Her body tensed. He froze in position, not wanting her to run. He was in control of the leopard, but if Isabeau fled, her action would trigger the leopard’s hunting instincts. He knew the cat would never harm her, but it would be unacceptable to frighten her.
“I know I said something to upset you, Conner,” Isabeau continued. “I wanted you to know, I didn’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories. Your mother was wonderful—a kind, loving person who really helped me when I needed it.”
Another roar of anguish welled up. Conner fought it back. She looked so young to him, so inexperienced but brave, and love welled up for her so that his chest felt tight and his heart ached. How could he have blown it so badly? Handled everything so wrong? The moment he knew he was in over his head, he should have told her. He’d taken a chance talking to her father. It should have been her. He should have trusted her enough to give her the chance he gave her father. He hadn’t even considered the idea. He knew Marisa would have asked him why. She believed in talking. She was an intellectual and believed problems were solved by talking them over.
Isabeau took a cautious step forward. “I swear, Conner, I wouldn’t use your mother to hurt you in any way. Yes, I was angry with you over what you did, but I have come to some understanding about why you did it. Your mother was an exceptional person and I know she loved her son. I didn’t know your real name and she never mentioned yours. She just referred to you as ‘my son.’ She said it lovingly, Conner. Proudly. You were everything to her.”
He watched her, afraid to move, afraid of doing the wrong thing and making her run. She kept moving toward him, in a slow, freeze-frame stalk, one hand out tentatively. Her hand was small, and trembling. He kept his mouth closed over his teeth, and a close watch on the leopard. The cat trembled and slowly sank its hindquarters down, first into a sitting position, and then finally to a prone one, although the golden eyes never moved from her face.
Isabeau took a cautious look around at the torn trees and shredded bark and then looked down at the leopard’s heavy paws. Traces of blood streaked the golden fur where he’d deliberately smashed his paws, using them like clubs against the tree trunks. The sea of rosettes created an optical illusion so that the large cat appeared to be moving when he was actually stationary. His penetrating stare was nearly lost in the sea of black spots. His sides heaved with every heavy breath. She knew she would never forget that smoldering hunger in the leopard’s eyes, or the sharp intelligence.
It might not have been such a good idea to follow him. All the others had shouted to her to come back, but she’d hastened down the ladder and sprinted after the leopard once she’d heard the terrible anguish in his voice. She couldn’t bear to hear him. She knew grief when she heard it. The idea that he couldn’t express that same grief as a man tore at her heart. She’d known his mother, what kind of woman she was. Conner had to have loved and admired her. What son wouldn’t have?
She took the last three steps to the leopard and let her fingertips brush over the powerful head. Her hand trembled and she sunk her fingers into his fur in an effort to stop shaking. “Are you all right?”
The leopard arched his neck under her scratching nails, turning his head from side to side, allowing better access. She sank down onto the one flat rock she could find near him, circling his neck with her arm, shocked that fear was receding so rapidly. The leopard stretched out beside her while she stroked the fur.
What did she know of leopards other than they were considered dangerous and cunning? Just looking into his eyes she could see that same keen intelligence that had attracted her to Conner. He was there—the man. And he was suffering. She wasn’t certain what she’d said, but she knew she’d been the one to upset him.
“I talked to her about what happened,” she admitted, searching for the right thing to say. “She knew I was upset. How could she not? I’d lost my father and then discovered terrible things about his business. And finding out the man I thought loved me had deceived me in order to get to my father—that was difficult, Conner—but I was coming to terms with it with her help. She didn’t know it was you. How could she?”
His eyes went sad. Stricken. Those fierce, burning eyes, so open to her when the man wasn’t, and she saw the truth. Marisa had known. Somehow his mother had known, and Conner knew how. She let out her breath and buried her face in his roped, muscled neck, unable to look at him. Conner had to think his mother thought the worst of him when she died. As much as Isabeau thought she wanted him to suffer—it wasn’t like this—not about his mother.
