Savage Nature (20 page)

Saria suddenly opened her eyes and caught him staring down at her. She lifted her hand to trace his strong jaw with the pads of her fingers. “I’ve been thinking about those benefits,” she said. “You’d think they would be worth it, but I’d drive you crazy. Or you’d drive me crazy. Marriage seems to give men a license to boss women around.”

He captured her fingers and brought them to his mouth to gently bite at her fingertips. “You have a very skewed view of relationships, Saria. I’m certain there are men who boss their woman around, but some men are looking for partnerships. If I’m attracted to you as you are, with your independence and opinions, why would I want to change you?”

“I always wondered that—why men would want to change women.”

“I don’t,” he said firmly, nibbling on her fingers.

“So I was wrong when I thought you were upset this mornin’ because I went into the swamp by myself? You didn’ think I needed my brother’s permission?” There was a challenge in her voice.

“I never thought you needed anyone’s permission, honey, but there’s a killer running around loose and you know it. The fact that the letter disappeared from the post office and ended up tacked to your boat was a clear warning that the killer knows you found the bodies. And then there’s the little matter of a male leopard attacking you. Common sense tells us you’re in danger and shouldn’t be wandering alone out in the swamp—especially if no one knows where you are.”

She stayed quiet a few moments. He tangled his fingers in the silky strands of her hair. Thick, like most leopards, she kept her hair fairly short and rather chopped. On her he thought it looked good.

“I did take that into consideration,” she admitted. “Ordinarily I might have stopped goin’ into the swamp, although, to be truthful, I’m not certain how long I could stay away.”

He understood. Her leopard
needed
the swamp.

“But I have the chance of a lifetime with my photography. If I blow it, I’m back huntin’ gators, and believe me, it’s difficult work. I need my own money. I don’ want my brothers to think they need to support me. I received an advance for this job, more than I’ve ever made in a year, and if I complete it, there’s triple that. I have no real choice.”

He wasn’t going to argue with her. Of course there was a choice, but she was building a career. Photography was not only her livelihood—but something her nature demanded she do. She’d taken money and made a commitment. She wasn’t the type to renege on a commitment—one of the things he particularly found most attractive. No, he wouldn’t have tried to forbid her to enter the swamp, but he sure as hell would have protected her.

The wind shifted slightly, carrying just the trace of a scent. Very carefully he caught her shoulders and eased her into a sitting position. He turned his body, placing himself squarely between Saria and certain danger. He could smell the mixture of fury and leopard rising.

8

THE man striding toward Drake and Saria was dressed in jeans and a light T-shirt, looking casually handsome as only someone with money could manage. Dark glasses shaded his eyes, but Drake could read the fury in his scent, the movement of his body and the fists clenched tightly against his thigh. He was armed—the gun was in a holdout strapped to his leg, but Drake smelled the gun oil from a recent cleaning.

Drake stood up, an easy fluid motion, and reached behind him to offer his hand to Saria. He pulled her up easily and retained possession of her hand, keeping her tucked slightly behind him. The waves of anger coming off the approaching stranger were personal, rather than anger at them for trespassing.

“Armande Mercier,” Saria whispered.

Armande’s face darkened. He clearly heard her. If Drake was reading him correctly, his leopard was close, fighting for control.

“What the hell are you doing, Saria?” Armande demanded, striding right up to them, cutting into Drake’s personal space, obviously expecting him to step back. The move was practiced, an intimidation that had worked well for him in the past.

Drake hel fury s ground, remaining nearly nose to nose with the man. “Saria is guiding me through the swamp. I’m Drake Donovan, Mr. Bannaconni’s representative.” He poured authority into his voice. This man had been with the others the night before, but he hadn’t been the one to fight Drake. He could see the shock when it registered that he was associated with Jake Bannaconni, the man who owned the properties they all leased.

“That doesn’t give you any right . . .”

“I take it you aren’t familiar with the lease your father signed?” Drake cut him off. “Step back, Mercier. I don’t like anyone getting in my face.” When the other man hesitated, Drake stepped into him. “Do it now.” He kept his voice low, soft even, but the steel was there—and the threat.

Armande stared him directly in the eyes, but Drake’s cat was already leaping to meet the threat. His gaze remained unblinking, the stare of the predator, his eyes nearly completely golden rather than his usual green. Armande gave ground reluctantly.

“I don’t know why you would react with such anger and rudeness even if you thought we’d inadvertently trespassed on your land, but now that you know I have every legal right to be here, perhaps we can start over.”

“I don’ know you have a legal right to anything,” Armande snapped.

Behind him, Saria shifted her weight, but she didn’t react. Drake appreciated that she stayed quiet, waiting, as he was, to see what Armande intended. One wrong move and the man was certain to erupt into violence. Drake wanted to ease the tension. He needed to find a way to get the lair to accept his claim on Saria without bloodshed.

Armande’s furious gaze leapt from Drake to Saria. “Damn right I’m angry. I don’t want that little slut usin’ my land as her own personal brothel. Do you fuck all your clients, Saria, or just the rich ones?”

Drake backhanded him. Hard. The blow rocked Armande and knocked his glasses sideways. So much for easing the tension. Fur rippled beneath his skin, and his jaw ached as his mouth filled with teeth. He fought the change, breathing deep to keep his furious leopard at bay. Cooler heads had to prevail, and right then the man wanted to beat Armande to a bloody pulp, but the leopard wanted to kill him.

Armande tore his glasses from his face and ripped at his shirt, as though to tear it from his body.

Drake stepped closer to him. “You do that, and I won’t be able to control my leopard. He’ll tear you apart. You’ve seen him and what he can do. You’re angry, but not because Saria’s a slut. You tried to force your leopard on hers and she didn’t like it. You’re the lowest kind of man, Mercier, thinking you’re entitled to whoever you want regardless of their feelings. Saria is off-limits to scum like you.”

