Remy knew the exact moment Gage inhaled and caught his scent. His head swung around, eyes wide with shock.

“What the hell have you done, Remy?” he asked, swinging around to fully face his brother. “You have Bijou’s scent all over you. There’s no mistakin’ . . .” He trailed off, suddenly catching that other much more elusive scent shadowing Bijou’s. He inhaled sharply. “She’s . . .”

Remy nodded. “Leopard. Mine.” He made that very clear. “This bastard has been stalkin’ her. He’s not going to get away with it.”

Gage held up his hand, shaking his head. “Wait a minute. I need a moment here. You claimed Bijou Breaux? The multimillionaire, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, daughter of a legend? Are you out of your mind?”

“I’ve been asked that more than once, and watch your mouth.” Remy shrugged lightly, but his hands closed into fists, the ache in his knuckles telling him his leopard was close.

“Get real, Remy. She’s slummin’, comin’ back to New Orleans. You think she’s a hometown girl? She’s never been one of us. She’s elegant and stylish and she’s restless as hell. She’s used to livin’ a lifestyle on red carpets with jet-setters and private jets. We don’ belong there and never have. She’s come here on a whim, putting her club together and her cutesy little apartment.” Gage laid a hand on his brother’s arm. “She’s goin’ to rip your heart apart. She’ll never stay.”

“Watch what you say, Gage. She’s my mate. No one’s goin’ to take her away from me. And I’m not goin’ to let anyone, including my brother, make her life miserable. She’ll stay. She belongs with me whether she knows it or not.” His voice was resolute. Implacable. Bijou might try to run, but she wouldn’t get far.

He feared his rising anger at his brother was because Gage was voicing his own concerns. Bijou didn’t belong in the homes on the bayou—and he did. She didn’t belong in a fucked-up leopard’s lair—she was made for far greater things. Money meant little to him, it was nothing more than another tool to get through life, and the amount she had was nearly unimaginable. It wasn’t her money, it was Bijou herself. She was elegant, a lady, just as Gage had said. Her passion came from her leopard driving her. What happened if her leopard didn’t emerge?

“A week ago you didn’t even know she was in town, Remy. Now you’re actin’ like an idiot, drawin’ some crazed fan out so you can be a hero.”

Remy smiled, but his eyes had gone cat. He knew because he was seeing distorted heat images. “You don’ have to like her, Gage, but you do have to be respectful. I’ll defend her with everything I am. She’s my choice. And just for your information, I would have been an idiot and drawn out any stalker if a woman had come to me for help. Bijou didn’t ask. I insisted.”

Gage opened his mouth and closed it abruptly, shaking his head. “You may have bitten off more than you can chew with this one, brother. But I’ll back your play. You want Bijou Breaux, then I’m all for it.”

Remy inhaled sharply. The stalker had left his scent everywhere throughout Remy’s apartment. He had cleaned up the scenes forensically, but he couldn’t fail to leave behind his scent. Unlike the crime scene the serial killer had left behind, there was no blood and fear to contaminate the nose of a leopard.

“Have you come across this scent before?” he asked Gage.

Gage took another sniff. “No. But I’ll know him if I run into him.”

“Have all the boys come in and smell him. I want them all lookin’. The moment someone scents him, have them call me.” Remy sounded like he was giving orders—and he was. He was head of his household and his brothers would do as he said. When Drake wasn’t in residence, the rest of the lair relied on him as well. He wanted all of them out searching for Bijou’s stalker.

The man’s anger toward Bijou was escalating, but his rage toward Remy was all consuming. Remy stepped closer to the long wall in his sitting room—the wall the stalker had nearly destroyed. There was a picture ripped from the tabloid of Remy kissing Bijou and another frame where he’d lifted his head and looked directly at the camera. His body was slightly in front of Bijou’s blocking her face from the shot, but there was no denying it was her.

His face had been scribbled over with a black marker—permanent, he was certain. A knife had stabbed at the region of Bijou’s stomach and then jabbed at his body repeatedly, over and over, each tear in the photograph larger and deeper into the wall then the last. Forensics had already told him there were no prints on the knife and the knife itself was most likely untraceable, but it mattered little. The stalker had fallen into Remy’s trap, and it was only a matter of time before one of the shifters got his scent.

“I’ll get them on it,” Gage said, “but watch your back.”

Remy moved through the small apartment toward the back where the bedroom was. “He was very methodical here.” He glanced at Gage over his shoulder. “He was searching for something.”

Gage crowded closer, his eyebrow raised. There wasn’t a single thing in the bedroom untouched—or unbroken. “Searching for what?”

“Evidence that Bijou has been here.”

Gage opened and closed his mouth again. “Damn, bro. This isn’t a good situation.”

“He didn’t find anythin’,” Remy stated. “I’m not about to set her up as a target of that kind of anger. I took enough of a chance kissing her publicly. I was fairly certain he’d come after me, and I knew if he came here, he would be satisfied that Bijou has never been here.”