Leopard's Prey

  He'd let her down when she needed him most and he sure as hell wasn't going to let her down again. He knew she was in trouble. He felt it. His leopard felt it. Gage could think he was going off crazy, but it wasn't that. His leopard was--extraordinary. Difficult but extraordinary. He'd find her.

  "I'm goin' to find her, Gage. I'll start at the Inn and track her from there. If you're worried, follow at a distance and keep everyone off of me."

  "Has anyone ever told you not only are you a mean son of a bitch, but you're stubborn too?" Gage snapped.

  Remy sent him a cool, calm look that said everything. "I believe our father told me that long before you ever did."

  "And what the hell really happened to put that bruise on your face? Did she beat you up?"

  Remy was distracted for a moment, memories washing over him so strong, with such intensity, that for a moment he froze. After he'd marked Bijou, his leopard had emerged to rake the walls and in the process, as he'd shifted back, he'd run into a lamp. Hard with the side of his face. He'd been in the throes of passion, not caring about furniture.

  Abruptly he turned on his heel and headed for his car. He heard Gage swear again and then the brush of material as Gage raced to his own car, but the urgency in him was growing--a feeling of dread and fear. Leopards were said to find the same mate, each time they were reborn. Sometimes those connections grew strong enough that they could even speak to one another without saying a word, using a form of telepathy. Remy had no idea if that were true, but he did know he felt connected to Bijou in some way--and that connection was very strong.

  He drove fast. His leopard's vision and quick reflexes gave him an advantage on the road, and everywhere else for that matter. He used every bit of his leopard's abilities, pushing the car to the maximum on the narrow roads, outdistancing his brother. The moment he pulled up to the Inn, he caught sight of Saria in the front yard.

  He threw his keys on the seat and reached back for the leopard pack every self-respecting leopard kept close. Saria ran over to him.

  "I searched her room. I swear she didn't take anything at all with her, Remy. She didn't leave, but she isn't answering her cell." There was worry in Saria's voice. "What happened last night? Was she upset?" Her gaze slid from his. "I found the sheets. And the room is . . . wrecked."

  Remy glanced at her. "I'll do the repairs. Don' worry."

  "I'm not worried about a room, Remy, just Bijou. Did somethin' happen last night? Did you two fight? She wouldn't . . ." She trailed off, looking more upset than ever.

  He shook his head adamantly. "She wouldn't do anything dumb. I'm goin' after her. Using my leopard. He'll track her."

  Saria's eyes went wide with shock. "Those photographers have been by lookin' for Bijou, Remy. You can't take that chance. They know she's here and for all we know they're lurkin' in the bushes, or have set up shop down the road with a zoom lens."

  He moved around the house to the back, away from the street. The property stretched down to the lake and edged the bayou on one side. Saria followed him. Remy ignored her, jerking off his shoes and tossing them aside.

  "Are you serious?" Saria objected, trying again to reason with him. "Remy, it's too dangerous. She wouldn't want you doin' this."

  "I'm strippin', little sister, so if you don' want an eyeful, you might want to leave."

  "You're so stubborn!" Exasperated, she threw her hands into the air and turned her back on him. "If you get yourself killed, that's not goin' to help Bijou."

  He didn't reply. Already his leopard raked and clawed for freedom, eager to find her. Fur ran beneath his skin, a wave that itched beyond reason. His knuckles ached and the tips of his fingers burned and throbbed. Joints popped, painful to the point that he squatted, unable to stand while he tried to grasp his jeans to get the material off his burning skin. His vision had already begun to blur, to change color, and his sense of smell heightened.

  "At least let me make certain no one's around before you go out onto the street," Saria said, desperation edging her voice. "I wish Drake was here to talk sense into you."

  Drake couldn't have stopped him. No one could. The need to find Bijou had grown so strong it was beyond a compulsion. He shed the rest of his clothes and willed the change, embracing his leopard, calling him out. He'd always been fast at shifting, but his leopard had been so eager to emerge that it had taken longer to remove his clothing, but now he had barely time enough to circle his neck with his pack and boots. His was nearly all leopard by the time he stashed his weapons in his pack and zipped it closed, just making it before his hands curved and claws burst through skin.

