“I don’t think so,” Rio disagreed. “Adan Carpio was not lying to me. I can smell lies.”

“Then they’re using him. Whoever it is, the client found the connection between Carpio and Conner and used it to draw him out.” Felipe sounded disgusted. “We need to get him under cover. Now.”

Rio glanced at his watch. “They’ll be here soon, Conner. All of you can stay out of sight while I interview them.”

Conner shook his head. “I’ll stay with you. If it’s just two of them, we can kill them if we have to. Anyone following in the forest the others can handle. I’m not leaving you exposed with no backup. Someone wants me, let them come for me.”

Felipe shook his head. “I’ll stay with Rio, Conner.”

Conner pinned him with a steady, focused gaze. “My leopard is close to the surface, Felipe. I’m edgy anyway. My reflexes are going to be fast and instinctive. I appreciate that you’d take the risk for me, but it’s my risk and my cat’s ready for a fight.”

Felipe shrugged. “We’ll let you know if there’s anyone on the back trail.”

Conner waited until the three men left before turning to Rio. “What’s going on?”

Rio pushed a cup of coffee across the table toward Conner. “I don’t honestly know. I know what Carpio told me was true, but some of the things he said . . .” Rio toed a chair around and dropped into it. “The description of you was less than flattering and didn’t mention the scars. Carpio didn’t mention the scars either.”

“He hasn’t seen me in a few years. What description?” A faint grin tugged at Conner’s mouth but didn’t quite make it. “I thought I was considered a handsome sort.”

Rio snorted. “Despicable was a word used. I kid you not. A ruthless bastard who can get the job done. The sketch of your face bothered me. It was good enough, apparently, that Carpio recognized you, so whoever our client is, they’ve seen you and can identify you.”

“At least they know I’m a ruthless bastard and one wrong move is going to get them killed,” Conner said, standing still at the open window, staring out with more than a little longing.

The wind shifted slightly, barely able to penetrate the stillness of the forest floor. A few leaves fluttered gently. Somewhere birds called. Monkeys shrieked. They weren’t alone in their part of the forest. A faint rumbling started in his throat and he picked up his coffee cup with one hand, taking a small swallow. The coffee was hot and gave him a much-needed jolt. His leopard was roaring again, moody and edgy without his mate, and returning to the wild haven only added to his primitive feelings of need. He wanted rough. Hard. Deep. He wanted claws raking him, branding him. He rubbed a hand over his face, wiping off the sweat.

“You all right?”

What the hell did one answer to that? His leopard was clawing deep, raging for release when he needed to be at the top of his game. “I’m all right enough to back your play, Rio.”

He kept his eyes on the forest, staring out the window. He heard the low chuff of a leopard. Another answered. Felipe and Leonardo warning them they had two guests. Rio moved into place to one side of the door. Conner stayed where he was, his back to the door, depending on Rio while he quartered the area surrounding the house, looking for possible ghosts—men sliding in under cover while the front person distracted them.

The door opened behind him. He knew from the sudden draft. A scent filled his lungs. Rich. Potent. Wild. Her. He inhaled instinctively. His leopard leapt and raked. His mate. His woman. He would know that scent anywhere. His body reacted instantly, flooding his veins in a rush of heat, engorging his cock, sending his pulse rocketing so that it thundered in his ears.

Rio kicked the door closed with the toe of his boot, and jammed the barrel of his gun against Adan Carpio’s temple. He knew better than to threaten the life of a leopard’s mate. “If she moves, you die.”

Conner half turned. He could barely move, his body trembling, the shock registering along with her absolute loathing.

Liar. The word lived and breathed between them.

Conner inhaled and took her loathing into his lungs. Her eyes never left his face. Burned over him, over the four scars there, branding him all over again.

Betrayer.

Time slowed down. Tunneled. He was aware of every detail of her. Her face. That beautiful, oval face with nearly luminescent skin, so soft a man wanted to touch her the moment he saw her. Her large eyes. Golden sometimes. Amber really. Or green. Emerald. Depending on how close her cat was to the surface. Her lashes, so long and curly, a sweep of fringe that accented her catlike eyes.

Isabeau Chandler.

She’d haunted him on the nights he managed to get a few hours’ sleep. That long, sleek tawny hair, so thick. His fingers remembered tunneling through it. Her mouth, full lips, soft beyond anything he’d ever known. Talented. Inviting. A fantasy mouth. He could feel her lips on him, moving over his body, bringing him paradise. Completion. Peace. Her body. All feminine curves, every bit as alluring as her face. His.

Damn her to hell. She belonged to him. Not to the son of a bitch standing beside her with his cocky arrogance. Her body was his, her smile, all of her, every damn inch belonged to him alone. The man with her hadn’t moved a muscle. Conner didn’t really look at him, didn’t care who he was. After all, he was already a dead man, and she should have known it. The law of the jungle. Higher law. Their law.

Conner felt every muscle lock into place. His head turned slowly, inch by slow inch in the stalking freeze-frame motion of a large jungle cat. He held himself still, his leopard barely held in check, dwelling on the strong fingers wrapped around hers. He shifted his gaze, a single sound escaping—rumbling up from inside his raging leopard, into his chest to come pouring out his throat. It was low. Chilling. There was nothing human in that sound. An animal’s hatred. A leopard’s challenge. One male to another. The low growl carried through the room, cut through the conversation and music so that all conversation ceased.