Wild Fire (22 page)

“There’s much to tell you,” Gerald said. “And your mother’s book will bear out my words of truth.”

Conner gestured for him to put his hands down. “We have to be careful, Gerald. Someone tried to kill your brother last night.”

Gerald nodded. “I’m aware. And there was a division in the tribe on how to handle the situation with getting the children back.”

“Does that division include you, Will?” Conner asked.

“My son, Artureo, was taken,” Will said, “but I stand with my father. Nothing we do will ever be enough for Cortez if we don’t stop her now.”

Conner beckoned them forward. Gerald stepped away from the weapons, and walked toward Conner. Will followed him, looking far less hostile. They drew thin mats from the small packs they carried slung over their shoulders and laid them on the ground, lowering themselves into a vulnerable sitting position. Conner gave a small hand signal to the others, advising them to back off and simply watch.

“Thank you.” He took the book Gerald offered as he sat tailor fashion opposite them. “Will, it’s good to see you again, old friend.” He nodded his head toward the younger man. They’d spent a few years of their childhood playing together. The tribesmen took wives at a much earlier age, and by seventeen, Will had had the responsibilities of a son.

Will nodded his head. “I wish the situation was different.”

“I knew one of Adan’s grandsons was taken. This is about your son?”

Will glanced at his uncle and then shook his head, his eyes meeting Conner’s.

Conner braced himself for a blow. There was no expression on Will’s face, but there was a great deal of compassion in his eyes.

“No, Conner. This is about your brother.”

Conner’s first inclination was to leap across the small space separating them and rip out Will’s heart, but he forced himself to sit quite still, his gaze locked on his prey, and every muscle ready to spring. He knew these men. They were honest to a fault, and if Will said he had a brother—then Will believed it was truth. He forced air through his burning lungs, studying the two men, his fingers tightening around his mother’s book.

Isabeau had mentioned a child.
“Marisa came with the child” or something to that effect. His mother was always around children; he hadn’t thought much about that. He hadn’t inquired as to whose child it was.

“She would have told me if she had another child,” he said. He couldn’t imagine his mother hiding her child, not for any reason. But she had stayed near Adan’s village, even after he’d left. Could she have found love with a member of the tribe? He raised his eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.

“Not your mother’s child, Conner. A babe was brought to our village by a woman, one of your people. She didn’t want the child.”

Conner’s stomach lurched. He knew what was coming, and the child in him remembered that feeling of absolute rejection. Without thinking, he turned his head to look at Isabeau. He rarely felt the need of anyone, but in that moment, he knew he needed her support. She came out of the brush without hesitation, striding across the clearing, looking regal, her face soft, her eyes on him. She flashed a small smile and greeted the two tribesmen as she sank down close to Conner. She laid her palm on his thigh and he felt it burning there. He pressed his hand down over the top of hers, holding her to him while she looked at him.

He didn’t want that moment to end and the next to begin. She smiled at him, showing him without words she would support him whatever was coming. She knew he was upset, yet she didn’t ask a question, simply waited. His mother had been like that. Calm. Accepting. Someone to stand beside a man and face the worst. He wanted that trait in the mother of his children.

“My father had another child.” He made himself say the words aloud. Saying them served a dual purpose. Isabeau would understand, and he could better grasp the reality.

Will nodded. “You were already in Borneo. Your father had another woman and when she became pregnant, he told her she should abort or get the hell out. She wanted to stay with him, so she had the baby and gave him away. She went back to your father.”

“Damn him to hell. How many lives does he have to destroy before he’s satisfied?” Conner spat on the ground in disgust.

Isabeau shifted slightly, just enough to lean into him, as if shouldering whatever burden he had. He loved her for that small movement. His fingers tightened around hers, his thumb brushing back and forth in small caresses over the back of her hand.

“You know your mother, Conner,” Gerald continued. “She took one look at that child, without parents to love him, and she immediately bonded. She was living in the cabin with the baby part of the time and the village during the rainy season.”

“That’s why she was in the village,” Conner said.