  Black fur, darker rosettes set deep, covered roped muscles and powerful legs. He forced his leopard to wait for Saria's call. He counted heartbeats, his breath huffing out in deep chest breaths as he tried for restraint, concentrating on the actual math in his head. Waiting. Snarling. His nose already scenting, whiskers acting like radar.

  "Clear, Remy," Saria called.

  He rushed around the corner, swerved to avoid his sister and raced to where Bijou had parked her car the night before. He went still, absorbing the scent until her car was a distinct marker in his lungs--until the unique blend of lavender with oil and gas and her particular vehicle penetrated deep into his bones. He paced up and down, making certain he could follow her particular car anywhere.

  Remy whirled around and raced down the street, moving fast. His presence set dogs barking two residences away from the Inn, but by the time the dogs knew there was a big cat in the neighborhood, he had found a semblance of cover in the trees lining the street leading to the maze of trees. He cut into the grove and followed the road until it branched, moving fast. She could only go one way, and he could stay out of sight until he came to the fork.

  At the fork, he slowed to a stop, hidden in the brush while a car went by. Taking a careful sweep in each direction, scenting the air, Remy determined he had a few moments necessary to catch which way Bijou's car went. He stepped out into the road and made for the fork, padding silently on large paws, all the while taking in every smell along the pavement.

  Bijou's car had gone to the right, toward the bayou and away from town. He huffed out his breath and started down the road, moving fast, angling toward the cover of trees. The tree line stopped a good fifty yards and heavy grasses replaced the grove, but the grass wasn't particularly tall. He took the chance anyway, streaking across the open field to the grass, listening for cars while he raced toward the strip of road separating the bayous. The sound of a car had him sinking down, nearly in plain sight, holding himself still, not a muscle moving. The car went by, and his brother's patrol car swept up beside him. Gage reached back and opened the door and Remy leapt in.

  "You're totally insane," Gage snapped. "I'll drive you to the next fork. There's no way you'll be able to find enough shelter to keep from being seen."

  Remy lay down on the seat, keeping low to avoid anyone looking into the back of the car, but if they met a truck, he could be in trouble--and so would Gage--maybe the entire lair. What he was doing was endangering everyone. Drake would definitely have a few words to say to him when he returned from his trip and found out.

  Gage let him out at the next fork where there was far more cover for the leopard. He tracked Bijou's car for several miles when he heard voices just ahead of him. Remy crouched low in the brush, the leopard's heart beating fast, a silent snarl rising. The three men in the pickup truck stank of booze and pot. He recognized all three.

  Ryan Cooper and his friends had come into the cafe to get an autograph from Bijou and made trouble. Brent Underwood and Tom Berlander nearly always accompanied Cooper. To Remy's disappointment, sometimes Robert Lanoux, one of the leopards, did as well. Fortunately not this time. Cooper had a bad reputation. The cat struggled against his control, wanting to creep up behind them. A bottle came crashing into the brush, hitting a foot from where the cat crouched. Remy held him still when the cat's instinct was to bolt--or attack. He could make short work
of all three men fast.

  Ryan Cooper pulled out a pistol and shot the bottle, shattering it. The leopard whirled and ran toward deeper grass, just as another vehicle came along the road. The Land Cruiser swerved, did a U-turn and stopped almost in the center of the road. Bob Carson, the photographer, got out of the driver's side, a camera slung around his neck. He peered into the brush where the leopard had just been. Remy dropped to earth and began a slow, almost freeze-frame crawl away from danger just as Gage drove up in the patrol car.

  Cooper and his friends began swearing. Carson continued to block the road, looking no doubt for Remy. Remy kept moving away from the group, but so slowly and stealthily that he could hear Gage's drawling sarcasm.

  "What the hell are you doin', Cooper? You and the boys drink yourselves sick and then get behind the wheel of your truck and drive that way?"

  "You don' see us drivin'," Cooper objected, his voice slurred, but belligerent. "We're just out here mindin' our own business and you can just do the same."