She rubbed her cheek against his fur, needing as much comfort and soothing as he did. Did he think she’d done it on purpose? Tried to make him look bad in front of his mother? It hadn’t been like that at all. “I was hungry for companionship—for a mother or big sister. A female I could talk to. My own mother died when I was a young child. I can barely remember her. Well, I guess she was really my adopted mother. I didn’t know my birth mother.”
She hadn’t known she was adopted until after her leopard had clawed Conner’s face. Instinctively her fingers went to the cat’s face. Sure enough, there were four deep furrows there. She stroked small caresses along the four scars. She was somewhat sheltered from the rain by the thick leaves overhead, but every now and then a few drops ran off the broad leaves in a steady trickle down her back. She squirmed uncomfortably.
Instantly the leopard was on his feet. Sitting, he was taller than her. His face broad and strong. He looked up at the surrounding trees as if studying them before turning back to her. He waited while she slowly got to her feet. She knew he wanted to get her off the ground and up into the trees, a leopard’s instinctive reaction.
“We can go back to the cabin and sit on the porch,” she suggested hastily.
She was a little nervous surrounded by absolute darkness, those golden eyes glowing at her. And she didn’t want to see any insects coming at her in swarms. For the most part, mosquitoes and other stinging or biting bugs kept a distance from her, but there were always the swarms of ants to contend with. She would never admit it aloud, after all her chosen profession kept her in the rain forest, but ants in particular gave her nightmares. It was rather comical to be standing with her fingers buried in the fur of a leopard and be scouring the churning vegetation for ants.
Isabeau took a tentative step in the direction of the cabin. She’d always had an amazing sense of direction, even in the interior of the rain forest, although she never entered without a guide, but now she felt even more confident. She took another slow step, her heart hammering hard, wanting him to follow her. The leopard moved to her side, keeping his neck under her palm and his body against her leg as they moved together through the heavy brush.
Wanting to keep his mind fixed on her and away from the loss of his mother, Isabeau continued talking. “When I was a child, I remember my father used to try to take me to those parks where they have roller-coaster rides, and I hated them. I was very adventurous, so he could never understand why I didn’t like the movement. Every time I rode one of them, something inside me would go crazy. It must have been my cat, but of course I didn’t know it at the time.” She sighed. “I guess I didn’t know a lot of things then.”
They walked in and out among the trees. She could hear her heart pounding. She was going to tell him—and betray her father even more. But she owed him that much.
“I told your mother about the roller coaster—and the men my father always met at the parks.” She could hear the tremble in her voice, but she couldn’t quite control it and knew Conner could hear it too, especially with the sensitive ears of the leopard.
Beneath her hand, the roped muscles tensed, but he didn’t break stride. He kept walking with her and that gave her the courage to make the confession. “I never paid attention to the men he often met there, because I didn’t like them. There was something off about their smell.” Her fingers curled deeper in his fur. “I could smell things miles away. It drove me crazy. These men would come up to him when we would get a snow cone. Dad always took me to this one stand, and the same two men would meet him and hand him a package. He would give them an envelope. I was a child, Conner, and didn’t realize, or even question, that he was getting paid for something, or that the reason those men smelled ‘off’ was because they were doing something wrong.”
She hadn’t realized how easy it would be—or what a relief it was to be able to tell him. In his leopard form, she didn’t have to face his burning eyes and know he was judging her. As a child, she hadn’t had an inkling of what her father was into, but as a grown woman, she should have been able to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. She should have known: All the signs were there, she just hadn’t opened her eyes.
“He did it for me,” she said softly, hating the truth. “He wanted the money for me.” Her throat burned. Her father was a doctor, dedicated to saving lives. He’d taken an oath to save others, yet he’d sold information to a group of terrorists—information that led to the kidnapping and deaths of many people over the years.
The leopard pushed his head close to her, nuzzling her thigh as if to comfort her. She was grateful Conner didn’t shift to his human form. She needed to get this said, and it was so much easier talking to the leopard there in the darkness. She took another breath and lifted her face to the cleansing rain. The drops were slowing, so it was more thick mist than driving rain, but it felt good on her burning face.
