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 fo
r 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?
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 s
ay.”
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.
Abducted Heart (Z-Series) Page 2