  Gage turned his head slowly to look at Bob Carson. "What are you doin' blockin' traffic? Have you been drinkin' with them?"

  "I just saw a . . . leopard. I think it was a leopard."

  The three men standing by the truck suddenly looked sober, casting wary glances around them. "You saw the Rougarou," Cooper said in a low, frightened tone. "Here?"

  Carson frowned. "What's a Rougarou?"

  "He'll tear you apart and leave no blood left in your body," Cooper said.

  "Local legend," Gage said, walking around the truck to the hood. He lifted it and stuck his head inside, rooting around. "Most of the time when we get calls it's nothing but a normal break-in, but once in a while, we find bodies torn apart and not a drop of blood left in them." Satisfaction colored his tone. He held up his hand, wires bunched and hanging. "You can collect these at the office, Coop. You're not drivin' drunk."

  "You can't just leave us for the Rougarou to kill," Cooper protested.

  "Maybe you can talk this guy"--Gage sent his thumb in Carson's direction--"into givin' you a ride. Offer him money, or I'll call you a cab. A cab comin' all the way out here to collect your sorry asses won't be much money for you at all."

  The slight breeze shifted just a little, a playful gust swirled leaves and grasses into the air and just as quickly subsided. The leopard whirled around, almost forgetting it needed to stay low and out of sight. A stench filled his lungs. He knew that scent. Recognized it. But which man? He wasn't close enough. Hopefully Gage was and could separate the individual scents of the four men. The leopard snarled and continued his journey to find his mate.

  9

  "ARNAUD, you're goin' to kill yourself. You have to stop," Bijou pleaded. "That root system isn't goin' to hold. You've climbed to it three times and every time the bank crumbles. You nearly ended up in the bayou twice. Please come down."

  Not to mention the dirt and rocks pouring down on top of her. She didn't want to think about what would happen if he fell. She'd managed to keep him on the narrow ledge the last time he'd come plummeting down, but she'd wrenched her shoulder and nearly hadn't held him safe. It was a nightmare. The sun was thinking about sinking, and no one had come along to investigate. Maybe her car had been stolen and there was no evidence they were even there.

  "No worries." As usual, Arnaud's voice was mild, no panic. "We can't just sit out here all night. We've waited for someone to come along, but no one has. This has to be done." There was absolute conviction--and resolution--in his voice.

  The man wasn't human. She was panicking--trying not to--but she couldn't figure out what to do next. Clearly climbing to the top was not feasible, even with the rope and equipment and Arnaud's excellent climbing abilities. Every foot-and toehold he found disintegrated beneath him. Mini avalanches trickled dirt continually and if he moved, more fell along with rocks. The root he had clipped his carabiner to slowly inched outward, as if that too would fall, and with it the small tree leaning over the embankment. The SUV must have grazed the tree as it tumbled over, and now that too was precarious.

  Even as she thought it, with a horrible roaring sound, the tree tipped over in what looked like slow motion. Dirt and debris pounded down on her. She covered her head, grateful for the helmet, trying to stay as close to the bank as possible and make herself small. The sounds above her were horrible, grating and cracking, the tree groaning and then a terrible, ominous whoosh as the tree began to fall over the side. For a moment it teetered, and then the weight pulled the roots from the bank.

  Bijou instinctively grabbed her flashlight and turned it on, sticking it in her mouth to leave her hands free as she turned from facing the bank, still crouching low and covering her head as more stones and dirt poured down. There was no time for Arnaud to get himself free of the root system. The tree dragged him over the edge and into the murky waters of the bayou. She held firmly to the rope, hoping to feel him come up.

  When he didn't and there was tension on the rope, she knew he was trapped and she didn't have much time. She jumped in after him. The water was cold, the odor disgusting, but when her feet didn't hit bottom, she took her flashlight out of her mouth, drew a deep breath and followed the tree down. She strained to see more than a few inches in front of her. Debris floated all around her, sometimes brushing up against her. Using the rope, she rapidly dragged it toward her, looping it over her arm as she followed it down toward the tree, the tangle of branches and Arnaud.

