He entered the house. It was long and low and cool, built like a Spanish mansion. The verandah wrapped around the front and two sides, shaded by a roof held by thick columns. Inside the sprawling room was comfortable furniture and wide spaces he realized accommodated a wheelchair. Imelda didn’t seem the type of woman to accommodate anyone, least of all her aging grandfather, but Conner could feel the influence of the man in the house. There were large banks of sunny windows, although bars covered each of them. Plants grew tall and bushy inside as well as out. He could see the plants not only were beautiful, but in a way they would be functional in a battle. They were large enough to screen windows and provide cover for those inside. They’d also provide fuel for a fire should one happen to be started.

The older man sat waiting, a smile of welcome on his face. It slowly faded as he watched Isabeau walk toward him.

She brightened immediately when she saw him. “Mr. Cortez. How wonderful to see you again.”

Alberto Cortez held out both hands to her, forcing Imelda to drop her arm. Isabeau took his hands and leaned in to kiss both cheeks.

“I’m so glad you’ve joined us, my dear. I had hoped you would come.”

“I didn’t want to miss seeing your garden. The plants in here are magnificent.”

Imelda hissed out a long, annoyed sigh. “Grandfather. We have other guests.” She sent a small, apologetic smile to the men over her shoulder.

The old man smiled at the group of men. “Forgive me,” he said. “Isabeau is an enchanting woman. Welcome to our home.”

Imelda rolled her eyes but refrained from issuing another reprimand as both Marcos and Elijah shook hands with her grandfather.

“It’s good to see you again, sir,” Elijah said. “Isabeau is indeed an enchanting woman.”

“I trust you keep her well in hand,” Marcos said.

Elijah ran his gaze deliberately over Isabeau. “She managed to make her way here to the rain forest, far from our home, but I’ve come to collect her.”

As a chess move, Conner had to admit, Elijah’s simple statement was brilliant. He managed in that single sentence to imply he was ruthless enough to control his family with an iron hand and collect any strays who managed to slip away. Given that his sister had disappeared some time earlier, but had been recovered, Imelda would assume Elijah was very much like her, a cruel, possessive dictator who squashed rebellion immediately.

Isabeau played her part to perfection, actually moving a little toward Alberto, almost for protection, her eyes downcast, avoiding Elijah’s domineering gaze.

Alberto patted her hand absently. “You won’t mind me showing Isabeau the garden, will you? I had hoped to show off for her.”

There was a small silence while Elijah clearly debated.