She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. She found herself mesmerized—hypnotized—by his stare. She knew it could happen with a large cat. They had power in their focused stare, the enthralling moment when prey froze, waiting for that killing blow. She couldn’t breathe, locked there, trapped in the glow. She remained absolutely still. Silent. Unable to disobey him.

He turned his head slowly, breaking the contact, focusing on the two men striding across the clearing in the direction of the cabin. She didn’t turn her head, but rather shifted her gaze, afraid of making a movement, holding her breath. She could feel Conner beside her, utterly still, the tension coiling in him, his muscles locked and ready.

The men had blowguns in their hands and were advancing with care, watching the surrounding forest, stepping cautiously as was their way. Isabeau had seen them many times, moving with ease through the heavy brush. A leopard grunted. The two men froze, went back-to-back, hands steady on their weapons. Another leopard answered from a point in front of them. A third replied to their left. Conner made a sound, deep in his throat. Rio’s call came from behind them, cutting off their escape route, so that the men knew they were completely surrounded.

Gerald slowly put his weapon on the ground and raised his hands, one holding a book. When his nephew hesitated, he snapped a command and the younger man sullenly placed his blowgun beside his uncle’s. They stood with their hands raised.

“Stay put,” Conner warned. “If they make a wrong move toward you, I won’t be able to save their lives.”

“They’re my friends,” Isabeau protested.

“No one is our friend on a job. They could have changed their minds and want this handled a different way. Just do what I say and keep out of sight. Let me talk to them. If anything goes wrong, drop to the ground and cover your eyes. And, Isabeau . . .” He waited until her gaze met his. “This time do what I tell you.”

She nodded her head in agreement. She certainly didn’t want to see leopards killing two men she knew.

Conner moved out of the brush onto the edge of the clearing. “Gerald. Your brother said nothing of your coming.”

The two men swung around, the older one keeping his hands high and out from his body, the younger one going low, almost into a crouch, hands reaching for his weapon.

“You’d never make it, Will,” Conner said. “And you know it. You pick it up, I guarantee, you’re a dead man.”

Gerald snapped at his nephew in their own language. Conner had spent enough time in their village as a youngster to understand, but he politely pretended he didn’t know Will was being harshly reprimanded. They’d been friends once—good friends, but that had been a long time ago.

“We felt you needed to know the truth before you set out on this mission,” Gerald called to him. “Adan sent me with your mother’s book.”

“Why didn’t Adan bring it to me himself?”

“My mother had it,” Will said. “Marisa thrust it into her hands when the men came, and my mother dropped it. She didn’t remember until later, and my father was already gone when she went looking for it.”

Conner remained still, almost rigid, forcing his lungs to continue breathing in and out. He knew his mother kept a diary. He’d seen it enough times as a boy growing up. She journaled nearly every day. She loved words and they often flowed in the form of poetry or short stories. Will conjured up vivid memories better suppressed there in the rain forest with danger surrounding them, but it was a plausible explanation.

“There’s much to tell you,” Gerald said. “And your mother’s book will bear out my words of truth.”

Conner gestured for him to put his hands down. “We have to be careful, Gerald. Someone tried to kill your brother last night.”

Gerald nodded. “I’m aware. And there was a division in the tribe on how to handle the situation with getting the children back.”

“Does that division include you, Will?” Conner asked.

“My son, Artureo, was taken,” Will said, “but I stand with my father. Nothing we do will ever be enough for Cortez if we don’t stop her now.”

Conner beckoned them forward. Gerald stepped away from the weapons, and walked toward Conner. Will followed him, looking far less hostile. They drew thin mats from the small packs they carried slung over their shoulders and laid them on the ground, lowering themselves into a vulnerable sitting position. Conner gave a small hand signal to the others, advising them to back off and simply watch.

“Thank you.” He took the book Gerald offered as he sat tailor fashion opposite them. “Will, it’s good to see you again, old friend.” He nodded his head toward the younger man. They’d spent a few years of their childhood playing together. The tribesmen took wives at a much earlier age, and by seventeen, Will had had the responsibilities of a son.

Will nodded his head. “I wish the situation was different.”

“I knew one of Adan’s grandsons was taken. This is about your son?”

Will glanced at his uncle and then shook his head, his eyes meeting Conner’s.

Conner braced himself for a blow. There was no expression on Will’s face, but there was a great deal of compassion in his eyes.

“No, Conner. This is about your brother.”

Conner’s first inclination was to leap across the small space separating them and rip out Will’s heart, but he forced himself to sit quite still, his gaze locked on his prey, and every muscle ready to spring. He knew these men. They were honest to a fault, and if Will said he had a brother—then Will believed it was truth. He forced air through his burning lungs, studying the two men, his fingers tightening around his mother’s book.