Savage Nature

  Drake decided they'd already left scent throughout the acres of gardens and the greenhouse, so he left the laboratory and home for a different line of attack. He wanted to consult with Remy and share information with him. It was possible they could inspect a shipment going out of the country or intercept the local delivery.

  They made it back to the Lafont inn by nine. Pauline had breakfast waiting for them, as well as for early morning visitors. They could smell the mouthwatering food from outside the house and all of them inhaled the aroma of coffee gratefully.

  Saria stopped the moment she saw the car. "That's the Mercier car. Charisse and Armande must be here. I can't have them seein' me lookin' like this. We're all a mess. They'll know we were runnin' the swamp last night."

  "We'll go in through the balconies and shower. That way we can come down looking fresh." He brought her hand to his mouth. She was trembling. Exhausted. He shouldn't have involved her, but he hadn't wanted to chance leaving her behind in case the killer cae back. Nor could they have ever made it so quickly through the swamp. They'd managed to find out the Tregre family was involved without a single shot being fired.

  She looked up at the balcony. "I'm not certain I have enough strength left to climb, Drake."

  He knew what that admission cost her in pride. "Come on, baby, I'll get you up to our room." He tugged at her hand, taking her around to the side of the inn where the tree was close enough to use the bough as a bridge. "It's going to be slippery, but you can make it." He took the rifle from her.

  His team had scattered, entering the house silently, making their way to their rooms, where they showered and changed to warm, dry clothes. He stayed close to Saria, knowing she was exhausted. It had been a long, rigorous night. She hadn't complained once about being soaked and cold when he knew she had to be chilled all the way to the bone.

  Saria went up the tree like a small monkey. Drake was right behind her, just in case of a misstep, but she eased her way across the thick limb and then jumped onto the balcony. "You locked it last night," she said and sank down into the corner, uncaring of the rain. Her hair was plastered to her face and she shivered constantly.

  Drake stepped up to the door and quietly picked the lock, pushing the door open before turning back to her and extending her hand.

  She smiled up at him without taking his help. "I think I'll just sleep right here."

  Drake simply lifted her into his arms. "I can't let you do that, honey. You're shivering nonstop. Let's get you into a hot shower."

  He cradled her close to his chest, nuzzling the top of her head. "If you prefer, I can go down without you. You can stay upstairs and go to sleep after we get you warm."

  "I'm not sure it's possible to ever be warm again." Saria rubbed her face against his soaked shirt. "But if you're goin' downstairs to face the firin' squad, I'll be there with you."

  "They can't possibly know we were investigating them," Drake said. "Not this fast."

  "What are you goin' to tell them? They'll know we were out in the swamp."

  "It's always better to stick as close to the truth as possible," he told her, setting her down in the bathroom. "They're leopard. They'll know we just came in. It was just easier to get warm before facing them. We're going to tell them we spent the night in the swamp. I'm the new leader. My men are here with me and we're familiarizing ourselves with the area, as well as taking care of the business Jake Bannaconni sent us to do in the first place."

  She regarded him shrewdly. "You like to use his name because he's leasing most of the properties they use and they're a little afraid to lose their lands."

  He smirked just before kissing her. His woman was smart and he liked that. He peeled the soaked shirt from her body while she stood there shivering almost uncontrollably. He had to crouch down to unlace her boots. He doubted if she could have done it, her fingers were like ice. Steam from the hot water filled the bathroom, helping to heat the room as he stripped off her wet jeans and underwear and helped her into the shower.

  Only when he was certain she was leaning against the wall with the water pouring over her, warming her, did he strip off his own clothes and join her. The hot water felt like heaven. Drake just let it seep into their bodies, driving out the terrible cold. When Saria's teeth quit chattering, he shampooed her hair. She was unusually quiet and that worried him a little.

  "Are you afraid of Armande or Charisse?" he asked, hoping she was just chilled.

  "Of course not. Now their mother is an entirely different proposition. Why do you think they're so close? A woman like Iris Lafont-Mercier--and believe me that is a hyphenated last name--is never happy unless she's tellin' everyone else what to do. You can imagine what she thinks of me."

