Ignoring the others, as well as the older man coming up behind him, he sent her a small, taunting smile. “If your man objects to you showing me around, Ms. Boudreaux, perhaps you could recommend another guide.”

Saria turned, color creeping up her neck. He found it charming, even alluring, and he felt a bit guilty for manipulating her aolor swept into her face.

Her eyes glittered, more amber than brown. “Monsieur Lanoux is not my man. I’m your guide, Mr. Donovan, and no one is takin’ the job from me.”

She pushed past Dion, stalking toward him, her shoulders stiff with outrage. She actually shoved against Robert as she passed him, her shoulder hitting his. She was a little thing, but solid, and she had surprised, even shocked, the male. She rocked him, Drake saw with satisfaction. His grin widened, and he allowed admiration to flair for a moment in his eyes. He loved her accent and he noted it got stronger when she was angry, something well worth remembering.

Saria picked up his bag and pointed the way into the grove with it. At the same time, she glared at the brothers. “I’m quite capable of keeping us safe in the swamp.”

“Your brothers . . .” Dion began.

“Mind their own business, as you should,” she snapped back. “Good evening, Mr. Jeanmard,” she greeted the older man as she continued walking down the winding path into the trees.

She was magnificent. Drake found himself smiling even as he recognized the newcomer was definitely leopard. He followed Saria, resisting the cat’s desire to roar his triumph to the other males. Sometimes, my friend, using brains is far better than brawn, he soothed his cat. We’re close now. It will be soon. The swamp called to the wildness bred into his bones.

“What was that back there?” he asked, knowing she would wonder if he didn’t. “Are they upset because you got the work instead of them?”

“I take customers into the swamp all the time,” she said. “I don’ know what got into them. They aren’t related to me and we don’t date, so don’ worry about it.”

Drake glanced to his right without turning his head. Dion Lanoux paced beside them several yards away, winding in and out of the thicker stand of trees. To his left, Robert Lanoux did the same thing. There was no doubt their cats had scented his. This was going to be one very interesting investigation. More than anything else, he needed to find out just how big the lair was, how many members, and if one of them had become a serial killer. He glanced at the woman leading the way through the grove. She walked with confidence, but she was nervous. Twice her hand brushed the hilt of the knife and she sent several surreptitious glances into the surrounding trees.

“I don’t want to make trouble for you,” he said.