Felipe snorted. Marcos smiled. Even Leonardo covered a grin.
"We can do it the easy way or the hard way. I'll have Leonardo hold you down."
Her eyebrow shot up. Her cat stirred. Finally. "You're pissing off my cat," she said with satisfaction. "I'm not good at keeping a leash on her yet."
"I'll give her the shot later," Conner said.
His voice was so neutral Isabeau was certain that in spite of the life-and-death drama in the backseat, he and Elijah had exchanged a quick smile. She didn't care if all of them were laughing at her. She was drawing the line. Rio had put a gun in her hands, yelled at her--yelled--and forced her to calm a stalking leopard. She'd had enough of all the testosterone and male leopard domination. She gave Rio her most catlike glare, daring him to try it.
"Little she-cat," Rio muttered under his breath. "You're going to have to sit on her."
"I'll get it done," Conner assured.
"He can try sitting on me," Isabeau muttered in rebellion and felt her cat stretch languidly, unsheathing her claws.
Rio rolled his eyes. "Women," he said under his breath.
They were all leopard, they couldn't fail to hear him.
"Men," she retaliated childishly, under her breath.
"Where are we stashing Teresa?" Marco asked. "I feel responsible for her."
"Someplace they won't find her and she won't be able to contact anyone," Rio said.
"Adan has a cousin," Conner said, "not far from where we're going. If I can't persuade the doctor to help us, we can go to him."
"How well do you know the doctor?" Rio asked.
"Fairly well. He and my mother were friends. They played chess. He actually taught me chess. He would never betray our people."
"Switch places with me," Elijah said. His voice was strained.
Isabeau could hear rustling in the backseat.
"Down this road, Felipe," Conner called out. "The third farm. He practices out of his home now, he's retired."
The road was pitted with deep potholes. She could imagine a leopard choosing this spot to live. The forest encroached close to the houses, and there was a large distance between each farm, giving plenty of privacy. As they bounced past the first two farms, in both instances someone came out to the porch to mark their passing. Obviously more than curious, she wondered if they were leopard as well. She found herself being nervous all over again, or maybe her anxiety hadn't had the chance to dissipate. It didn't help when the men all checked weapons and Rio slipped her a small Glock.
"Take it," he hissed. "Just in case."
Discovering how these men had to live was a revelation. She knew it was a choice, and that she was making that choice with them, because her choice was always and forever Conner. She took the gun and checked it to make certain it was fully loaded and safe to carry.
Elijah took over again for Conner so Conner could pull on a pair of jeans before Rio opened the back of the SUV. They went onto the porch together. Conner rapped on the door and waited. He could hear movement: one, no, two people. One had a heavier tread than the other. The heavier tread approached the door and swung it open, no small telling crack, rather a wide welcome.
"What can I do . . ." The voice broke off, taking in Conner's torn body. "Come in."
"Doc, it's Conner Vega. You remember me? I've got a kid in bad shape. Really bad shape. A leopard attack. We need your help."
The doctor didn't ask questions but motioned them to bring the boy inside.
"I'm sorry, Doc, but we'll have to know who's in the house," Conner said.
"My wife, Mary," the doctor answered without hesitation. "Bring him in, Conner. If your friend has to search, tell him to hurry if it's as life threatening as you're implying."
Rio went into the house and Conner ran back to the SUV, waving for the others to bring Jeremiah. Isabeau dropped back to protect Elijah as he carried Jeremiah into the house. Leonardo stayed on the porch. Felipe and Marcos drove away, taking Teresa with them, presumably heading to Adan's cousin, where they knew the tribesman would look after her.
"Puncture wounds to the throat. We've been breathing for him most of the time," Conner explained as Elijah laid Jeremiah on the table in the doctor's small office. They hung the bag of fluids on the hook and stepped back to give the doctor room.
"Mary!" the doctor called. "I need you. This is more important than your soap opera."
She came in, a small woman with graying hair and laughing eyes. "I don't watch soap operas, you old coot, and you know it." She smacked him with a rolled-up newspaper as she went past him straight to the sink to wash her hands and don gloves.
