Savage Nature by Christine Feehan Page B

up to the house and retrieving a long hose. Again, she took her time, the shotgun in her fist as she sprayed down the areas where the battle had taken place. She was very thorough about it, obviously determined to remove all traces.
    She methodically wound up the hose, picked up the garbage sack containing Drake’s clothes before she took one last look around, nodded her head in satisfaction and went back into the house. Drake nearly turned away to go back inside, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone else had been observing Pauline. The shadowy figure was in the trees and the wind was blowing away from Drake so he couldn’t pick up a scent. His cat raised no alarm either, but there was no doubt something—someone—was in the tree just down at the water’s edge, closest to the dock.
    Drake eased his muscles into a slow, loose stretch. Every wound pulled, reminding him stitches didn’t work well if he had to shift again. He kept his gaze riveted to the branch that had barely moved. It had gone quiet again. An alligator bellowed somewhere across the lake. The reeds shimmered like a wave. The leaves in the tree did the same. Whoever it was, he moved with the wind, inching his way down the tree to the ground.
    The shadowy figure was smaller than he expected, crouching low, holding a rifle in one hand and a small case in the other. He reached under the balcony railing for the gun he’d taped there earlier. He was betting he was a better shot, but still, arrogance could get one killed. Had Robert Lanoux come back to finish the job? Robert was a large man with plenty of muscle. The figure crouching near the tree seemed too small. He eased the safety off and waited.
    Saria Boudreaux sprinted toward the trees nearest the inn, staying low and out of the sliver of moonlight. Even in the rain he recognized her easily with just that small glimpse. His heart stuttered as she slipped into the darker shadows, watching the house and the cypress grove.
    He pulled on the soft cotton drawstring trousers and a loose shirt from his bag as a precaution. Saria had been angling toward the trees closest to his room. He had no idea what she was up to, but he didn’t want her seeing the evidence of a leopard fight.
    It took her a few minutes before she raced to the tree just to the side of his balcony, the one he’d marked where the branch hung far enough over that he could jump into it without trouble. She used a strap around her neck and shoulder to free her hands from the case and rifle and she went up the tree fast. She was an adept climber and quiet, spidering up the branches easily and climbing high to reach parallel with the second story of the inn.
    He waited, heart in his throat, terrified she might fall, as she scooted out along the high branch. She got her feet under her and he could feel his mouth go dry and his pulse pound. He didn’t dare call out to her, afraid she might lose her balance if he surprised her. She crouched low and sprang toward his balcony. He leapt forward as well. She caught the balcony at the same time he caught both her wrists.
    She looked up at him, shocked, her eyes going wide. He could see the golden flecks in the dark of her eyes had nearly taken over, blotting out all that chocolate. Her female cat was close to the surface, and his leopard scented her again, that beautiful, alluring fragrance that nearly had pushed him over the edge.
    He pulled her easily onto the balcony. “Good evening. Nice of you to come calling,” he greeted, setting her on her feet.
    “You were supposed to be asleep,” she accused, sounding annoyed.
    “Were you planning on crawling into bed with me, or shooting me?” he asked.
    She gave a little sniff. “Shootin’ you might just be the best solution. I’m leanin’ in that direction.”
    He reached out, spanning her throat with the palm of his hand, tipping up her chin. “For future reference, Saria, you might remember, I can smell lies.”
    She