Dion shook his head. “Can I get a cup of coffee?”

“If you make that fool of a brother come in like a normal person,” Saria said. “Bijou won’t bite him, if that’s what he’s afraid of.”

Dion raised his voice. “Robert come in here, right now. If we’re goin’ to keep your sorry ass out of jail, you’d better try to get Saria on your side.” He dragged a chair from the table and dropped into it, pressing the heel of his hand against his head.

“Remy isn’t goin’ to throw Robert in jail because he dared to challenge him for Bijou last night. The fight was between leopards, not humans,” Saria pointed out, going to the cupboard and pulling out two more mugs. She handed them to Bijou, who was closest to the coffeepot.

The kitchen door pushed inward slowly and Robert slunk in, walking carefully, hunched over, his face swollen and black and blue. He kept his arms in close to his sides as if protecting broken ribs. He didn’t look at either woman, but gratefully took the chair his brother toed around for him.

“Milk? Sugar?” Bijou asked, feeling a little more solicitous now that she could see Robert wasn’t a real threat. Remy’s leopard had really done injury to him.

Both men shook their heads. Even when she set the coffee in front of him, Robert still didn’t look up, but appeared more miserable than ever.

“We really need Drake, Saria. He’s the only one who can prevent Remy from arrestin’ Robert,” Dion said. “We can ask for him to be the judge.”

“He’s on his way back home,” Saria said, “but it’s goin’ to take some time. So if you want help, you’ve got me and that’s it. Have some brunch and stop being so melodramatic. Tell me what happened and let’s see what we can do. I can call Drake and let him know there’s a problem, and he can figure it out on his way home.”

Robert stirred, winced and tried to drink from swollen lips. He cleared his throat several times, glancing warily at his brother.

Dion scowled at him. “Spit it out, Robert, if you’ve got somethin’ to say.”

“There was one other thin’ I didn’t mention, but you’d better know before Drake gets home.” His guilty gaze flicked to Saria’s face and then moved quickly away.

Dion stiffened. “What the hell else have you done?” he demanded.

Robert hunched more. “I was drunk, Dion.”

He sounded whiny, and Bijou took the chair closest the counter where the knives were. She’d calculated the distance and in her mind practiced drawing the chosen blade over and over until she was certain she could do so smoothly. It was evident that Saria had confidence in herself and that she knew both men very well—she spoke to them in a tone reserved for close friends one could get angry with—but Bijou didn’t trust anyone. Saria was pregnant, and as far as she was concerned, the two men hadn’t left when Saria told them to. She would sit and listen, but she’d be on alert every single moment.