Wild Fire (13 page)

He reached back and took her hand, tucking her fingers into his back pocket. “Stay close to me. We’re coming up on the river. They’ll have an ambush set.”

Her heart jumped the moment his fingers brushed hers. It was worse holding on to his jean pocket. The heat of his skin seemed to surround her, envelope her, just put her in a cocoon of warmth. She could actually feel him moving, the ripple of his muscles, the fluid steps, more animal than man. She tried to feel her cat, to emulate the flow of his body, but she seemed that little bit out of sync, occasionally stumbling over the uneven ground now.

She’d always had good night vision, but her sight wasn’t like it had been earlier when her cat had been close. She knew the difference now, just as she knew she was fairly experienced in the rain forest, not like Adan, but she’d been superb with her cat close.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His voice was a bare thread of sound, projected—almost—into her mind rather than heard. She felt the vibration go through her brain like a heat wave. She curled her fingers around the edge of his pocket, an involuntary reaction, and instantly he halted and half turned to her, bending his head close, his palm cupping the side of her face, thumb brushing a reassuring stroke along her cheek.

“You aren’t afraid, are you? I won’t let anything happen to you, Isabeau. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I give you my word I’ll guard you with my life. There’s no need for fear. We’ve got friends close by. If it’s too difficult here on the ground, I can take you back up into the canopy and you can wait while I help them clear the way to safety.”

She shook her head. “I want to stay with you. I’m not afraid.”

“You’re shivering.”

Was she? She hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t because she was afraid of the men sent to kill them—or rather to kill Adan. Excitement. Anticipation. Even being close to Conner again. “Just nerves,” she said, simplifying without lying. “I don’t want to have to kill someone. I think I could if I was defending someone else, but I’m afraid I’d hesitate and get everyone killed.”

There was a part of her that wanted to jerk away from him and tell him to quit touching her, but another, more masochistic part craved each brush of his fingers, every intense, compelling look from his shattering gaze.

“I don’t want you having to do the things I do, Isabeau. There’s no need. I’ll teach you all the things you need to know to defend yourself and anyone you love, but when it comes down to it, you lose a little part of yourself every time you kill. It isn’t as bad in leopard form. Our cats are pure predators and that helps, which is why many of us choose that form when hunting.” He indicated the night.

She listened. At first she only heard her own heart pounding. The sound of air moving in and out of her lungs. She was acutely aware of Conner so close to her, his body heat warming her, his large frame protecting her. To her right she heard the soft brush of fur against something rough—a tree trunk she guessed. She inhaled and scented something wild. Her skin tingled as she recognized the scent of a leopard.

Conner stepped closer to her, his arm sliding around her to bring her tight against him. His lips pressed against her ear. “He’s hunting something close to us. Reach for the information. Even without your cat close, you can use its senses. You have a kind of radar. You must have known who was at your door sometimes before you opened it.”

She nodded.

“A cat’s whiskers are embedded deep in tissue and the nerve endings transmit information to the brain. You can use that information as a guidance system, sort of like feeling your way in the dark. You can read objects, where everything and everyone is in the forest, how close you are to it and what it is.” His fingertips slid over her face. “Like Braille. Right now, Elijah knows exactly where his prey is, his position and where he needs to strike to deliver a killing bite.”

Conner couldn’t resist touching her. Cats were tactile and he needed not only to keep his hands on her, but to rub his scent over her. She rubbed her face along his chest and throat, without even realizing she was doing it. He remembered how often she’d done just that when they’d lain together, naked, skin to skin. He should have realized then. Scent and touch was tremendously important to their species—a necessary thing.

Isabeau had taught him to play. With her, he’d felt different—
more
. Often, when he’d be curled up on the bed, cat-napping after a long and satisfying sexual encounter, she would stalk and pounce on him, so they would end up in a rough-and-tumble play that led right back to much more sensual play.

He’d missed everything about her, especially the way she rubbed her scent all over him, like now. Just the feel of her soft body pressing close to his, the feminine fragrance rising around him, wrapping him up in her, so that when he inhaled he took her into his lungs. He wanted to hold her forever, to bury his face in that sweet spot between her neck and shoulder and just breathe her in until he knew she was real again.

