Heiress Recon

by Carla Cassidy

  She took a sip of the coffee. “Ah, we’re back to the same thing. You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly don’t know anything about my character. I’m beginning to find you a bore, repo man.”

  “I know everything I need to know about you, Bree.” He emphasized the name the press had given her.

  She took another sip of coffee and eyed him over the rim of her cup. She found his instantaneous, obvious dislike of who he thought she was to be both intriguing and irritating.

  She drained her coffee mug and stood, deciding that a shower and getting dressed for the day might make her feel better prepared to take on the next four days.

  “I’m going to shower.” She walked halfway across the room, then turned back and smiled at him. “I like my eggs scrambled,” she said, then disappeared into the bathroom.

  If he expected her to be a spoiled brat, then she could act like one. Minutes later she stood beneath a tepid spray of water, her mind flying over the events of the last couple of days.

  She knew why it was so easy to exchange verbal insults with Troy; it kept her mind off the fact that her life had become horribly surreal since Curt had been stabbed. There was no question that the knife had been meant for her, that if Curt hadn’t acted quickly and taken the knife himself, she would have been wounded or worse.

  She’d spent the night of the attack in the hospital with Curt, waiting while he had surgery to stitch up arm muscles that had been damaged by the cut.

  It had almost been a relief for her father to tell her that she’d been threatened because of a business deal he was working on. Before he’d told her his suspicion, she’d been unable to imagine why anyone would want to harm her.

  Hopefully, the meeting her father mentioned he had on Wednesday night would resolve this issue and she could get back to her life, a life that would no longer involve L.A. or the paparazzi.

  Her life in California was always meant to be temporary. Her one true love was the Precious Pets Animal Haven she owned in Kansas City. She’d hoped to have a chance to tell her dad that she was moving back and taking over the day-to-day running of the business she loved.

  She’d already told Mike Kidwell, her manager at the Haven, that she hoped to be working side by side with him in the next couple of weeks.

  She shut off the shower and grabbed one of the thin towels to dry off. Hopefully, she’d be able to tell her dad the good news on Thursday. She knew he’d be thrilled with her decision.

  In fact, she’d sold her dad part of the land where Precious Pets was located for his new mall. She hadn’t considered that her farmer neighbors would be up in arms over the plan for a retail area.

  She dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read BREE across the breasts, then brushed out her wet hair and left the bathroom.

  Troy stood at the stove taking up crispy bacon. “If you do breakfast really well, I’ll see about letting you make me lunch and dinner, as well,” she said as she returned to her seat at the table.

  He turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Bree. I’ll do breakfast duty and you can do lunch. We can share dinner.”

  She watched silently as he cracked eggs into a bowl and then scrambled them with a bit of milk. “The last time I saw you, you weren’t such a judgmental jerk. What happened since then to change you?” she asked.

  “I didn’t change and I’m not particularly judgmental.” The toast popped up and he grabbed the pieces to butter. “You and I both come from the same background of privilege. Some of us take our wealth and the opportunities it provides us to build something positive with it. Others lead lives of excess and go nowhere.”

  “And because you’ve seen a couple of pictures of me in the tabloids, you think you know all about me?”

  He scooped up the eggs, prepared them each a plate, then set hers in front of her and joined her at the table.

  “You aren’t as smart as you look, repo man.” She picked up a piece of the toast and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as her gaze remained focused on him. “If you think those photographs that capture just a second of my life are the total sum of me, then you have a bigger problem than you realize.”

  He released a small sigh. “Look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I don’t want to spend the next four days trading insults with you. I suggest a truce.” He held out his hand to her.

  He had a nice hand, one that looked strong and capable. She grabbed it and was surprised by a rivulet of warmth that traveled up her arm. “Truce,” she agreed and quickly pulled her hand away.

  For the next few minutes they ate in silence. She gazed out the window where the view was of tranquil isolation. Tall trees were grouped closely together with bushes and tall grass at their bases. In the distance the sun sparkled on a large body of water visible between the trunks of the trees.

  Actually, four days here didn’t seem like such a horrible idea, but she didn’t want him to know that’s what she thought.

  “So, what are we going to do to pass this time in this place?” she asked. “I don’t suppose you do manicures.”

  “Give me a pair of clippers, and I’ll do the best I can,” he replied.

  She winced at the very idea. “I think the only way we’ll get along is if you pretend to be my cabana boy and fix me cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.”

  He grinned at her and said, “I’ll consider it after you put on an apron and pretend you’re my maid.” He eyed her curiously. “You know how to fish?”

  “Actually I do. When I was little and it was just me and my dad, he’d take me to Smithville Lake and we’d sit on the dam and fish on Sunday afternoons. But I haven’t done it in years.”

  “It’s like riding a bicycle, once you’ve mastered it you don’t ever forget how.”

  Once again she glanced out the window. The idea of sitting on a bank with a line in the water was surprisingly appealing. She hadn’t realized how scared she’d been since the attack in the club until now, when she felt completely safe and protected by the man who sat across from her.

