Drake didn't move, but stayed very still, allowing his leopard to come close to the surface, improving his night vision. The heavy rain made it difficult to see into the heavy foliage. The water behind the trees had allowed him to see a shadow he couldn't identify merging with the darker interior of the grove.
They had one guard, the others needed sleep, and Pauline Lafont owned one very large piece of property. He silently cursed himself for provoking the male members of the lair. He should have taken care of hunting the killer and then worry about everything else.
A deer nosed its way out of the trees onto the edge of the inn's rolling lawn. Drake didn't move. He watched the animal step cautiously, almost delicately onto the expanse of green. He looked warily around and moved to a line of shrubs guarding roses. Every third step the animal stopped and waited. Twice he looked toward the trees where Drake had thought he had seen a shadow move.
Drake shifted his gaze to follow the line of the deer. The trees were close together, some of the trunks quite thick. The rain pounded the leaves, turning the night into a thick gray veil. Every now and then a gust of wind blew straight toward the house. He inhaled, trying to catch an elusive scent. Nothing. The deer continued to make his way toward the roses, leery, but determined.
The brush near the trees moved and a skinny dog emerged, nearly crawling on its belly, away from the deer toward a garbage can. Drake gave a sigh of relief and closed both doors, and as a precaution, adfloor lock.
"Nothing?" Saria asked.
"Nothing, honey. You can put the knife away." He crawled into bed and gathered her close again. "You won't be needing it."
"What a shame." She brushed his mouth with hers and closed her eyes.
Drake lay awake for a long while, holding her close, marveling at how a woman's skin could be so soft and yet house a backbone of steel. God, but he'd fallen hard. He didn't even know how it happened, but every moment in her company just made him fall deeper in love. He drifted off to sleep, inhaling the fragrance of her hair.
DRAKE'S eyes snapped open and he lay in the gathering dawn, listening to the rain, listening for a sound that might have awakened him. He'd been exhausted and he knew he'd slept heavily. He touched his leopard. The animal had woken along with him, but was settling down once again, as if he, too, had no idea what had woken him.
Saria was cuddled up beside him, warm and soft, on her side, unmoving, not restless at all. That surprised him. He expected it would difficult for her to sleep beside someone, just as it had always been impossible for him, yet both of them had slept easily together.
He lifted the corner of her pillow where her hand was hidden. He wasn't at all surprised to see her knife inches from her fingers. He moved it back a little more, not wanting to take any chances when he woke her. Smiling, he cupped her breast, his thumb stroking back and forth over her nipple. She felt like rose petals, soft and velvety and so warm.
"Turn over, baby," he whispered in her ear, taking time to tug at her earlobe with his teeth.
Saria murmured sleepily, but obediently turned toward him where he could nuzzle at her warm breasts. She sighed drowsily and one hand landed in his hair, stroking small caresses there. He lapped at her nipples for a moment and then drew one into the heat of his mouth. She made a small appreciative sound and cradled his head to her.
"Mmm, nice way to wake up."
He took his time, lavishing attention on every square inch of her body, learning every sensitive spot that sent her writhing and tossing against him. He indulged his every whim, loving her with his mouth and hands, getting to know her body as intimately as he knew her strength of character.
A thump on the door brought Drake's head up alertly, and Saria yanked up the covers. She moistened her lips, her eyes holding a mixture of disappointment, amusement and alarm. "I can't think anymore, you've destroyed my brain."
"Good," he whispered unrepentant, leaning down to give her another kiss.
The thudding came again, this time more imperious.
Saria laughed softly. "The children are calling."
He growled a swear word in her ear and then bit down on her lobe, making her squeal. "What is it?" he called, his voice gruff.
"Sorry to disturb you, boss, but you need to see this--now," Joshua's voice called out.
14
JOSHUA Tre
gre. Saria had made a point of studying him for signs of depravity and cruelty, once she'd heard his last name. His surname carried a terrible stigma in the swamp and yet Joshua seemed to be a decent man. Certainly Drake and the others trusted him.