“I know this will be difficult for you to believe, but my father was a good man. I don’t know what happened, why he thought we’d need that kind of blood money. He made good money as a doctor. After he died, I inherited everything. I went over his books carefully.”
She tripped on a small branch hidden deep in the layers of leaves and decaying vegetation, stumbling a little. The cat moved fluidly in front of her, preventing her from falling onto the ground. She had to grab handfuls of fur to keep herself upright, her fingers curling into the pelt. For a moment she buried her face in the neck, rubbing her wet face into the thick fur. It was amazing to feel so comfortable with the animal when the man made her crazy inside. She gave a small self-deprecating laugh. “Maybe you should just stay a leopard.”
She felt the large cat stiffen, his muscles coiling tight as his head came up alertly. He opened his mouth in a silent snarl, showing teeth, his eyes blazing. She looked in the direction he was looking, back toward the cabin. She couldn’t see or hear anything at all, but she trusted his animal senses and stepped back behind him. They waited in silence and then Elijah stepped out of the trees.
“Rio sent me,” he said hastily. “He was worried your woman might run into trouble.” He stopped abruptly the moment he saw the crouching leopard, but he appeared relaxed.
Isabeau tried to place him from her past. He was good looking. Intriguing even. The same dangerous aura that surrounded Conner enveloped him as well, and he looked vaguely familiar. A man like Elijah was memorable, yet she didn’t recall anyone else who had stormed the compound where her father had gone to warn his friends. For all she knew, this man could be the one who shot her father.
“I’m fine. I found him without any trouble,” she replied.
“I see that.” Elijah studied her face. “I didn’t shoot him—your father, I mean. I didn’t shoot him.”
She swallowed hard, but didn’t respond to the bait.
“That’s what you were wondering. I would have done it without hesitation,” he admitted honestly, “to save Conner’s life, but I wasn’t first inside. I’m wondering what you were doing there.”
She went rigid. No one had thought to ask her that question. Not one person. Not even Conner before she’d raked his face. She’d been so shocked, so traumatized, but even then, she’d waited for the question, wondering how she would answer it. Now, here in the jungle with the mist cloaking her and a leopard pressing close to her legs, she knew.
“I was worried about the way my father had been behaving. It wasn’t rational. I knew he was upset, but he’d become secretive and . . .” She trailed off, realizing what it had been that had sent her following him. She
smelled
his lies. The memory swept over her fast, her stomach reacting, churning with bile, just as it had when she’d followed her father down the streets of the city and then the trails by the river, deeper and deeper into the Borneo rain forest. Her heart had sunk in her chest, and she’d known he wasn’t going on a medical call.
He’d gone through guarded gates and she had parked her car in the forest itself and continued on foot. She’d stood for a long time in the trees when he drove behind those large gates, debating what to do. All the little clues from her childhood had begun to fit like pieces of a giant puzzle.
The waterways weren’t safe. Everyone knew that. People were kidnapped so often and held for ransom, no one even blinked anymore on hearing the news. Most of the ransoms were paid and the prisoners released. It was business. Just business. But there were a few groups she’d read about, terrorist camps that tortured and murdered prisoners, always milking the families of those they kidnapped for more until there was no more and the bodies were sent back in pieces. The money was used for guns and bombs and more terrorist camps.
She’d been horrified, and then she’d been in denial. Of course her father wasn’t involved in such a thing—and she’d decided to bluff her way inside. The leopard rubbed along her leg, probably sensing her distress. She realized she had fisted her hands in the leopard’s fur, burying her fingers deep, trying to push back her thoughts.
“I know what you’re doing,” Isabeau whispered. “You don’t want me angry at Conner so you think by making my father look bad, I’ll forgive what he did.”
“I don’t need to make your father look bad, he did that all on his own,” Elijah said. “But the thing is, you don’t have to defend him.” He ignored the threatening roar of the leopard, although he adjusted his position slightly, preparing for defense. “My father left me a drug empire when his own brother killed him. I don’t have any reason to defend his lifestyle choice. It makes a great cover for me to move between the underworld and the business world, but no matter what, that’s my legacy and I have to deal with it. I choose my life. You choose yours.”