“A sniper rifle to be precise,” Remy said. “And don’ worry about me. Be worried about him. He could have shot you or Bijou. You don’ mess with a man’s family.”

They crawled through the kitchen to Saria’s side of the Inn. She had a comfortable three-bedroom home attached to the Inn. On the wall nearest the kitchen, a small hutch was in the entry way. Gage and Remy got to their feet and quickly moved the hutch, opening the entrance to the passageway behind it. Saria scrambled in with Bijou close behind.

Remy caught Bijou’s shirt with his fist and pulled her to him. “Please, this one time, for me, do as Saria says. She knows the swamp like the back of her hand. She can lead you safely out of here. Don’ try to help us. Gage and I will take care of the problem. Dash will have alerted the other leopards and they’ll come runnin’ to protect you and Saria. Just follow Saria’s lead.”

Bijou nodded solemnly, her eyes enormous. She leaned in to brush a kiss over his mouth. There was no crying. No hysterics. No pleading. Just her quiet acceptance—and her trust in him. Faith and trust were priceless gifts. He wasn’t about to let her down.

“Be safe,” she whispered against his mouth.

Remy kissed her again and then moved away from her down the passage, all business. He stripped off his shirt as he went, removed his gun and zipped it into the pack every leopard carried, adding a few extra magazines, giving him plenty of ammunition for a war should he need it. He left his shoes and jeans by the entrance to the swamp.

The passageway was covered mostly by plants and trees and a lot of stonework, but few knew of its existence outside the family, so he was fairly certain no one was waiting. Remy shifted, allowing his large black leopard to take over. His sense of smell was acute and he would find the shooter quickly.

Gage was right behind him, and as they emerged into the damp swamp, he gave Remy room, flanking him and shifting to his left side. Almost at once, the leopard scented the intruder and the rank smell of gunpowder. Snarling, the cat went low, slinking along the ground, using its fluid, flexible spine and its large cushioned paws to move silently. He didn’t disturb a single leaf or branch of a bush. There was not the slightest of warnings that the male leopard was anywhere in the swamp.

Remy glanced sideways and saw that Gage’s cat had also gone to ground. Their quarry was up above them, in the crook of a cypress tree, but there was a second man, presumably spotting for the first. The stench of the Rousseau brothers filled his nostrils. The large cat snarled silently and began his approach, a freeze-frame motion, stalking his prey.