“I would say that means they’re still around. We have to figure out where they are before they get out of town and become someone else’s nightmare,” Remy suggested. He scooped up trout and added poached eggs and hollandaise sauce from the silver warmers set in the middle of the table.

“Fresh-squeezed orange juice,” Saria announced, putting two wineglasses filled with the juice in front of her brothers. “Drink it. Neither one of you is gettin’ any sleep, and if you’re going to catch all the criminals lurking around the bayou, you’d better be in shape.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gage said, and dutifully downed the orange juice in one long gulp. “Where’s our esteemed leader?”

Saria pressed her lips together and looked away.

“Saria?” Remy dropped his voice to that one note no one ever disobeyed.

She took a deep breath and poured herself a glass of orange juice, clearly stalling. “When Gage called this mornin’ and said the Rousseau brothers were gone, he went into the swamp in the hope of tracking them,” she admitted, carefully not looking at either brother.

“And he didn’t think it was necessary for him to have backup?” Remy demanded, his fork halting inches from his mouth.

“Of course he had backup. He said forensics hasn’t come out yet with the theory of animal fur and leopard paw prints, so if they were careful, they might be able to have somethin’ for you within an hour or so.”

Remy lifted an eyebrow. “Lojos and Mahieu, I presume?”

Saria nodded. “He said you and Gage were workin’ on a couple of hours of sleep and the lair needed to help out. He called the others and told them to be watchful, but not to actively hunt.”

“And Dash. What is he doin’?” Remy asked shrewdly. “Bijou, don’ just drink coffee. Eat breakfast,” he added, and scooped trout and eggs onto a warm plate.

Bijou, curled up on her chair sipping at her coffee, looked startled. “I’m not hungry.”

“Be hungry,” he said. “Saria? What the hell does Drake have Dash doin’?”

“He’s on guard duty,” she said. “Bijou, you have bites all over your neck.”

Remy couldn’t stop his gaze from finding Bijou, even when he knew his sister was trying to throw him off track. A faint blush stole up her cheeks. She looked thoroughly loved. Taken. Claimed. Her hair tumbled down her back in a blue-black cloud, held loosely by a single clip at the nape of her neck. She wore soft blue jeans riding low on her hips and a cotton top of pale pink that wasn’t quite pink but probably had some girlie name like mauve that complemented her skin perfectly. Both hands cupped her coffee mug, holding it in front of her like a shield.