  Her heart pounded so hard in her chest, she feared it might explode. Going underwater with such poor vision was terrifying. Alligators lurked, and only God knew what else was in that awful cesspool of bacteria. Something solid touched her foot and she whirled around, afraid she might faint from sheer terror. The knobby broken trunk of a cypress tree rose from the floor, one of the branches reaching out with greedy fingers for her.

  Bijou forced herself to keep swimming, looking right and left, trying to find Arnaud in the underworld grove of broken trees. The rope jerked and she kicked harder, following that trail. She swam deeper until she spotted the rope tangled in tree limbs. She struggled through the branches, wondering how Arnaud had ended up under the tree instead of on top of it. Her lungs began to burn and she worried she'd have to go back up for air and Arnaud would drown.

  She spotted him thrashing, fighting to get himself free. His hands were at the harness, trying to get it off when the tangle of rope and the branch pinning him to the soft muddy floor prevented him from unlinking the carabiner. She swam fast, now that she had a location, using the rope to help pull her along. The moment she got to him, she pulled the knife from her tool belt and cut him free. Arnaud continued to thrash. His foot was pinned beneath the tree trunk.

  She could see that the rope had wrapped around the tree as it rolled, which had pulled Arnaud beneath it as it sank. She signaled to him and he went still, his gaze wide, clinging to hers. A calm descended over her as she swam to the bottom and examined the problem. She only had seconds now and she would be forced to surface for air. She would not abandon him. If she went to the top, so would Arnaud.

  His hiking boot was trapped in the crook of one of the largest branches. She immediately took hold of the boot and tried to pry it loose. Instantly she knew it was impossible. Arnaud had been trying to do so all along. He wasn't a man to panic and he would have thought of that. She sliced through the laces, jerking them free, opening the boot as best she could. Arnaud wiggled his foot out and kicked strongly for the surface.

  Her lungs were burning and she couldn't imagine what his felt like. Along the edges of her vision, a strange red had begun to shade out images. She kicked as hard as she could, desperate for air, afraid she wouldn't hold out. The idea of drowning in the bayou with alligators feeding on her body spurred her last desperate kick. She exploded to the surface gasping for air. She'd never held her breath for so long in her life. Frantically she looked around. Everything seemed a little hazy. She felt weak, her pulse pounding in her temples.

 
A hand brushed her shoulder, and Bijou suppressed a scream. Arnaud wrapped one arm around her, putting his mouth close to her ear. "Can you swim?"

  She nodded, ashamed of the weak moment. Arnaud had it so much worse and yet he was already calm, treading water even as he drew a great lungful of air deep. Bijou struck out for the ledge, looking around and peering below her, afraid all the thrashing around might have drawn an alligator to them.

  The water was so slow moving it appeared stagnant and it was definitely brackish. She had the feeling that when the tide came in their tiny ledge would disappear. Crawfish and shrimp thrived, but there was no telling what kind of litter, chemicals or other things had found their way to the channel.

  She concentrated on putting one arm in front of the other and pulled weakly, conscious that Arnaud had dropped behind her to make certain she made it back to the ledge. She dragged herself up, clawing at the muddy surface. Arnaud shoved her up by her butt and followed her onto the narrow strip. Both lay motionless, legs still in the water while they fought to breathe.

  Bijou moved first, turning over, uncaring that she was lying in mud, pulling up her knees so unless an alligator exploded out of the water, she was relatively safe for a moment. She was freezing. Shaking. And she stank. Badly. Very, very badly. Beside her, Arnaud did the same, rolling over and pulling up his legs.

  "Thanks again, Bijou." He turned his head to look at her, confusion in his eyes. "You're making a habit of saving my life."

  "I'm gettin' really good at it." She tried to make light of the moment. She huffed out her breath. "I don' want to sound like a girl here, but I swear bugs and germs are totally crawlin' all over my skin. They have to be in my hair too." She squeezed her eyes closed tight. "I'm not lookin' until I can take a long hot shower. Maybe for several hours."

  "Um, Bijou . . ." Arnaud paused. "You do sound like a girl."