He tensed when Elijah made his move, just a scant thirty feet from them, leaping on the gunman, dragging him to the ground and holding his prey with a suffocating bite to the throat until all struggle ceased. He heard the soft thud of the body, scented blood and then death. All the while, he kept his arms around Isabeau, grateful he had a reason to be close to her.

He knew the exact moment she scented death. Her body trembled slightly, and she snuggled a little deeper into him, but he was proud of her. She stood. There in the darkness, with enemies in the night, and violence and death, she stood. That was the kind of mother he wanted for his children. A mate who would stand with him no matter the circumstances.

How the hell had he been so blind? How could he have blown his chance with her? He’d more than disappointed her. Her first experience, her first love, had betrayed her, left her with nothing but a dead father and too many questions. She hadn’t even known his real name. How did one get forgiveness for that kind of betrayal?

Something moved off to their left and just in front of them. Leaves crackled. He felt Elijah’s sudden stillness. His hand slipped over Isabeau’s mouth, a gentle reminder to stay quiet. She looked up at him and his breath caught in his throat. There was no fear there. Her eyes were beautiful, like two jewels pressed into the pale moonlight. He held a finger to his lips and indicated she stay where she was. She nodded in understanding, but when he slowly loosened his grip to step away from her, she caught his arm.

He leaned into her, pressing his lips to her ear. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move. Not a muscle.”

He didn’t like leaving her, but the enemy was too close and Elijah couldn’t get to him before the man would discover them. Their adversary was moving closer, the tread of his boots loud in the night. Conner let his lips drift over her ear and into her hair, savoring her for just one moment before he moved away to intercept. He didn’t look back, but he listened. There was no rustle of clothing, no sound to indicate she’d moved, yet she must have been a little afraid left by herself deep in the rain forest with a leopard close by and men with guns hunting anyone human.

Pride stirred in him as he slipped close to the enemy. He crept close enough to reach out and touch the man. Dressed in combat gear, crouched low, his automatic rifle cradled in his hands, the man’s face was grim and businesslike. Conner caught the scent of fear as the head swiveled back and forth.

“Jeff,” he hissed. “It’s Bart. Answer me.”

Conner could have told him that a leopard had killed Jeff just a few feet away, but there was no point. Instead, he slipped out of the heavier brush into the open, directly behind Bart. As he reached for him, he heard a soft movement near Isabeau. She gasped, the sound audible in the night. Bart whirled toward that slight noise. His eyes widened as he saw the dark shadow inches from him. His mouth opened, no sound emerging as he brought the gun around, finger on the trigger, already firing as he tried to line up the gun with Conner’s chest. The muzzle blazed blue-white. Behind and around Conner, bark and leaves flew into the air.

Isabeau cried out, a choking cry of pain, and he scented blood. His cat went insane, snarling and raging even as he caught Imelda’s soldier by the throat, claws bursting through his fingertips. The man’s screams were cut off abruptly to a small gurgle. Conner threw him aside and spun around, rushing back through the thick brush to Isabeau.

He skidded to a halt just before he came through the brush out into the open. The scent of a male leopard mixed with man was heavy and mingled with blood—Isabeau’s blood. She was breathing. He could hear her, the air rushing in and out of her lungs, ragged and harsh. He felt her pain, knew she was hurt and his cat grew frantic. The scent of the other male inflamed the leopard even more, so that he clawed close to the surface, demanding to be let loose.

Conner forced himself to think, not react. He could see the stranger, eyes glowing red like a cat’s in the darkness. The hand on her throat was not human, the claws digging into skin. He held Isabeau in front of him like a shield, his attention on the brush to his right. Snarling, showing a mouthful of teeth, he snarled a warning toward something Conner couldn’t see in the brush.

Elijah. The leopard crouched, waiting for his opportunity. Cats had patience, especially leopards. They could wait for hours if they had to, and right now it was a bit of a standoff. Isabeau didn’t look toward Elijah, or even back at her assailant. She kept her gaze glued on the brush where Conner breathed away his fear. She knew he was there. And she knew he’d come for her. There was no panic in her eyes.

