It took several minutes for her world to right itself, and she was able to straighten again without her legs going rubbery on her, although her back protested with a fierce burning. She breathed through it and carefully bandaged the puncture wounds on her shoulder. She couldn’t do anything about her back and knew whatever she wore would be ruined, so she pulled on an old shirt and soft sweatpants.

She couldn’t just go to bed and hide beneath the covers, she had to get rid of her shredded clothes. She picked up the jacket and shoved it in the sinkhe shirt. Her brothers would smell them if she didn’t do something about the blood before she threw them away. The only thing she could think to do was pour bleach over them, which she did. She left them to soak while she went to get water and some aspirin.

The scent of bleach and blood had permeated the bathroom by the time she returned. This was not going to work. The bleach would definitely mask the scent on her clothes, but her brothers would be suspicious. She rinsed the shirt and jacket and cleaned the sink. She would take the clothes out to the swamp and burn them.

Saria tried to still her chaotic mind long enough to think the situation through as she slipped out of the back of the house and into the thick grove of trees toward the swamp. Why hadn’t the leopard killed her? The shifter knew she had found the body. Wouldn’t it have been simpler just to kill her—unless the killer was one of her brothers and he couldn’t bring himself to kill a family member.

“Saria! Where the hell are you, cher?”

Her heart jumped at the sound of Remy’s voice calling from the back porch. Lately, he’d been checking several times a night to make certain she was in her room.

Swearing to herself, she hastily dug a hole and shoved the tattered remnants of her clothing into it. She had to answer. He would have seen her pirogue tied to the dock and he would come looking for her. “I’ll be right in,” she called as she buried the evidence. “I just was getting a little air.”

“Hurry up, Saria, you shouldn’t be out alone at night in the swamp.” His voice was always gentle. That was Remy, but under all that soft, black velvet, there was steel. She knew he’d come after her if she didn’t get inside.

She dusted off her hands and pushed up. “I’m coming. No worries. I’m tired tonight.”