“The boxes go through customs,” Saria defended, lifting her face to the sky so that the rain washed away her anger. She liked Charisse and Armande. They donated money to schools, to the church and were huge in the community, more than most other members of the lair. They odd, but Charisse in particular had always been a friend to Saria.

“Fancy soaps and perfume. Customs stamps them and off they go, with that nice little ball of opium right in the center of the soap.”

Saria shook her head. “They have drug-sniffin’ d—” She broke off, her heart jumping suddenly. If a leopard couldn’t find the scent of another leopard, then maybe whoever was creating scents could find a way to mask a scent.

Her breath hitched in her lungs. She shook her head, her eyes suddenly burning with tears. The world was shifting out from under her. Of course all the evidence would point directly to Charisse. She was the genius behind the scents. But Saria knew Charisse. She was very childlike in some ways. Saria could almost believe that Armande might be that greedy, his mother had certainly indulged him, but Charisse . . . Saria shook her head.

Although, Armande didn’t have the talent Charisse had with scents. Nor did he have ambition or drive. Yet he was devoted to Charisse. He protected her from the bullies at school. She’d been the smart one, advancing to higher grades too fast to catch up emotionally. She just wasn’t capable of running drugs on an international level. It wasn’t in her makeup and Saria didn’t care how much proof Drake and his team gathered against her.

On the other hand, if someone was harvesting opium from Charisse’s poppies, how could she not know? Saria stared straight ahead, aware of the silence in the boat. They’d all come to the same conclusion as she had. If a leopard couldn’t be scented, then someone had developed a way to prevent dogs from sniffing out drugs—and that someone had to be Charisse.

“You’re wrong, Drake,” she said in a low voice. “I know everythin’ points to her, but she isn’t capable of what you suspect. You’re way off base.”

“I hope you’re right, honey,” he said gently.

She hated the compassion in his voice. She glanced over her shoulder at his set face. “Charisse is incapable of drug runnin’.”

Drake slipped his arm around her waist. “And her brother?”