"Just a minute," Drake said and slid out of bed.
"I'm goin' with you," Saria informed him, leaping out of bed just as fast. "Give me a minute." She raced for the bathroom, snagging her jeans and a top as she rushed on through. He'd better not leave her behind.
She caught a brief glimpse of herself in the mirror as she attended to her morning rituals and hastily yanked on her clothes. She was a little surprised to see she looked the same. She didn't feel the same. She felt--beautiful. Loved. Part of someone.
"Let's go," Drake called.
She smiled to herself. He sounded so commanding. So like someone who expected instant obedience--and he probably did--when it counted. He didn't treat her at all the way he sounded in a crisis. She trusted his judgment, which made it easier to follow his dictates in a dangerous situation. She also loved that he waited.
She ran out to join him, laughing when she saw him pulling on his shirt. "I'm so much faster than you, and I'm the girl."
He grinned at her, that cocky, arrogant grin that tugged at her heartstrings, and he took her hand before opening the door. Joshua looked grim and Drake's smile faded.
"What is it?"
Joshua shook his head. "Sorry, boss. We had a visitor. Had to be a couple of hours ago. The kill's fresh on the lawn. A deer and a small dog. He tore them to shreds. He wasn't looking for food either, just the fun of ripping something up."
"Leopard?"
"Both had classic kill bites." He glanced uneasily at Saria. "And he used a knife on them as well. He had to have slipped in when we were at the other side of the house and he must have made the kills when he left. I noticed the deer earlier chowing down on some roses."
"You mean he was in the house?" Drake demanded.
Joshua's gaze again shifted briefly to Saria and back to Drake. She felt her stomach muscles tighten into knots.
"In her room, Drake."
Drake took the lead, signaling Saria to stay behind him. Joshua fell in behind her. She became aware of the silence. Neither man made a sound. She could hear her own breathing, but not their footsteps. The rain on the roof lent an eerie feel to walking down the darkened hallway to her bedroom.
Drake pushed open the door and stood just inside, surveying the damage. Saria peeked under his arm and her breath caught in her throat. She slipped her hand into Drake's, her heart pounding. Someone--something--had ripped every single item of her clothing into tatters. The bedding and mattress were in shreds. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, the blood roaring in her ears.
"He hates me. I've never had anyone hate me," she whispered.Drake slipped his arm around her and pulled her into the heat of his body. She hadn't realized until that moment that she was shivering. "He's demented, Saria."
"He's fixated on her," Joshua said.
Saria swallowed the protest. It would have been silly to object anyway. The evidence was right in front of her. Without question, whoever was killing and dumping bodies was the same person who had shredded everything in the room belonging to her.
"It's creepy to think someone is out there watchin' me. He must know what room I'm in."
"He's leopard," Drake said. "He can find you by scent."
She pressed her fingers against her trembling mouth, willing herself not to shake in front of Drake or Joshua.
"Did you see him?" Drake asked Joshua.
"I saw where he went into the swamp, b
ut I couldn't follow him. He left tracks for about a mile and then he was gone. No scent trail at all. None, Drake. And there's nothing in the room. His scent should be everywhere. The doors were closed and he was in there a few minutes, enough that the room should reek of him. He's like a damned ghost."
"He was too close to her, Joshua," Drake said.
She caught the look that passed between the two men. Drake was angry. Outwardly he appeared calm, but Joshua flushed and nodded his head as if guilty of something.
"It isn't his job to guard me, Drake," she said. "I don' even like the idea of it. This is my home and I'm capable of protectin' myself, even against this killer." She had to fight to keep her voice from swinging out of control. "I may be afraid, but I can handle this."
"No one is saying you can't," Drake answered. "He got too close. He came into a building where we were sleeping and we didn't hear him."
Saria felt herself turn white. If the killer had gotten into the inn with all of them sleeping, everyone had been vulnerable. "Pauline," she whispered aloud. She jerked her hand out of Drake's and turned and ran, fear sweeping through her body, threatening to choke her. As her fear rose, so did her leopard, she could feel the power and energy of the cat as it fed her strength.
