Elijah sighed and entered the house, obviously on the alert. He was a shifter, a very good one, fast and efficient, a killer should there be need, but his clothes would hamper him, slow him down when he might need the speed against two fifty-pound leopards. He saw the eyes gleaming at him in the darkness. The two cats had separated and were waiting patiently. One crouched on the mantle, the other was belly to the ground beside the chair. Just waiting. Ears flat, lips snarling. Eyes glowing.

Rio felt the effects of traveling so many miles in such a short time. His body burned with fatigue. He hadn’t had the necessary time to recoup after donating more blood than he could afford. Franz had called him from a distance, alerting him to the danger to Rachael. Rio slugged down the orange juice and rushed out, not taking the time to rest from the dizzying blood loss. The trip back had been a nightmare, terror choking him. He pushed the swift-moving leopard to the limit, racing across the miles even when the beast burned for air.

“Rio?” Rachael’s voice was a soft concern. “Come sit down. Between your arsenal and my brother’s, we have enough weapons to start a war. If any other neighbor comes calling, begging for sugar, I say we should just shoot them.”

“We can’t do that,” Rio protested. “Tama’s bound to come looking for his stray researcher.”

Elijah pushed his hand through his hair. “That guide is a pain in the butt. I had to have a couple of my men create a minor catastrophe in order to get his eyes off of me.” He stepped cautiously around the chair and sank onto the sofa.

“The garrote.” Rio ordered as he caught up a pair of jeans and stepped into them. “Take that off too.”

Rachael’s eyebrows flew up. “Elijah, you can’t be carrying a garrote.”

“I forgot about it.” Elijah reached up to remove the necklace from around his throat. He handed it to his sister to be added to the growing stockpile of weapons.

Rachael heaved an exaggerated sigh. “The two of you are crazy.”

“Probably,” Rio conceded. He took the glass of water she gave him and tipped the entire contents down his throat. “I take it Elijah didn’t try to kill you.”

“Tony was working for Armando.” She busied herself making coffee so she wouldn’t have to look at either of them. Her hands were shaking. Her knees felt weak. She had dreaded this moment for so long and now she didn’t know how to feel. She almost didn’t trust the relief sweeping through her and she was afraid she might start crying all over both of them. “You had it figured out. Elijah is a shifter.”