  Her voice changed to a very strident imitation of what he could only assume was Iris's voice. "That child is runnin' wild and we have a civic duty to do somethin' about it. I've called the truant officer on her repeatedly and if she doesn't show up for school it will be child services."

  "That bad, huh?"

  "You have no idea. I think she drove her husband to an early grave. He left everything to Armande and Charisse. Iris wouldn't have cared if it had only been Armande, the darlin' of her world, but she had no use for Charisse."

  "Why? I thought you said her daughter was brilliant."

  "Oh yeah. She is, but she's strange. A little off. Different. And all that ability garnered her a tremendous amount of attention in school and from her father. That sort of took the spotlight away from Armande, who is extremely handsome and charming, but without her brilliance. Mama leopard did not like that one bit."

  Drake whistled softly. "She's nothing like Pauline."

  "No. She's a force to be reckoned with. She'll like you, though. She's very partial to males. Don't be surprised if she flirts."

  "Flirts?" he echoed faintly.

  "She's quite beautiful and she knows it."

  "And she works at the post office?"

  "You get all the local gossip at the post office. She knows everyone's business and she could really keep an ear out on what her children were up to. All the other women couldn't wait to tell her if Charisse or Armande did one wrong thing. My brothers always have felt sorry for Armande because they think he has to baby Charisse and his mother is always on him."

  "But you feel sorry for Charisse."

  For the first time in hours, Saria smiled. "I can totally identify with her. I hide from Iris Lafont hyphenated Mercier every chance I get. I get the same lectures Charisse does."

  "What would that be now?" Drake carefully rinsed her hair clean. "You're out of school."

  "Aw, true, but I'm not a lady. Apparently ladies do not go into the swamp and they fold their hands in their laps, wear skirts and cross their legs at the ankles properly."

  "Does Charisse have to do all that?"

  "Of course. She is always oper." Saria shoved the wet strands of hair from her face and leaned against Drake tiredly. "Don't worry, I won't leave you alone with her. Neither will Miss Pauline. We're all used to gettin' told how improper we are."

  "Not in front of me," Drake said.

  She smiled at him. This time the smile reached her eyes. "It's just her way, Drake. I did grow up wild. She never lied about anything. I did skip school when I couldn't take it anymore. Mon pere was a drunk--that was true as well. I don't cross my ankles and I never wear dresses. And that's all right with Miss Pauline and it's always been all right with me. Charisse is my friend. She doesn't seem to mind either."

  "Neither do I. Do you have any idea how much a dress would have gotten in the way last night?" he asked.

  She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her body tight against him. "You're insane, but you're my kind of man."

  "I'd better be. You really got us through last night, Saria. I had no idea just how treacherous the land could be."

  "I know you didn't," she agreed, sounding a little smug.

  Her face was hidden so he couldn't see her expression but a small shudd
er went through her body. It could have gone bad in a heartbeat.

  "I'm sorry I put you in such a terrible position, Saria. It was thoughtless of me."

  "At least we found out the Tregres are involved. This may have nothing to do with opium or the Merciers," Saria said.

  "When Elijah and Jeremiah followed the boat, they recovered several soaps with a small ball of opium in the center. The soaps were Mercier soaps, Saria," Drake said.

  Her head snapped up. She stepped away from him and turned off the shower, yanking at a towel. "Just when had you planned on tellin' me that?"

  She was angry. For one moment her eyes had blazed fire at him. He felt the quick jerk of his cock in reaction. She turned away, toweling the moisture from her body, but he could feel the heat from her body, and the rise of aggression in his body in direct proportion to the passion in hers. She made him feel so alive. He wanted to kiss her, but Saria Boudreaux was close to being fully leopard and she was every bit as dangerous as a female cat enticing a male. Her claws and teeth could be lethal.