Her birth mother had slipped away long before Saria had a chance to know her and her father had slowly but surely followed. He'd taught her the ways of the swamp and how to take care of herself, but it had been Pauline she'd run to all of her life. Pauline had soothed her when she cried, explained life's mysteries, had bandaged every scrape and taught her how to cook and sew and cope with life. Pauline had been her surrogate mother and she loved her fiercely and protectively.
Behind her, she was vaguely aware of Drake racing after her down the long hall, calling her name, telling her to stop, to wait, but she couldn't. Her heart pounded and there was a strange roaring in her head. Her lungs burned as she grasped the railing and leapt over it to the first floor below. She landed on her feet in a crouch and took off running again through the entryway to the living room and down the hall toward the back of the house where Pauline's small apartment, basically the entire southern wing of the house, was located.
Drake was on her before she reached the door, his arms catching her around the waist, pinning her arms so she had no chance to fight. "Be still," he hissed in her ear. "Let me see first."
She shook her head mutely. Pauline was her mother whether there was a blood relationship or not. She'd always known it, but not like this--this terrible fear of losing her forever. Drake signaled Joshua and he stepped to one side of the door. Jerico had joined them and apparently Evan was circling around outside. It was all too late. She should have thought to protect Pauline above all else.
Drake stood to the right of the door and knocked. "Miss Pauline? Amos? Are you all right in there?"
For a heart-stopping moment his call was met with silence. Saria jammed her fist in her mouth. Her legs suddenly felt like rubber. Something stirred behind the closed door. There was a soft rustle, footsteps and Pauline opened her door, blinking sleepily at them. No one had thought to turn on a light, but Saria caught the flare of cat in her eyes. She might not have a leopard, but she had leopard blood flowing in her veins and had excellent night vision.
Saria flung herself into Pauline's arms and to her horror, began to weep almost hysterically. The relief at seeing her alive was so overwhelming after such fear of what she might find, that she couldn't stop herself, not even knowing she was making a complete fool of herself in front of Drake's men.
She nearly bowled Pauline over, but the woman closed her arms around her firmly and held her close, murmuring soothingly as she looked over Saria's shoulder to Drake for an explanation.
Jerico and Joshua immediately left, giving Saria some privacy. She noticed, but was too distraught to acknowledge their gentlemanly behavior.
"Saria, honey, tell me what's wrong," Pauline coaxed.
"I'm sorry, I can't stop," Saria admitted. "Hit me or something."
"What did you do?" Amos demanded, glaring at Drake.
"Not him," Saria hastened to explain, hiccupping. "The killer."
"Killer?" Pauline echoed and glanced at Amos, mystified. "Saria, you aren't makin' sense. Come into the parlor." She stepped back to allow them into her private wing of the house. The room they entered was a small sitting room. "Drake, pour a small glass of brandy."
"I hate brandy," Saria sniffed.
"Yes, I know," Pauline soothed, "but it will help. Amos, stop glarin' at the boy and bring that comforter. I think Saria's in shock."
Saria clung to Pauline. "You know I only went to school because you wanted me to. You know that don' you? I did everythin' you asked me to do. I didn' listen to mon pere, to the church ladies or my brothers, only you. You know that, don' you?"
"Of course I know that."
"You're ma mere, you always have been." Saria tightened her arms around Pauline's neck, burying her face on the older woman's shoulder.
"Of course I am," Pauline assured her. "You're my girl. My child."
"I thought I'd lost you. I can't, Miss Pauline. I need you."
"You won't lose me. Amos and I have always loved each other, Saria, but you're my daughter. No matter . . ."
Saria shook her head, knowing Pauline didn't understand her, didn't know how close to death she actually had been. Pauline peeled Saria's arms from her neck and led her to a small, ornate sofa. She sank down, drawing Saria with her.
"You don' understand," Saria tried to explain. "He was here, in the house. I thought he might have killed you and Amos. No one heard him. He slides in and out of places and there's nothing of him left behind. No trace."