"Get out, Conner. But don't go too far. You're next and then the young lady," the doctor ordered gruffly. "And don't pace like you used to. Sit down before you fall down. There's hot coffee in the kitchen."
Mary glanced over her shoulder. "Fresh bread under the tea towel." She bent over Jeremiah.
Conner watched the two working so smoothly together, barely speaking, handing instruments back and forth with the doctor grunting occasionally and shaking his head.
Isabeau tangled her fingers with his and looked up into his face. She was exhausted and worried. He tightened his hand around hers and pulled her with him out of the room. Elijah followed reluctantly.
"He's good?" he asked.
Conner nodded. "All the leopards came to him. He might be retired by now, but he knows his stuff. He won't let him die if he can possibly save him. His name is Abel Winters. Dr. Abel Winters. He was in our village for a while, but left before my mother and I did. Of course he was very young and probably had gone off to school. I didn't really remember him, when I was that young, but my mother did. She knew everyone in our village."
He looked around until he found a towel to soak so he could try to clean some of the blood off before he sat down. "When we moved to the cabin, my mother would take me to him for the normal broken bones. I shifted fairly early and used to try leaping from the canopy and trying to shift on my way down. I broke a fair amount of bones that way."
Elijah laughed. "I'll bet you did."
The tension eased a little. Isabeau took the towel from Conner and he bent over the sink, holding on to the edge as she tried to wipe the worst of the blood away.
"Damn, that hurts like hell. I'm going to find a shower."
She wanted to go with him, but stayed in the kitchen with Elijah, feeling awkward and out of place.
"You did well, Isabeau," Elijah offered, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"I was scared." She didn't look at him, but out the window. "Really scared."
"We all were. I knew I was running a gauntlet, trying to get to Jeremiah, and I expected the sniper to shoot me at any moment. I imagine you expected the same thing."
She shook her head. "No, I expected him to shoot Conner. He had the same problem I did. He didn't want to hit his friend. I didn't want to hit Conner." She wiped back the tendrils of hair spilling around her face.
"What does 'marking' mean, Elijah?"
He frowned. "In what context?"
She avoided his gaze again, staring uneasily at the floor. "Like the marks I accidentally put on Conner's face. What does that mean in the leopard world?"
He shrugged. "He's your mate, so it's no big deal. You put your mark on him. More than skin deep. You have a certain chemical in your claws. You can transfer that chemical into a man's body. You did that when you raked Conner. You didn't know what you were doing, but your cat did. She made certain he would want her. Usually a female won't do that unless she's in the throes of the Han Vol Dan. I won't say it never happens, as evidence by your cat marking Conner, but that's probably the biggest danger during the emergence."
"So what happens if she marks someone not her mate?"
Elijah straightened slowly, the silence stretching painfully until she was forced to meet his eyes. "Did that happen, Isabeau?"
"Did what happen?" Conner asked, striding into the room, toweling his hair dry. His j
eans rode low on his hips, the deep lacerations, bite marks and torn flesh very evident.
She bit her lip hard. She had a very bad feeling that Elijah was going to reveal something she didn't want to know.
"Isabeau wants to know what would happen if she marked someone other than her mate."
There was that silence again, stretching until her nerves were raw.
"Isabeau?" Conner asked. "Did that happen?"
She avoided the question. "I found a dead body in the garden. I think Philip Sobre is a serial killer." To keep from looking at either of them, she went to the other side of the table and lifted the tea towel from the freshly baked loaf of bread.
Silence greeted her statement. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned around. Conner looked stunned. "You found what?"
She sliced the bread and put it on a plate. It was warm and smelled like heaven. "A body. Alberto told me about designing the garden and planting it. Apparently he's a gardener, a very good one. He invited me to look around. He waited for me by the pond."
"Get to the body, Isabeau," Elijah said.
"And the marking another man," Conner encouraged.
She took a dish of butter from Elijah and applied it to two slices, pushing the plates across to them before pouring coffee. "Does anyone take cream?"
