closer. Practically outside her bedroom door.

“Go hide. I'll be right there.”

Casey scrambled from the bed and crawled to her closet. She eased open the door. Inside, she hid behind a large suitcase, her cell phone still clutched in a vise-like grip in her hand.

How did someone get in the house?

What were they after?

Maybe it was Brent's kidnappers. Come to get the money.
Or maybe not
. Thank God the ransom was safely tucked in her office, where no one could find it.

Rattling of the knob at her bedroom door had Casey drawing in some air. What if they found her? What would they do?

Hinges squeaked. Someone was entering her room.

If Lynch didn't get here soon, she could be...

No. Don't think like that. He'll be here
.

She heard muffled steps. The person had to be standing next to the bed. The sound of the spread and sheets being torn from the mattress stopped her heart.