“I was showing Bijou a nest I’ve been taking a series of photographs of. I landed a really big contract with a company that provides stock photos and they wanted the swamp at all hours along with the wildlife and plants,” Saria answered. “I’m supposed to capture the feel of the swamp throughout all seasons.”

Remy swallowed his sarcastic reply. Sending in the pictures of the murder would certainly show the company that gave his baby sister the contract what kind of danger they put her in, but Saria would ignore his bad humor and good advice. She went her own way and made her own decisions. He couldn’t blame her. Maybe it was guilt that made him so overprotective of her now. When she was a child running wild and free in the swamp, he hadn’t paid attention. Like Bijou, she hadn’t had supervision and she’d been the adult in the home, not her drunken father.

“Remy.” Saria sounded loving.

He looked up at her. She looked so young, but so adult. Just like Bijou. Of course they’d gravitated toward one another and been secretive about it. For good reason. He sighed.

“I had a good childhood,” she said. “Stop beating yourself up. I love that you want to protect me, but I’m all grown up now. You can’t take care of all of us.”

“I can damn well try,” Remy replied. His gaze jumped to Bijou’s face.

She sent him a faint smile. “I see why you were so insistent on me explainin’ the threats. You have a strong protective instinct, but really, Remy, you have enough family to look after without addin’ me to the mix.”

He wished that was all it was. “Don’ kid yourself, Blue,” he snapped without thinking.

Color swept into her face and she frowned at him. The hell with it. Let her figure it out on her own. Clearly, no matter how often he told himself she was a baby, his body said other things. He was leopard enough to know there was more going on than he could see. Instincts were strong in leopards and never once had he found himself in such a predicament.

Saria stared at him in shock. She looked from Bijou to Remy and shook her head, dropping into a chair.

“Tell me about your mother, Bijou,” Remy ordered, slipping the photographs into an envelope without more than a cursory inspection. He had no doubt they were excellent. Saria’s skills were known throughout the country, her reputation building fast. He didn’t want to distress Bijou any further.