There was both an entry and exit wound. The bullet had passed through Rio’s body, close to the heart, but it hadn’t hit it. He had no idea of what damage it had done, but Rio was breathing shallowly. Conner had no doubt who had targeted them. Just as they had stashed supplies and weapons in the forest, so had Ottila.

He worked on Rio for twenty minutes before he was satisfied he’d done all he could. Rio stirred, lashes fluttering several times. Conner leaned close to his ear. “Lie still. He’s out there hunting us. I’m putting the gun in your hand. It’s fully loaded. There’s water next to your other hand. I’m going to kill him, but it may take some time. I don’t want you getting all impatient on me and trying to move. You understand, Rio. Don’t move around.”

Rio’s nod was barely perceptible. Conner put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and bowed his head, looking for a little help. He didn’t want to come back to a dead body.

Shifting, he slunk low to the ground and bellied his way through the thick brush. He crept slowly. Patience on the hunt was essential. He couldn’t think about Rio or Isabeau. He had to turn his instincts completely over to his leopard.

He circled the area around Rio, stealthy and silent on his cushioned paws. The man would have to be protected. Ottila would certainly try to kill him, to make certain there would be no interference during his challenge for Isabeau. Conner had to be able to see Rio at all times, and to be able to get to him quickly.

His cat found a tree with a multitude of sweeping branches and went up. He was up against an enemy who was cunning and quick, one determined and very familiar with the territory. He was hunting in Ottila’s backyard. But, Conner decided, Ottila had no idea Conner had been born and raised in the Panama rain forest and he also was familiar with it. Granted, he’d been away five years, but he wasn’t one to forget.

He curled up on a branch and went still, relying on his heavy coat to camouflage him, fade him into the background. Now it was a waiting game. Ottila would feel the pressure more than Conner. He would think that Elijah and the others might backtrack and come looking for them if they took too long to catch up. Ottila had no idea orders were to see to the safety of the children before anything else. No, the leopard would come with his evil intentions and he would be forced to make the first offensive move. A game of chess then. The stakes were life for Rio and Conner and Isabeau, or death for them all. Ottila had a battle on his hands.

Conner had spent hundreds of hours as a sniper, locked into a position simply waiting for that perfect target. He felt the familiar calm that always seeped into his veins. Ice water, Rio called it, but it flowed through him bringing peace. He became aware of every nuance of the rain forest. The birds, the constant calls back and forth, the monkeys, all frightened and fleeing the heat and flames of the fire. The wind was carrying the fire toward the east, away from them now, but the smoke had settled in the trees like a gray, choking blanket.

There was no sound, nor did Conner think Ottila would make such a mistake. He watched the brush around Rio until he saw what he was looking for. A low branch on a bush shifted slightly when there was no breeze. That was all the warning he got—all he needed. His gaze locked on to the ground and brush. His tail twitched and he stilled it. Waiting.

The snarling face of a male leopard in his prime pushed through the foliage and froze. Conner could see the fur was darker than his own golden pelt—more of a tan or tawny base, with a sea of black rosettes covering his body. Ottila looked a strong brute, large with roped muscles and cunning intelligence burning in his yellow-green gaze. His ears lay flat on his head as he crept forward, never taking his eyes from the motionless boot sticking out of the bushes just yards from him.

The path chosen by the stalking leopard would take him close to the tree where Conner lay in wait. Conner gathered himself, every muscle coiling tight in preparation. Inch by inch, Ottila crept forward. The foot never moved. The body never shifted. Conner was afraid Rio had passed out again and wouldn’t be able to defend himself if he missed the initial attack.

He kept his gaze focused on the leopard, watching each freeze-frame step that took him closer to his prey. He waited until he could see the bunching of the muscles beneath the thick fur, the gathering as Ottila prepared to charge. With the darker leopard so focused on his prey, Conner launched his own attack, striking with the blurring speed of the leopard. At the last moment, Ottila must have sensed his presence, breaking off his focused stare to look up.

Conner hit him hard, knocking him off his feet. They rolled, a tangle of teeth and claws, raking at one another. Tails lashed as both rose up on their hind feet, digging deep into the ground for leverage as both tried for a suffocating hold on the throat. Ottila hissed and snarled his hatred of his rival, the roars reverberating through the forest, so that the birds rose screaming from the trees. Howler monkeys threw twigs and sticks down on the two leopards.

The cats separated, circled and met again in midair, eyes locked, both savagely ripping at the other. Ottila arched into a half-circle, his flexible spine enabling him to nearly fold into two. Conner timed his swipe perfectly, raking hard at the belly, ripping deep even as the darker leopard tore open his side. They landed, sides heaving, blood smearing the leaves around them both as they once again circled warily.

Ottila tried to take the fight closer to Rio, but Conner cut him off, refusing to give ground, springing once again and driving the other leopard off his feet. Ottila rolled over, spun, nearly somersaulting, his powerful front paw swiping with tremendous force across Conner’s injured back hip. Conner tried to get out of the way enough to at least lessen the blow, but the claw connected, sending fire shooting down his leg and rolling in his belly. His leg collapsed and he went down.