  “How about you wash the dishes and I’ll dry?” she asked when they finished eating.

  He looked at her in surprise. “That will work,” he replied.

  Together they stood and carried their dishes to the sink. He’d just started running water when a cell phone rang. He quickly shut off the faucet and pulled the phone from his shirt pocket.

  “Sinclair,” he said.

  Brianna knew instantly that whoever was on the other end of the line was delivering bad news. Every muscle in Troy’s body stiffened and she could almost smell the burn of energy that wafted off him.

  “Okay. All right. Just sit tight. I’ll be back in touch.” He hung up and stared at Brianna, and something in his look made her heart begin to beat an unsteady rhythm.

  “What? Who was on the phone?”

  “That was your stepmother. Your father has been kidnapped.”

  Chapter Three

  “Kidnapped?” Brianna stared at him as if the word was as foreign to her as frying onions in a burger joint. “What are you talking about?”

  The easy babysitting job had suddenly become more complicated. Troy fought the impulse to take her in his arms. She looked so fragile standing before him, her big blue eyes widened in horror.

  “Heather said she got a phone call from someone who told her your father had been kidnapped.” He hesitated a moment, unsure how much to tell her, then opted for the whole truth. “The caller told her that if she goes to the authorities Brandon will be killed.”

  Her gaze darted around his face, as if seeking a sign that this was all a bad joke. “Was there a ransom demand?” she finally asked.

  Troy shook his head. “No. They just told Heather to keep her mouth shut if she wants to keep her husband alive.”

  “You have to take me back. I need to get home.” She looked around wildly. “I’ve got to get my things together. I need to be with Heather. We need to find my dad.” A t
rembling overtook her as tears filled her eyes.

  Troy stepped toward her and grabbed her shoulders, fearing she was about to spiral out of control. “Calm down,” he said. “I’ll take you back to Kansas City on one condition.”

  “What condition?”

  He released his hold on her shoulders. “The condition is that until we know exactly what’s going on, you stay with me in a safe house my company maintains in the city. It’s a farmhouse north of town, not far from where your father is building his mall.”

  “Fine, whatever,” she replied.

  “Okay, get your things and let’s get out of here.”

  It took only minutes for the two of them to repack their bags, load them into the trunk of the car and get on the road.

  “He thought I was the one in danger,” she said, her voice thin and filled with worry. “He protected me but he didn’t protect himself. Whatever the ransom, I’ll pay it. The kidnapper can have every dime I possess as long as he gives my father back unhurt.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t know for sure that it’s about a ransom.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “What else could it be about?”

  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to ignore the tight nerves knotted in his stomach. The fact that the kidnapper hadn’t made a ransom demand worried him a lot, but he didn’t want Brianna to see his concern.

  “Maybe it’s about the meeting your dad was supposed to have on Wednesday night,” he finally answered. “Maybe the kidnapper believes if Brandon can’t make that meeting, the mall development will suffer.”

  “Maybe,” she replied, but he could tell by the dubious tone of her voice that she didn’t completely believe it. “But what would that accomplish? Eventually they’ll have to let him go.”

  “We can’t really know what’s going on until we have more information,” he replied. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was almost noon. They wouldn’t be back in Kansas City before three. Maybe by then Brandon would show up, and everyone would realize it had all just been a terrible mistake.

  “Can’t you drive any faster?” she asked impatiently.

  “It will slow us down considerably if I get pulled over for a speeding ticket. Just sit back and try to relax until we get you home.” He knew how ridiculous it was to tell her to try to relax, but there was nothing else to do at the moment.

  “Maybe I should call Heather,” she said and dug into her purse to withdraw a sparkly cell phone.

  “That probably isn’t a good idea,” he replied. “She’ll be keeping the line clear in case a ransom call comes in. She promised to call me if anything else happens.”

  When she dropped the phone back in her purse and fell silent, Troy was grateful. He needed to think. He needed to figure out how to counsel Heather when they got to her house.

  He believed, theoretically, that the proper authorities should be contacted when a crime was committed. But he’d never been faced with an actual situation like this.

  What if he insisted that Heather call the cops and Brandon was then murdered? He’d have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life. He glanced at the woman beside him. Despite the fact that he believed she was incredibly spoiled and he didn’t agree with the way she lived her life, there was no question that she adored her father. Troy didn’t want to be responsible for taking Brandon away from his daughter.

  He would feel better if they discovered Heather had received a ransom call when they reached her place. At least they would know that they were dealing with a criminal looking for a cash payday. It was much more problematic if a ransom call didn’t come in.

  Brianna remained silent for the rest of the ride, and Troy couldn’t begin to guess what must be going through her head. What surprised him was that she wasn’t having hysterics. She wasn’t playing the drama queen.

  As they pulled off the highway and into her neighborhood, she sat up straighter, her features taut with strain. “Maybe it’s all been a sick joke or some kind of a mistake.”