Armande’s fury erupted into a threatening growl, driven by the ferocious need of his cat.

“Armande!”
The feminine voice cracked like a whip.

Armande froze. It took great effort, but he hung his head, breathing deeply to steady himself before turning away from Drake and Saria to face the newcomer. Charisse Mercier was breathtaking. She knew she was a beautiful woman and she walked as if everyone was watching her, her hips swaying gently and long dark hair flowing down her back. She wore a long pencil-thin skirt, slk shirt and fitted jacket that suited her figure and showed off her small waist. Her boots were fashionable, but looked out of place even on the edge of the swamp.

“Saria,
cher
, how good to see you,” she greeted, with genuine affection in her voice. “Armande, I gave Saria permission to picnic here.” She smiled at Drake and offered her hand. “I’m Charisse Mercier and this is my brother Armande.”

Drake took her hand. She was trembling, but trying to hide it. There was no lie, she was genuinely happy to see Saria, but she was shaking with fear for her brother. News traveled fast in a lair and the intruder had taken down two of their best fighters. She didn’t want him attacking her brother.

“Drake Donovan.” He identified himself and moved his body subtly. Saria, bless her, took the cue and moved up beside him, offering Charisse a kiss on both cheeks.

“Thanks for letting us use your land, Charisse. It’s so beautiful here.”

“
Bien merci
. I think so,” Charisse said easily. She put her hand on her brother’s arm and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Armande, I should have let you know Saria would be here today.”

He jerked away from her and Charisse looked as if he’d struck her. She turned away from them, but Drake caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. Armande gave Drake a threatening stare, looked at Saria and spit on the ground before turning away from them. Deliberately he stepped on his sunglasses, smashing them before walking away.

Charisse gasped and dropped to her knees, gathering the pieces of the broken glasses into her hands. Drake frowned and looked at Saria. She shrugged, sending him a look that said Charisse was different and no one could predict her strange behavior. She went to the woman and put her arm around her, comforting her.

Drake repacked the picnic basket and folded the blanket, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Charisse seemed under her brother’s control, yet she had stopped his leopard from attacking. How? If she wasn’t the dominant sibling, how had she managed to stop a male leopard in a fury from an attempted kill? Armande had acted jealous, yet if his leopard had been so enamored with Saria’s leopard, no one, not even his sibling, could have stopped him. He’d acted more the petulant child than a jealous lover.

Again, Charisse’s tears appeared genuine, almost childlike, when just a few moments earlier, she’d been a self-possessed, very confident woman. Something about the situation made him uneasy. His cat was hyperaware, studying the situation, every bit as tense as Drake. He took a careful look around as he packed the picnic gear into the boat. The two women were whispering together, Saria holding Charisse as she might a child, patting her back and stroking her hair.

Drake inhaled, shifting position, allowing his cat to rise close to the surface to process information. Armande hadn’t gone far. He was in the trees, watching, and now he wasn’t alone. Robert Lanoux was with him. They were being hunted. Was Charisse a distraction? Did she know? A third man was moving into position on the other side of the trees.

“Saria.” He kept his voice low, but the command carried. “We have to go now.”

She turned her head and saw him pick up her rifle and check the chambers. She didn’t hesitate, but ran to him. “It’s loaded.” She started engine. “Armande?”

“And Robert Lanoux. A third man. I think it’s the first challenger.”

Charisse, looking puzzled, ran down to the dock and waved, blowing kisses at Saria. She appeared to be completely oblivious of anything wrong.

“The first challenger?”

He kept his eyes glued to the island and the butt of the rifle snugly fit to his shoulder, finger on the trigger. He had Armande in his site and the bastard was dead if he made one wrong move.

“They came at me last night. I recognize his scent.” He never took his eyes off his target, letting Armande know he was dead if he moved. “Get us out of here, Saria.”

“Did Charisse set us up?”

Yeah, that was his woman, quick on the uptake, but there was hurt in her voice, and that tugged at his heart. “I don’t know, baby, maybe. Or maybe they used her.”

She took them out into the channel fast, speeding around the bend and away from the beautiful, but treacherous Mercier land. Drake slipped the rifle back into her custom-built case and sank down. He had to bring in his team. Things were going to hell fast and he hadn’t even gotten to Fenton’s Marsh yet.

“Take me out to the marsh now,” he said. “I need to get a look at it before they do anything else.”

“I think we need to go to my brothers,” Saria said. “They might not like us bein’ together, Drake, but they won’t allow any harm to come to you.”

Her brothers’ first loyalty should be to her, but after some of the things he’d heard, he wasn’t certain it would be and did he dare risk being anywhere near Saria when the lair launched a full assault on him? He needed to choose his own battleground. The locals would have the advantage in the swamp. They’d grown up there and knew every inch of it.

“Is this my fault?” Saria asked. “Because I chose you instead of one of them?” She turned her head to look into his eyes. “Tell me the truth.”

“I don’t know what it’s about, Saria. And the bottom line always with a shifter, is whether your leopard will accept your choice as a mate. Female leopards can be extremely difficult.”

“She seems like a freakin’ hussy to me,” Saria muttered. “She would have been all over you if she could have.”

“Don’t remind me,” he flashed her a small rueful grin, hoping to ease the tension. “I must have been out of my mind trying to be gallant.”

“I like that in you. Of course, at the time, I wasn’t appreciating that trait so much.”

Her smile was a wide flash of her small white teeth, but it somehow didn’t reach her eyes. She glanced toward the land on either side of them and then back at him. “In order to follow us, they’ll have to use a boat to get to the marsh or it will take hours. We’ll hear them comin’ if they use a boat.”