He swung around to face her again, understanding dawning. “You sent the letter to Jake.”

She went very still. Too still. He saw her hands tighten on the rifle. Her face paled. He smelled fear. The tip of her tongue moistened suddenly dry lips. “Who’s Jake?”

“I told you, Saria, I can smell lies. You had Father Gallagher deliver a letter to a priest in Texas with instructions to give the letter to Jake Bannaconni. Why didn’t you just mail it? And why didn’t you sign it?”

“I shouldn’t have sent the letter,” she said. “It was silly of me. If you came all this way because of that letter, I can only apologize and give you back your money.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t find dead bodies that looked as if a leopard had killed them? A leopard and a man?”

She shook her head but refused to answer aloud. Her gaze shifted away from his. Drake took the weapon out of her hands and set it carefully just inside the door of his room, against the wall, out of her reach.

“Honey, you don’t want to lie to me. Why didn’t you just send the letter directly to Jake?”

She pressed her lips together nervously, and glanced at the tree as if she might fling herself back over the balcony.

As a precaution, Drake shackled her wrist with gentle fingers. “Are you afraid of me? Or of someone out there?” He didn’t want to interrogate her, he wanted to hold her and comfort her.

At his touch she went very still, a wild animal cornered and looking for a way out. She was both very vulnerable and dangerous. Her cat was close, Drake could tell by the glow in her skin, the gold taking over her eyes and the wild, feral scent she gave off. His leopard prowled and his own body was as hard as a rock. Her leopard would protect her from any danger. And in truth, she could easily leap off the balcony and land without harming herself whether she knew it or not. He had to be careful. A female leopard was unpredictable at best, and close to the Han Vol Dan, she could be terribly edgy and moody, one moment receptive, a seductive kitten, and the next all teeth and claws.

“Saria,” he prompted gently. “You needed help. I’m here to help you. Let me.”

He didn’t think she would answer. She didn’t look at him, but out into the night. Rain poured over them, but neither made a move to go indoors.

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll take you to Fenton’s Marsh. That’s where I saw the bodies, but by now, the alligators have them. You’re not goin’ to find anything to help you one way or the other.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, a concession.

“I work for Jake, Saria. If you knew enough to contact him, you know what we’re dealing with here.” He had to tiptoe around the subject, feel her out, see how much she really knew without scaring her off.

She suddenly raised her head and looked him directly in the eye. Her eyes gleamed gold in the night. His leopard lunged for her, desperate for her. He had to breathe away the change, all the while keng his gaze locked with hers. She was so close, so still. So very dangerous and she didn’t even know it.

“Are you one of them?” Her voice was almost a purr.

“A shifter?” He kept his voice gentle and stayed absolutely still. There was nothing more dangerous than a female leopard close to emerging, but not yet receptive. “Yes.” He waited a heartbeat. Two. “As are you.”

She frowned, shook her head and stepped back, away from him. He didn’t let go of her wrist, but instead moved with her.

“Didn’t you know? Surely your family talked to you about it? Isn’t the reason you hesitated going to the police because you realized whoever killed those men could be someone you know?”

“I’m not,” she denied. She looked confused. Even frightened. “I’m not a shifter.”

This was going to be far more complicated than he’d first imagined. She seemed to know little of shifters. He could see the genuine shock and denial when he told her she was a leopard. The idea was frightening to her. He was in uncharted territory. He could handle alpha males in their prime, but a woman on the verge of the Han Vol Dan was altogether a different matter.

“Come inside, Saria, and dry off. It’s late and we have to be up early,” he coaxed. “At least be comfortable while we talk. I’ve got a dry T-shirt and you can get under the covers while we talk. I’ll stay on the other side of the room if it makes you feel better.”

“You could give me back my rifle.”

“I think we’ll be better off with just the knife you’re carrying.”

She managed a small smile, shrugged, a small feminine lift of her shoulder that tightened his body to the breaking point, before she stepped inside his room. At once, her scent filled the air, the alluring fragrance of wild, rain, temptress, uniquely Saria. He drew her deep into his lungs, fighting to hold on to sanity. She didn’t quite trust him, but she had confidence, he had to give her that.

Saria was afraid, but not for herself. Her very coolness shook him. She was leopard all right, entering a potential enemy’s den without batting an eyelash. She’d make a fierce mother, protecting their children, standing with him through every bad time. She was afraid for her family—she had to be. And he liked her all the more for that loyalty as well. He wanted her more than ever.

Drake opened the bathroom door for her and stepped back to allow her entrance, thankful he’d cleaned all evidence of blood from the tiles. “Towels are on the shelf there. I’ll grab a T-shirt for you. Throw your clothes over the shower rod and they’ll dry by morning.”