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was almost positive Brent was behind his own kidnapping now. That the break-in was a home invasion that was supposed to have gone bad—leaving Casey dead.
    In walks the grieving spouse to collect a million dollars with only him left to know the truth. Brilliant plan. Except his ex-step-brother hadn't counted on Casey calling Lynch. Why should she? A man she dumped all those years ago. Brent knew about everything, was there to collect her the minute he went off to boot camp.
    Asshole .
    When Lynch got his hands on Brent, he was going to kill him like he'd planned to do to Casey.
    All for money .
    Why did he need cash so badly? Did it have something to do with those wire transfers?
    “What are you thinking?” Casey’s question drew him back to her.
    No way could he tell her the truth. She'd be heartbroken. After all, this was a man who she once loved. Betrayal in the worst way.
    Lynch was furious. He'd make his step-brother pay, but first he needed to find him.
    “What was he doing, Lynch?”
    He shook his head. “I don't know. But I intend to find out. What I'm going to tell you next might upset you, Casey, but you need to listen to me. When the kidnappers call tonight, I want you to tell them you weren't able to get the money. You need to get to an account at the bank in the morning.”
    “They could kill Brent if I do that.”
    “I don't think they will. You have to trust that I know what I'm doing. This will give us some time to find out where those transactions were going.”
    She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. What are we going to do in the meantime?”
    “Right after the abductor calls, I want to go to some of Brent's hangouts. Do you know what he does when he's not at work or at home? How about friends? Could we possibly talk to them? Maybe they could give us a clue as to why he was kidnapped.”
    “Brent doesn't have any friends. That was an issue with us since I liked spending time with mine. I think he was jealous.”
    That didn't surprise Lynch. He never could get along with Brent, and he'd been forced to spend time with him.
    “How about credit card receipts? Do you have any that might lead us to where Brent spent time?”
    “They're in the office we share.” She took off down the hall and opened the door leading to a nice sized, beige colored room with all dark walnut furniture. A large wooden desk sat in front of the only window.
    Casey walked behind the desk, riffled through a handful of files, and pulled out a folder.
    She scanned the papers until she stopped on one, looking up at Lynch, her eyes wide.
    “What?”
    “I didn't know he had this credit card. He owes twenty-five thousand dollars on it.”
    Zack whistled from the doorway. “That's a chunk of cash, and you know nothing about it?”
    “No. I'm starting to wonder if I know my husband at all.”
    Casey didn't know the half of it if Lynch's suspicions were correct. He pointed to the bill. “Can I see that?”
    She handed him the paper, and he studied the charges, noting a number of them were for a place down on the French Quarter.
    That's where they were headed as soon as the kidnapper called. Lynch wanted to know what Brent spent two-hundred-fifty dollars a pop for, even if it hurt Casey to do so.

 
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
    Casey hadn't visited Bourbon Street in years, though apparently her husband had been spending plenty of time and money where that particular road met Canal. The sound of smooth jazz music let loose from a club a few doors down, and the pungent smell of alcohol and fried food had her stomach rumbling.
    She glanced at Zack, who was clearly seeing the French Quarter for the first time since his eyes were huge as he took it all in. Too bad they weren't here to enjoy themselves. They'd come to find out where Brent racked up a huge bill.
    The thought of her husband brought back the conversation she'd had with his kidnapper an hour ago—how angry the man had sounded when she'd told him she