  "When we knew for certain the Merciers had to be involved. We were all over the swamp last night. The Tregres have two shacks on their land besides their home. The roads in and out are rarely traveled. No one is making soaps there or inserting drugs into the middle of them, Saria. You saw the property."

  She straightened up, looked him right in the eye and threw the towel on the floor. "Charisse is not capable of doin' what you're accusin' her of, and in spite of the fact that Armande Mercier is a selfish bastard a lot of the time, he isn't either. You don't know them the way I do." She stomped into the bedroom, caught up her only other pair of jeans and yanked them on. "I'm runnin' out of clothes and need to go home."

  His heart stuttered. She was angry. Magnificent in her loyalty, but angry with him. Thinking about retreating. He stayed silent and picked up his jeans rather than pickg her up and tossing her onto the bed. His leopard roared for supremacy, eager for the chase, but Drake was much more cautious. Saria was a woman who went her own way. He had to be her choice, first and always. Her fierce loyalty had to be to him. She didn't give loyalty or trust easily and yet she gave it to Charisse. There was something more going on here than he had first realized and he needed to dig a little deeper.

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he dressed. She was pacing, all pent up restless energy, her anger driving her in spite of the exhaustion he could see on her face. When she crashed, she was going to crash hard. He took a deep breath to still his prowling leopard.

  "Clearly I need to get to know Charisse better. If you stand for her, Saria, there must be a lot more to her than I know. Everything points to her. The scent expertise, the disturbing flower, the lack of scent at crime scenes, the opium, all of it, and yet in the face of all the evidence, you persist in believing in her innocence. I trust you and your judgment. If you think she's innocent . . ."

  "I know she is," Saria defended staunchly. "Someone is setting her up to take the fall. Charisse wouldn't know a setup anymore than she would be capable of being a drug dealer. She's childlike in a lot of ways."

  Drake nodded his head, trying to put childlike with the woman who had approached them on their picnic in her pencil-thin skirt, high-heeled boots and silk blouse that clung to and accented every curve. Charisse had appeared poised and confident, polished even. Her nails were perfect, her slender legs encased in silk, and her makeup impeccable . . . until her brother had snapped at her. She'd cried like a child and Saria had comforted her. That had seemed affected and out of character to Drake. Which was the real Charisse?

  "I'll keep an open mind," he promised. He had no idea how he was going to accomplish that, but he would try--for Saria--he would try. He knew if she was wrong it was going to be a terrible blow to her, and he had a terrible feeling in the pit of his belly that Saria didn't have very many people in her world that she loved as much as she obviously did Pauline and Charisse.

  Saria dragged a comb through her hair. "I would appreciate that. I know you feel the evidence is damnin', Drake, but it really is all circumstantial."

  He refrained from pointing out that Charisse was the brilliant chemist and clearly the brains in the Mercier family. Arguing would only cause Saria to dig her heels in. He didn't want the hole to be so deep that if she was proved wrong, she couldn't get out of it.

  Saria walked down the stairs with him, but she didn't hold his hand. She even walked a step behind him. His leopard roared at him, angry with the small separation between them and Drake couldn't help but agree. He'd been damned diplomatic. The tension pouring off Saria didn't help soothe his leopard either. His female's care was paramount at all times and dissention just didn't work between leopards. It made the shifter edgy, moody, difficult to deal with--not a good circumstance for him when he was about to sit down with what probably was a criminal mastermind.

  At the bottom stair he turned abruptly, blocking Saria from stepping down. His hands settled on her waist. "Kiss me." It was an order, not a request, and he frankly didn't care how it came out.

  She pulled back subtly. "Here?a step behe are people in the next room. The door's open."

  "Right here. Right now. I need to know you're with me. Kiss me. Kisses don't lie, Saria. I need this."

  Saria's enormous eyes widened. Darkened. Her long lashes fluttered. Her fingers linked behind his neck and she leaned her body into his. "Kisses don't lie? All right then. If you're certain you need this."