Pauline frowned as Drake held out the small glass of brandy. Saria didn't take it, so Pauline did, holding it up to Saria's mouth. Saria gulped the fiery liquid. It burned all the way down. She coughed and blinked back tears.
"Feeling better?" Pauline asked gently.
Saria pressed her lips together firmly and nodded. She glanced at Drake to see if he was horrified by her momentary madness. He looked relieved, but not about to run.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to him.
Drake reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth. "Don't be. You're entitled. You've had a hell of a time now for weeks, for months. You've been through a lot."
She wanted to protest. She'd met him because of all the terrible things and he had made every minute so worthwhile. Making love to him had been wonderful, but she wasn't going to bring that up in front of Pauline and Amos. They were waiting for an explanation for her breakdown. The brandy burned like a fireball in her belly. She glanced up at Drake again for direction. She'd blurted out important, confidential information. Maybe too much information. Her brothers knew what was going on, but they couldn't let the lair know, not before they'd had time to investigate everyone.
Drake nodded slightly, giving her permission to disclose the truth. Her face burned with embarrassment. She'd never been so out of control. The fear of losing Pauline had struck her like a ton of bricks and she'd panicked. She'd never felt that kind of fear before, that terrifying moment when one could lose that important person who meant the world to them.
"I was afraid for you, Miss Pauline," she whispered. Even her throat was sore after the storm of weeping. "Someone broke into the inn tonight. Into my room." She blushed, but met Pauline's gaze steadily. "I was in Drake's room, but Joshua discovered the intruder and chased him into the swamp."
Amos frowned. "He's leopard. He had to have his scent. We can . . ."
Drake shook his head. "That's the problem. There is no scent."
"That's impossible. Everything leaves scent behind," Amos protested.
"Let Saria tell us," Pauline advised gently. "There's much more to this story, isn't there, cher?"
Saria nodded. She started from the beginning, when she'd first seen the lights around Fenton's Marsh and she'd found the first body. Pauline and Amos remained silent whi
le she grimly told them everything. Se didn't leave out the attack on her, or the fact that the leopard had left no scent. Drake took up where she left off, revealing that Remy had been investigating a series of murders where bodies of women had been dumped on the edges of the city, along the river and in the bayou.
"And you think this killer was here in the inn?" Pauline asked.
Saria bit her lip as she nodded. "He was in my room, and he destroyed all my things." For some insane reason her eyes brimmed with tears again.
Pauline patted her knee. "Then it was a good thing you were in Drake's room, now wasn't it, cher? Do you have any ideas who this killer could be, Amos? You know most of the families well."
Amos shook his head. "Every one of us has secrets, but I can't imagine anyone other than old man Tregre being a straight-up killer--and he's dead."
"One of his sons? Or his grandsons?" Drake prompted.
Amos sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "I doubt it. They don' have much backbone. I can't imagine any of them pullin' off a homicide let alone as many as you claim."
"And Elie?" It had to be asked. Elie Jeanmard had called Saria's brothers when Robert Lanoux and Armande Mercier had hunted them in the swamps. It sounded out of character for him to be a serial killer, but one never knew.
Amos opened his mouth to protest and then closed it, in an obvious attempt to give the idea thought. "I don' think Elie is capable of murder. I really don' . He was always a gentle boy, loved animals and I suspect someone capable of the kind of thing you're describin' would have shown tendencies in childhood towards killin'. Elie didn't ever hunt gators."
Saria nodded. "That's true, Drake. Elie has always been one of the sweetest boys around."
Drake paced across the room more to hide the sudden flare of jealousy than the need for restless movement. The sudden surge of dark emotion caught him off guard. He had confidence in himself, and more, he had trust in Saria. It made no sense that her innocent statement would make jealousy claw at his gut. He didn't want to own Saria, he wanted to love her, be her partner, and share his life with her. He wanted the free spirit, that indomitable will that fascinated and intrigued him. He liked that she was open and friendly with everyone--even other men, yet he hadn't been able to squash that flare of jealousy. It was an ugly feeling and one he didn't want.