She shook her head, but Saria didn’t want to lie to him. She lifted her chin and looked him directly in the eyes. “Maybe. A little. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

He wrapped his palm around the nape of her neck. “I was careful for the most part. I didn’t want to really hurt anyone, just more like teach them a lesson.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not a violent man.”

Joshua, Jerico and Evan choked dramatically and began coughing.

Remy snorted. “And if you believe that, Saria, I’ve got a sinkhole I can sell you for farmland.”

“You’re not helping my cause,” Drake complained.

“Ignore them. I always do,” Saria advised. She swallowed, leaned closer and brushed her lips over his. The lightest of touches, but his body stirred—and damn it all—it hurt.

He swore there was a snicker coming from somewhere, but when he glared around the room, everyone was looking away. He rolled over very carefully, his breath hissing out of his lungs, his body on fire. “Fucking jackasses. I should have done a lot more damage.”

“Oh, I think they got the point,” Remy said. “When you stop fussin’ over that man, Saria, you can tell me where the photographs are. This time, I’ll get them.”

“I put them in the left top drawer in a case and hid the negatives away from here, just in case somethin’ happened.”

“Like someone killed you?” Remy demanded.

“Yeah. Like that,” Saria admitted, shrugging.

He swore under his breath, something about stubborn women who needed a man to take them in hand, as he stalked out. Drake turned his head and flicked a look at Joshua, who immediately trailed after him. Drake wasn’t about to take the chance that someone from the lair—or a killer—might try another sneak attack, not when his body needed time to recover.

Gage and Mahieu exchanged a long look. “No one would try to jump Remy,” Gage said. “He’s got a rep around here.”

“Maybe, but a bullet doesn’t care much about reputation and I’ve seen several of your neighbors all too ready to use a gun.” Drake didn’t bother to lift his head up again. His belly burned with every movement. He was getting too old to fight three or four challengers. Foolish males feeling their leopard’s drive did that sort of thing—or someone insane enough to crave leadership—which was not him.

He had to smile when he heard Remy’s voice. “What the hell are you doin’ tailin’ after me? You think I need a damn babysitter?”