Will nodded. “The boy was in Adan’s house playing with my cousin when Cortez’s men attacked. Your mother tried to stop them from taking the boys. They thought your brother was one of us. He’s only five, Conner.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell you about having a half brother?” Isabeau asked.

Conner hung his head. “She knew I would have gone to the village and killed that son of a bitch. I despise him. He uses the women and if they become pregnant, he throws away the child—and the woman—if she won’t get rid of it.”

The bitterness in his voice sickened him, but he couldn’t help it. He always had a handle on his emotions—except when it came to his father. The man hadn’t been physically abusive to Conner, but emotional abuse was far worse, in Conner’s opinion. It was like Marisa to put her child first and build a life for him. And she would have done the same for his brother, even though she hadn’t given birth to the boy. He knew he couldn’t do less.

He brought Isabeau’s hand to his jaw and rubbed absently over the faint shadow while he turned the problem over and over in his mind. If Imelda’s rogues took too close a look at the child they might recognize the leopard in him. With a female it was nearly impossible at a young age, but boys . . . one never knew when the leopard would emerge and there often were signs.

“What’s he like?” Conner asked.

Beside him Isabeau stirred, drawing instant attention. “What’s his name?”

Conner nodded and used the pads of her fingers to press tight against his throbbing temples. “Yes. I should have asked that.”

“Your mother called him Mateo,” Will said.

Conner swallowed hard, picturing his mother with the small baby. He should have known. Should have gone home to help her. “What’s he like?”

“Like you,” Gerald answered. “Very much like you. He will be grieving for your mother. He saw her killed.”

That wasn’t good. His leopard would try to emerge, to help the boy. Conner remembered the anger beating at him continually as a child, rage throbbing like a heartbeat in his veins. The boy would believe he had no one now. If he was like Conner, he would die before he could ever ask his father for help. He would want vengeance.

“Will Artureo be able to keep Mateo under control? Keep him from revealing his leopard even under duress?”

There was a small silence. “He’s a headstrong boy,” Gerald said. “And devoted to your mother.” He glanced uneasily at Isabeau.

“She knows everything,” Conner said. “You can talk freely.”

“One of the men shot her when she tried to get Mateo back. They thought she was dead.”

“I saw her go down,” Isabeau admitted. “Artureo hid me in the trees and ran to help. They took him too. I never saw her animal form. I didn’t know about her being leopard.”

“Marisa crawled into the brush and shifted to her other form,” Gerald said. “The big man, Suma is his name, I saw him shift and he finished her off. No one would go into the forest after them once he took his animal form. The boy saw his mother die, the only mother he’d ever known. I heard him scream, Conner, and it was awful to hear.”

Conner pushed down his own rising grief. His mother would expect him to get the boy back—not only get him back, but take full responsibility for him. He turned his head slowly to look at Isabeau. He had no choice now. He would have to do whatever it took, pay whatever price demanded of him.

Isabeau could see the despair in Conner’s eyes, the sorrow and shock. And the distance. Her stomach did a small warning somersault and settled slowly. “Whatever you need, we’ll help,” she offered.

He let go of her hand and inclined his head toward Gerald and Will. “I thank you for making the journey here to give me this news in person. Assure Adan we’ll get the children back. Tell him to keep to the plan. Will, I’ll find your son. You know me. I’ll bring him home.”

Will nodded his head, his eyes steady on Conner’s. “You’re the reason I’m siding with my grandfather on how to handle this. We’ll help should you need us.”

Conner stood up, reaching down to draw Isabeau to her feet beside him. He waited until the other two men stood as well. “We’re counting on your cooperation. It’s essential that your tribe believe Adan is going to do as Cortez wants.”

Gerald nodded and held out his hand. Conner watched them leave with a sinking heart. He almost forgot to give the signal for safe passage, allowing the two tribesmen to get through the gauntlet of leopards on their way back toward their village. Rio trotted up a few moments later, still pulling on his shirt.

“Forest is getting crowded. What’s the news?”