  She didn't wait for him. She took his mouth, her lips brushing gently across his, her tongue teasing the seam of his so that he opened his mouth immediately to her. The world dropped away. The anger. The tension. There was only the pouring of love from her mouth to his. He took her passion--her unspoken commitment to him--straight to his heart and locked it up tight.

  "Saria! How very unseemly of you." The female voice hissed with displeasure.

  Saria didn't startle or pull away from him. She finished kissing him as though no one had interrupted them, her mouth loving his. When she lifted her head, she looked only at him--straight into his eyes. "Better?"

  "Much. Thank you." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles before turning to face the woman who had spoken.

  Drake thought he was beyond all shock. He had traveled the world and seen a lot of sights, but Iris Lafont-Mercier was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever laid eyes on. It was the last thing he expected. She looked young enough to be Charisse's sister. He knew leopard women often aged gracefully and even if Charisse was in her early twenties, Iris had to be fifty or more. Her skin was perfection, without a single wrinkle. Her hair was a thick mass of spun gold and if there was gray, it looked like threads of silver among the gold. She had a beautiful figure, looking as if she'd never had a child in her life.

  She was waiting for his reaction. She was used to the admiration of men and counted him as no exception. There was no doubt in his mind that Iris manipulated every single man in her life without mercy. Drake kept his expression absolutely blank, nor did he allow his eyes to flick over her with any interest.

  "You must be Mrs. Mercier," he said deliberately.

  Saria's fingers dug into his palm, but he only brought her hand to his chest, pressing it right over his heart in reassurance. Had she trembled? Could Saria be a little afraid of Iris Mercier's sharp tongue?

  "It's Iris Lafont-Mercier, actually," Iris replied in a slightly superior tone. "Pauline is my sister. Our family can be traced back hundreds of years."

  "Drake Donovan, ma'am," he said. "Miss Pauline has mentioned you."

  "I came to see you," Iris stated firmly. "We can go into the parlor and speak in private."

  "Saria and I are engaged, Mrs. Mercier . . . Lafont-Mercier. You know as well as I do, leopards don't have secrets from their mates. Privacy is unnecessary."

  For a moment those cool blue eyes blazed a deep turquoise, but Iris's perfectly painted mouth curved into a bright smile. "If you insist. This is lair business and I understand yo
u defeated old Amos."

  She made it sound as if Amos Jeanmard had been well past his prime and Drake hd taken undue advantage. He pressed Saria's hand to keep her from defending him.

  "If it is lair business, all the more reason for Saria to be there."

  Iris's eyes narrowed. Clearly it hadn't occurred to her that if Drake married Saria, she would be the alpha female.

  "That's just preposterous. Saria Boudreaux is little more than a child. She's certainly not equipped to help you run a lair." The bite to Iris's voice was well-practiced and effective.

  Drake tightened his hold on Saria's hand when he felt her tremble. He bared his teeth at Iris, his look anything but a smile.

  "Fortunately for everyone, Saria is wise beyond her years and knows more about the people and the swamp itself than most in the lair. I am very lucky she is my mate." He gestured toward the living room where he knew her children and Pauline waited. "We'll talk in there. My men are tired and need to eat before they retire. I don't want to disturb them."

  Iris went ramrod stiff and turned her back to him, sweeping from the room, her hips an enticement in spite of her obvious anger. She used her sexuality without even being aware of it anymore, it came so natural to her.

  Charisse's beauty seemed to pale in comparison to her mother's. She looked washed out in the vibrant colors she wore and her hair was pulled back in too severe of a style. Drake hadn't remembered her that way, but she sat quietly subdued, hands folded in her lap, looking straight ahead. She glanced up at Saria and sent a small smile of welcome, glanced at her mother's set face and quickly looked down again.

  "Where are you manners, Charisse?" Iris demanded. "Is it too much to ask that you greet the leader of the lair when he walks into the room? Or are you deliberately trying to make me look as if I haven't taught you anything?"

  Charisse's face flamed red. She moistened her lips, looked helplessly at her brother and swallowed hard. When she lifted her face, tears swam in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Donovan. It's nice to see you again. Saria, good morning."