“When the world finds out about Iris Lafont crawlin’ after Buford Tregre, killin’ his women, killin’ her son’s women and so desperate she had to stoop to seducin’ boys her daughter dated and then killin’ them, everyone will laugh every time the name Lafont is mentioned.”

Iris shrieked, spittle flying from her mouth. Her face contorted, elongated, teeth filling her mouth and fur mottling her skin.

“Drop!” Saria called, throwing herself to the side with amazing speed.

Boneless, like a supple cat, Charisse slid to the floor as Iris hurtled the knife at Saria. Simultaneously, Drake squeezed the trigger. A single hole blossomed in the middle of Iris Lafont-Mercier’s forehead. She lay on the dirt floor in a crumpled heap, looking small and somewhat macabre with her face half leopard and half woman.

Armande screamed, but he rushed to his sister, leaving his mother crumpled on the floor. He gathered Charisse into his arms, their sobs filling the small space. Saria sat on the floor looking up at Drake, sorrow in her eyes, blood dripping from her upper arm.

“She was fast,” she admitted.

Drake was on her in seconds, clamping his hand over the wound. It couldn’t have been more than a flesh wound, but it was terrifying to him.

“Call an ambulance,” Remy commanded. “We need it now.”

Epilogue

Epilogue

“ARE you going to say somethin’?” Pauline asked.

Saria looked at Drake, tears swimming in her eyes. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo, the cut of the jacket emphasizing his wide shoulders and deep chest. Saria Donovan. There was no hyphenating her last name, although she had teased him that she wasn’t certain she would change her name to his. He had given her that golden, glittering glare that always sent a multitude of butterflies winging away in her stomach and she’d laughed at him.

Saria swallowed hard and looked down at the deed she held in her hand. Her wedding present. Pauline had given her the inn and the surrounding acres of land as a gift. An incredible, impossible-to-accept gift. She held the deed out to Drake. He took it slowly, as if the paper might explode in his hands.

“Pauline,” he began and then cleared his throat and looked at Saria as if for help.

Saria shook her head, tears spilling over. “I don’t know what to say.”