Blood dripped steadily down her left arm where a bullet must have grazed her. Conner’s gaze locked on to his enemy. Leopard for sure. Most likely one of the rogues. He would never get out of the rain forest alive. Not with Elijah waiting in the brush. Or Rio creeping up behind him. Not with Adan closing in from one side, poison darts ready, or the Santos brothers crawling, belly down, approaching from the other side.

Conner was aware of all of them, but dimly, as if far away. Every fiber of his being was focused on the leopard holding his mate hostage. He stepped out of the brush, facing the man. Isabeau gasped and shook her head. His cat leapt, hissing and growling, wanting to rip and slice his opponent to shreds. There was no way to calm his cat, so he didn’t try to suppress the animal’s natural instincts. He just took a firmer grip. Of course he wanted to destroy the man touching his mate, but keeping her alive was more important than anything else, especially pride.

“Let her go,” he said quietly. “She can’t help you.”

The rogue snarled with a great show of teeth and dug his claws deeper into Isabeau’s throat in warning. Droplets of blood ran down her skin. Conner marked each one, assessing the damage the leopard was doing to her throat.

“Are you all right?”

Isabeau pushed down the burning pain in her throat, nodding, terrified, not for herself, but for Conner. He stood without a weapon, facing the man holding her, and she had no way of warning him that her captor was enormously strong. She’d never felt such strength running through someone—like steel. He could snap her in half easily should he be so inclined. She tried a cautious movement. Instantly the claws went deeper.

Isabeau coughed, and tried to drag air into her burning lungs. She kept her eyes on Conner. He looked utterly calm—completely confident—and it gave her the ability to stay cool.

“Which one are you? Suma or Zorba?” Conner asked.

The leopard snarled again and Conner’s cat clawed for supremacy. His eyes must have changed because the man’s expression changed. Fear entered for the first time, cracking the air of superiority. “What difference does it make?”

Conner shrugged. “The difference between dying slow in agonizing pain or quick and merciful.”

“I don’t much like my choices.”

“Then you shouldn’t have put your claws into my mate.”

A nervous tic broke the concentrated stare the leopard was trying to maintain. Conner noted that and immediately changed his opinion. This one couldn’t be either Suma or Zorba. They were older, more experienced, and neither would flinch at trying to take another leopard’s mate. It was strictly taboo in their society and carried a death sentence, but either of the two rogues wouldn’t have cared, believing themselves above the law.

“I just want to get out of here in one piece. I don’t want her hurt.”

Conner lifted his eyebrow. “You have a strange way of showing that with your claws in her throat. Your own elder would sentence you to death for harming a woman.”

“You have no idea what’s going on.”

“Tell me.” Conner kept firm control of his cat, who was angry with him now for not leaping forward to kill.

The smell of Isabeau’s blood drove the animal insane. Conner might not have been able to stay in control had she looked terrified, or cried, but she kept her eyes locked with his, silently telling him she knew he would get her out of the situation. He had no idea if she knew the others were closing in, but he knew. He was counting on Adan’s poison dart.

One slash of those lethal claws and the rogue would kill Isabeau. If the cat knew he had no chance, he just might be spiteful enough to take her with him. Leopards were notorious for their black tempers. All of the members of his team were fast—as men or leopards—but those claws were already too close to her jugular, and all leopards knew exactly where to strike a deathblow.

“You shouldn’t be out here. There’s an Indian stirring up trouble. If I kill him, I have a job. It’s no big deal. He’s a pain in the ass to everyone, holding up progress and killing innocent men who get in his way. We have a chance at making a lot of money with him gone.”

“So Cortez promised you money to kill Adan Carpio and you decided all those children were expendable.”

The leopard blinked. “What children? What are you talking about? This isn’t about children.”

“Suma left that part out when he approached you, didn’t he?” Conner held up his hand to stay the execution. They were all in place. The leopard was young and impressionable. And stupid. He’d looked up to the wrong leopard. “Suma led an attack on Carpio’s village. They killed several people in the attack and kidnapped children to force Adan into opening up drug routes. Suma betrayed our kind to an outsider and he also murdered a female leopard. Is that the kind of man you want to work for?”