“This just got very personal. It seems I have a little brother and Cortez took him along with the other children. If she finds out he’s leopard . . .” Conner’s voice trailed off. They’d never find the child. She’d hide him away and raise him herself.

Rio frowned. “That should get us some help from your village . . .”

Conner spun around, the growl rumbling in his chest a clear warning. The sound burst from his throat, a fullthroated roar. “We will not go near that village. Let’s get this bitch done.” He spun on his heel and stalked across the clearing back toward the cabin.

Isabeau looked up at Rio. His frown had deepened and now there were worry lines etched into his face. “His father abandoned the child,” she explained. “You can’t let him go near that man.” In a way, she felt as if she were betraying Conner, but instinctively she knew Rio had the best chance of keeping Conner from doing anything rash.

“Thank you,” Rio said, as if reading her innermost thoughts. “I needed to know.”

Scent. Isabeau looked around her and realized the leopards relied on scent to judge emotions in situations. They could read a lot more than their human counterparts. All of them used their leopard senses even while in human form, which afforded them advantages in any situation. She needed to learn how to do that.

She followed at a much slower rate, turning over and over in her mind the expression she’d seen on Conner’s face. All the while she tried to recall his scent. What had gone through his mind in that moment? Resolution for certain. He was determined to get his brother and that meant . . .

She swallowed hard and stumbled a little. He’d told her he wouldn’t seduce Imelda Cortez. They were going to try another way in, perhaps using one of the others, but that look on his face . . . He’d made up his mind to use whatever means possible and he wouldn’t give the assignment to another—not when it was his own brother. Not when he believed his mother would expect it of him.
Conner was going to do exactly what she’d asked of him—seduce Imelda Cortez.

Her heart squeezed down so hard it felt like something had gripped it in a vise. The pain was excruciating, so much so that she brought both hands to her chest and pressed hard, going down on one knee there on the edge of the trees. Bile rose in her stomach and churned, threatening to explode along with her protest. Her throat felt raw, her eyes burned.

What else could he do? What would she do? She wanted to scream a denial, to race to his side and rake at him with the claws of a cat for shredding her heart all over again. She’d let herself fall in love with him again. No, that wasn’t true. She’d always loved him. She’d wanted him to come to her for forgiveness. She wanted him on his knees pleading with her and in the end she’d forgive him and they would live happily ever after.

He was supposed to love her so much he would never think of touching another woman. When he’d told her he wouldn’t try to seduce Imelda Cortez, she’d been secretly thrilled. She’d wanted that reaction. She’d needed him to chase her, to court her, to prove to her that she was his love—his only love. The cat had complicated things. Now she didn’t know if it was the cat he wanted, or her.

“Isabeau?” Conner was beside her, his arm sliding around her waist, shadows in his eyes. His gaze moved over her inch by inch, trying to find the reason for the pain. “What is it? Let me see.” His hands went to her shirt as if he might lift it up to examine her chest for signs of injury.

She pushed his hands down and circled his neck with her arms, locking her fingers behind his neck. She loved this man with everything in her. Childish behavior had to be over, now, before it was too late and she lost him forever. She’d been living in a dream world, not reality. Yes, he’d seduced her for all the wrong reasons, but
they
had been right. They were right. If he felt for her half of what she felt for him, he couldn’t have stopped himself any more than she could now.

“What is it,
Sestrilla
?” he whispered against her ear, holding her close to him just like she knew he would.

She could feel the care in his touch. The strength, yet gentleness. That soft word he called her, foreign, yet so loving the way it rolled off his tongue. “Tell me what that means.” She laid her head against his heart, listening to that steady, reassuring beat. “I need to know what that means.”

“Isabeau.” She heard the sound of sorrow. The sound of a heart breaking.

“Tell me, Conner.” She refused to let him go, even when his hands so very gently were trying to pry her from him. She strengthened her hold and pressed her body tight against his. “I need to know.”

“It’s an ancient word in our world and means ‘beloved one.’”

Her heart turned over, settled, everything in her simply became clear. He’d always called her
Sestrilla
, long before the first time he’d slept with her.