  “Maybe,” Troy agreed, not having the heart to disagree with her. He knew that if that were the case, Heather would have let them know that Brandon was home safe and sound.

  Brianna’s childhood home was a huge two-story mansion set on two acres of prime property. As Troy turned into the winding circle drive that led to the front door, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter.

  On the outside nothing appeared amiss. No police cars were parked in the driveway, no news crews littered the lawn. Apparently Heather hadn’t called anyone for help yet.

  Brianna was out of the car before he’d shut off the engine. He quickly parked, jumped out of the car and hurried after her.

  “Heather!” she cried as she burst through the front door.

  The redhead appeared in the doorway of the living room, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed as she twisted a tissue with her fingers. With a small cry, Brianna ran to her and the two women embraced.

  “Thank God you’re here,” Heather said as she released Brianna. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’ve been afraid to do anything.”

  “Have you heard anything else? Have you gotten any more calls? A ransom demand?” Troy asked.

  “No. Nothing since the first phone call.” She motioned them into the living room.

  “Have you contacted anyone else?” he asked once they were all seated.

  “Only my sister. She’s going to be here in a couple of hours to stay with me.” Heather dabbed her eyes with the tissue. “And I called Brandon’s office to see if he was there, if maybe this is all just a terrible mistake, but his secretary told me he didn’t show up for work this morning.”

  “How did this happen? Do you know where he was taken?” Brianna’s voice trembled slightly, and again Troy had the ridiculous desire to pull her into his arms and assure her that everything was going to be fine.

  “Apparently somebody was waiting for him when he stepped out of the house this morning. You know your father, the first thing he does after getting dressed and ready for work is walk out to get the morning paper. That’s when it must have happened because his car is still in the garage.” A sob escaped Heather and she stared at Troy as if he might somehow have the answers to make this all go away. “What do we do now?”

  Brianna looked at him, her big blue eyes holding the same appeal as Heather’s.

  “I need to make some phone calls,” he said as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I want to call my two partners and let them know what’s happening, and then I think we need to call Chief Wendall Kincaid of the police department.” He hadn’t wanted to involve his partners until he’d checked out the situation with Brandon’s wife.

  Heather shot up from her chair. “No! You can’t do that. They said they’d kill him if we contacted the police.”

  Brianna’s eyes grew bigger as she continued to stare at Troy, and he wondered how on earth he’d gotten himself into a position to make such a weighty decision. “We’ll give it a couple of hours,” he finally said. “We’ll see if the kidnapper calls back with a ransom demand. But call or no call, my personal opinion is that it’s best to contact the police.”

  “He’s my husband,” Heather exclaimed. “And I don’t want to do anything to put his life in jeopardy.”

  “It’s already in jeopardy,” Brianna said softly. “So there’s nothing we can do right now but wait for the phone to ring.”

  Troy nodded and stood. “And in the meantime, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make my phone calls.” He walked back to the front door and stepped outside to call both Micah and Lucas to let them know what was going on.

  If Heather didn’t want him to contact the police, then having his partners here was the next best thing. Micah and Lucas could remain here with Heather while he got Brianna settled in the safe house.

  Just because Brandon was missing at the moment didn’t mean that Troy meant to shirk his duty. Brandon had wanted his daughter un
der wraps at least until after the Wednesday night meeting, and that’s exactly what Troy intended to do.

  He was still standing on the porch when Lucas pulled up in his black pickup truck. He had just reached the front porch when Micah roared into the circular driveway and parked his car behind the truck.

  Troy quickly filled the two in on what he knew and that Heather was adamantly against calling the police. “Why don’t I knock on some doors and see if anyone noticed any suspicious cars or trucks in the area this morning?” Micah suggested.

  Troy nodded. “Sounds like a plan. And Lucas, I’d like you to stay with Heather later while I take Brianna to the safe house. I’m hoping a ransom call happens before the night is over. Then we can decide what the next plan of action should be.”

  The next couple of hours crawled by. Heather’s sister arrived and took the distraught Heather upstairs to her bedroom. Micah made the rounds of the neighbors but nobody had seen anything unusual that morning. They waited for the phone to ring as the tension in the air crackled.

  Brianna sat curled up on a love seat, looking lost and alone. Her eyes held the torment of her thoughts, and Troy could easily imagine how horrifying those thoughts might be.

  By seven o’clock Troy realized there was no point in all of them sitting around waiting for something that might not happen. “Brianna, I want to get you settled in the safe house for the night. Lucas and Micah will let us know if anything happens here, but it’s my gut instinct that nothing is going to happen for the remainder of the night.”

  For the first time in the past couple of hours, emotion played on her face as she lifted her chin with stubborn defiance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “That was one of the conditions of me bringing you back here,” he replied.

  “I’m changing the condition.”

  Troy swallowed a sigh of impatience. He’d hoped she’d be reasonable, but apparently that wasn’t going to be the case.

  “Brianna, your father wanted you someplace safe for a couple of days,” he protested. “He didn’t want you here in the house, or he would never have hired me to take you off someplace.”