Conner put the coffee cup down and went around the table to wrap an arm around her waist. "Stop what you're doing and sit down. You need to tell us what happened."
Isabeau let him pull out a chair and put her in it. The two men sat down with her. She shook her head. "I don't know if Alberto knew the body was there and wanted me to find it. Maybe he wanted me to call the police on Sobre."
"Are you certain it was a body?" Conner asked.
"Positive. I got close to it. Something--an animal--had been digging. There were insects and the smell of decomposition. I saw a finger. It was a body. I backed off and removed all evidence of my presence. I didn't know what to do. I didn't trust Alberto or his guard. He didn't give any indication that he was anything but a nice old man, but my cat didn't like him touching me and I just had this feeling . . ." She pressed her hand to her stomach and looked helplessly at Conner.
He reached for her hand and brought the tips of her fingers to his mouth. "I'm sorry, honey, I should never have allowed you to get mixed up in this. If I'd been thinking, I would have stashed you somewhere safe until it was over."
"I wouldn't have gone. I started this, Conner, and I'm going to see it through. Someone has to stop them."
Elijah took a sip of the coffee and made an appreciative sound. "She's done great, Conner. She walked right up in the middle of a leopard fight and shot the son of a bitch. She found a dead body in a garden and didn't scream her head off. She kept her cool and removed all evidence of being there."
Elijah's assessment of the situation steadied her. She flashed him a quick smile. "I was leaving and Ottila showed up. He cut off my escape. We were in deep brush and I was pretty sure Jeremiah didn't have a good shot at him. What I didn't know until later is that the two rogues had assumed you'd put a shooter in the canopy, and Ottila was the bait to draw Jeremiah out while Suma did the hunting."
Conner covered her hand again to still her fingers as they tapped nervously on the tabletop. "No one could have known, Isabeau."
"Maybe, but you probably would have caught on to what he was doing. He talked instead of acted. He knew Harry and Alberto might walk up at any moment but he kept talking to me. I should have put it together. I didn't know until he taunted me with where Suma was. I tried drawing him into the open by talking and taking little steps backward. He followed, but then he grabbed me, and when I gave the signal, Jeremiah didn't take the shot."
She bit down hard on her lip, the memory of that moment terrifying her. At the time, she couldn't give in to fright, but now, safe with Elijah and Conner, and far away from Ottila, she found herself trembling. She lowered her eyes, ashamed, but determined to tell Conner everything. "And then she got all amorous on me."
Conner straightened in his chair. Elijah took another sip of coffee. "Keep going," Conner encouraged.
It was only his fingers on hers that gave her the courage. "He got really ugly, and then she--my leopard--swiped at his arm when he tried to force me to go with him. She marked him. He said something about it that made me think I'd done something wrong--that it was more than just protecting myself. It was the way he said it."
Conner's eyes met Elijah's over her head. He lifted her fingers to his mouth again and bit down gently on the tips. "It's all right, Isabeau. You got away. You used whatever means you could and you didn't panic."
"But what does it mean?"
"He has the right to challenge me for you."
Her heart jumped. Ottila was strong. He had confidence in himself. She thought it was significant that he hadn't shot her. She'd been out in the open. The two leopards were rolling together in a wild scramble, but she'd been the one exposed most of the time. She had a rifle in her hands and he had to have known she was trying for a shot at Suma, yet Ottila hadn't shot her.
She leaned her head into the heel of her hand. "I'm tired, Conner. I just want to lie down for a few minutes. Maybe take a shower first. I swear those people made me feel dirty just being in the same room with them."
"Back in the forest, there's a resort owned by the doctor's son. Mostly leopards stay in the area because it isn't well known, they don't advertise, it's mostly word of mouth. We can stay there tonight. They have individual cabins. We'll be close enough to Jeremiah to keep an eye on him and yet still be safe. This road looks as if it dead ends, but there's a small side road about a mile up, swinging deeper into the woods. Most of the time it's passable. Not always after a good rain."
