Her eyes glittered, more amber than brown. “Monsieur Lanoux is not my man. I’m your guide, Mr. Donovan, and no one is takin’ the job from me.”

She pushed past Dion, stalking toward him, her shoulders stiff with outrage. She actually shoved against Robert as she passed him, her shoulder hitting his. She was a little thing, but solid, and she had surprised, even shocked, the male. She rocked him, Drake saw with satisfaction. His grin widened, and he allowed admiration to flair for a moment in his eyes. He loved her accent and he noted it got stronger when she was angry, something well worth remembering.

Saria picked up his bag and pointed the way into the grove with it. At the same time, she glared at the brothers. “I’m quite capable of keeping us safe in the swamp.”

“Your brothers . . .” Dion began.

“Mind their own business, as you should,” she snapped back. “Good evening, Mr. Jeanmard,” she greeted the older man as she continued walking down the winding path into the trees.

She was magnificent. Drake found himself smiling even as he recognized the newcomer was definitely leopard. He followed Saria, resisting the cat’s desire to roar his triumph to the other males. Sometimes, my friend, using brains is far better than brawn, he soothed his cat. We’re close now. It will be soon. The swamp called to the wildness bred into his bones.

“What was that back there?” he asked, knowing she would wonder if he didn’t. “Are they upset because you got the work instead of them?”

“I take customers into the swamp all the time,” she said. “I don’ know what got into them. They aren’t related to me and we don’t date, so don’ worry about it.”

Drake glanced to his right without turning his head. Dion Lanoux paced beside them several yards away, winding in and out of the thicker stand of trees. To his left, Robert Lanoux did the same thing. There was no doubt their cats had scented his. This was going to be one very interesting investigation. More than anything else, he needed to find out just how big the lair was, how many members, and if one of them had become a serial killer. He glanced at the woman leading the way through the grove. She walked with confidence, but she was nervous. Twice her hand brushed the hilt of the knife and she sent several surreptitious glances into the surrounding trees.

“I don’t want to make trouble for you,” he said.

She sent him a quick glance over her shoulder. Yeah. She knew the Lanoux brothers were in the grove pacing along beside them and she didn’t like it one bit. She had to be the female his cat had reacted to. It made sense. He was reacting to the woman. The men were edgy with a stranger in their midst. That might be natural, but to actually challenge one wasn’t—unless a female was close to the emerging.

The Han Vol Dan, the period of time when a female shifter’s leopard as well as the woman were both ready to mate at the same time, was the most dangerous time for all shifters. The male cats became edgy and restless, combative and difficult to control. Drake studied Saria. There was no sign of a cat now, nothing that gave away that a female leopard could be hiding beneath all that glorious skin.

It took him a good few minutes bee he realized everything in him, every cell, every muscle, everything he was, reached for her. Saria Boudreaux belonged to him, and he was going to have to steal her right out from under the noses of every single male in what looked as if it could be a considerable lair. And he had to do it right in the middle of a murder investigation. No small task, but there was no question he was looking forward to it.

“What?” Saria glanced at him over her shoulder again.

He was grinning, he couldn’t help himself. It felt damned good to be alive.

“Nothing. Just enjoying the evening—and the company. You live in a beautiful place, Saria.”

She sent him a faint, pleased smile. “It is, isn’t it? Not many people appreciate it.”

He followed her contentedly, and with the danger pacing close and the night closing in, he felt right at home.

3

SARIA and Drake were being followed right out into the swamp, and their trackers weren’t being subtle about it. His cat, always lethal, stretched languidly, claws out, ready for battle—even eager for it. For a few moments, Drake could only stand very still and fight the internal battle for supremacy. His cat became agitated as it scented the males racing along the banks beside him. The leopard went from mildly irritated to furious feline in a matter of minutes.

Drake turned his face up to the sky. The clouds rolled overhead, a turbulent blend of heat and moisture, threatening to break open. The weather suited his mood, stormy and unpredictable. He couldn’t allow his leopard to emerge, not there on the boat with Saria so close to danger. Not with male leopards prowling the water’s edge looking for a fight with him. He forced down the need to shift, using every bit of discipline and control he’d learned over the years to restrain his angry cat.

The ache in his jaw receded, but his bones hurt, particularly his injured leg. He shifted his weight to ease the burden on it while he drew in several deep breaths to chase away the mad desire to shift. He pushed the leopard back even more. His knuckles were on fire and the ends of his fingers throbbed. A soft growl escaped and he sensed Saria stiffen and throw him a look. He pretended great interest in his surroundings.

The boat skimmed over the soft green carpet of duckweed, taking him deeper into the misty swamp. Leaves had begun to fall away, making branches reach low over the dark waters, like large bony fingers ready to drag the unwary into the alligator-infested canals and bayous. They passed grass prairies as the moon rose, throwing a silvery glow across the dark waters. Cypress and willows hung over the banks. Tupelo gums rose up through the tangled vines and vegetation on the swamp floor. Egrets preened their white plumage, looking like no more than stick shadows against the dark sky.