The doctor walked into the room, looking tired. He drew up a chair and sank into it. "He's going to live, but he'll have a very different voice. And he's going to have to do some swallowing therapy. He's breathing and that's what counts." He sighed and looked directly at Conner, his eyes demanding. "Do you want to tell me what you've gotten yourself mixed up in? You didn't do that to that boy, did you?"
Conner looked a little shocked. "No. I should have known it would look that way. He was attacked and I jumped in. Elijah pulled him out. You don't want any part of this, Doc."
"You made me a part of it by bringing that boy here."
Conner shrugged and glanced at Elijah. "Imelda Cortez kidnapped children from Adan's village. She took my half brother as well and killed my mother."
"Ah." Few things shook the doctor, but he was visibly shocked. "In that case, let me call my son and get you a place to stay. Your other men are going to need something hot to keep them going while I clean you up."
15
THE cabin Conner chose was the greatest distance from all the others and deepest in the forest. He needed to feel the safety of the trees around Isabeau. Her leopard had marked another man, and that gave that man the right to step forward and challenge his claim on her. Their species was an old one and they followed the higher law of the wild. It wasn't Isabeau's fault. She hadn't been raised leopard and she didn't know how it all worked. She didn't yet know how to fully control her leopard. The girls living in the villages were taught from the time they were little so when the Han Vol Dan occurred, they had a better chance of keeping their leopards under control.
His father had taken advantage of that law. His mother had been young and impressionable. An older, handsome man, strong, a village leader, she'd been flattered that he'd courted her. When he pushed his suit before her time, she'd made the mistake of marking him. There was no one capable of challenging him for her hand, and wherever her true mate was, if he was even alive, he hadn't been in the village to save her.
He could hear the water turn off abruptly in the shower. The scent of lavender drifted to him through the open door. He sat waiting for her on the bed. She was exhausted--so was he--but there was one more task he had to finish tonight. He smiled as he looked out the large pi
cture window. Moonlight barely managed to make it through the high canopy, but there were breaks where the trees had been cleared to make room for the cabin, and beams burst into the room, spilling silver across the tiled floor.
He leaned back and stared at the high ceiling, a light wood with darker knots scattered all through it. The cabin's walls were wood and covered in rake marks. He could see deep furrows decorating each of the four sides and the ends of his fingers tingled with the need to leave his own mark. He should have left his mark on Isabeau.
He'd been saving that ritual for marriage, but he should have done it. Any male would have thought twice before trying to force a claim. Ottila had judged correctly that she was innocent and wouldn't have knowledge enough, or control enough, to elude his trap. He swore under his breath. It was his fault. Any other male would have made certain she was marked. It was just that . . .
He sighed. He'd betrayed her by seducing her while he was working a job. She hadn't even known his real name. He wanted choices for her. He wanted to be certain he was her choice--Isabeau--the woman--not her leopard. He wanted all of her to be his.
"Damn it." He raked his fingers through his hair, angry with himself.
"What's wrong?"
She leaned one slim hip against the doorjamb, a towel wrapped like a sarong around her body while she towel-dried her hair. The shower had done her good. Her skin wasn't quite so pale, although the bruises on her arms stood out.
His breath suddenly caught in his throat. "Did he put his mark on you?"
She frowned. "Like how?"
"Did he bite you? Claw you?" He leapt up, one fluid movement, swift and purposeful, but obviously intimidating. She retreated into the hall, her eyes wide.
"No. He didn't get the chance. Felipe came and scared him off." Her frown deepened. "He wasn't exactly scared. He actually was very confident. I don't think Suma was the dominant between them. I think it was the other way around."
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the dark blemishes marring her upper arm before taking her hand and leading her into the bedroom. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For having the courage to kill the man who murdered my mother. I know that wasn't easy for you. And for braving a leopard in the throes of madness." He turned up her arm to examine the four marks there. They matched the scars on his face, although they weren't deep, more like scratches than lacerations. Still . . . He kissed each red streak, his mouth gentle.