Wild Fire (34 page)

Leonardo and Rio also jumped out of the car, nearly before it stopped spinning, but they were searching the trees for a sniper, back to back, sharp gazes examining every inch of the canopy, using their animal senses for knowledge, rifles ready.

Conner was on the leopard before it realized he was even there, swiping at the heaving sides with a huge paw, knocking the furious cat away from Jeremiah’s torn body. Elijah sprinted through the trees as the two leopards came together, snarling, rolling, flexible spines nearly bent in half as they raked and tore at each other.

“Damn it, wake up, Isabeau!” Rio snapped. “Grab a rifle.”

His voice jerked her out of her shock. She didn’t hesitate, but yanked a rifle from the open trunk on the floor and jumped down. “Where?”

“Get as close as you can to them. If you get a shot, take it,” Rio ordered.

She ran across the intervening space, her heart in her throat. Just in her line of vision, Elijah bent and lifted Jeremiah, shifting him to his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Blood dripped down his arm and back. Puncture wounds dotted his body. Elijah flashed past her and to her dismay it looked as if Jeremiah wasn’t breathing.

A blood-streaked Suma leapt, twisting, using the leopard’s flexible spine to turn in midair as Conner went up on his hind legs and anchored claws in the hindquarters, yanking the leopard down. Suma nearly folded in half, slamming powerful claws into Conner’s neck and side. Conner rolled, ramming into Suma, knocking him off his feet so the two leopards were a tangle of fur, claws and teeth. The roar of the two male leopards filled the forest.

Isabeau put the rifle to her shoulder just as a shot rang out and bark splintered from a tree trunk where Conner had been a half second earlier. If he hadn’t rolled, the shot might have hit his head. Her gaze jumped to the trees, trying to find where the shot had come from.

Instantly, Rio and Leonardo sprayed the canopy in the distance, obviously having no problem figuring out the trajectory of the shot.

“Shoot the son of a bitch, Isabeau,” Rio yelled.

She jerked her attention back to the ferocious fight between the two leopards. They were locked together in mortal combat, rolling over and over, their tails lashing, the sounds horrifying. She felt almost surreal, as if she was in the throes of a nightmare and not real life. There was no way to get off a shot and not take a chance of wounding or killing Conner.

“I’m trying,” she snapped back.

With the two bodies wrapped so tightly around one another, she couldn’t distinguish one from the other. They looked like a dizzying sea of spots, blurring as they slammed into one another, broke apart and came together again. The eyes appeared as simply two more rosettes lost in the midst of a thousand spots, except for the intensity. Smoldering fire. Shocking intelligence. Cunning. Rage such as she’d never seen.

This was the man who had killed Marisa Vega, Conner’s mother. The sheer fury of Conner’s leopard drove the other leopard off his feet repeatedly. The claws tore great rips in the sides and belly. Suma shuddered and tried to escape, but Conner’s leopard would have none of it. He seemed oblivious to the rending tears in his own body; instead, he seemed determined to literally tear Suma to pieces. It was only Suma’s strength and experience, a male in his prime, that kept him from being instantly killed. He seemed to know he was in trouble, and Ottila, who, despite the assault from Rio’s and Leonardo’s rifles, kept up his own intermittent fire, trying to aid his partner.

“Damn it, Isabeau, we’re going to get caught out here. Fucking finish him,” Rio snarled.

Leopard emotions were intense, and right now, she couldn’t see how either was going to give ground. Blood ran down the sides of one of them, and she realized after the first heart-stopping moment that this was how to identify Suma. Jeremiah must have shot him. His own blood, and that of Jeremiah, coated the fur. The red streaks were beginning to transfer to Conner’s coat, but he had nowhere near the same amount on him.

She took a breath and concentrated, blocking out everything the way Conner had told her to. At first she heard the roars, and growls, the shots, another bullet scattering leaves and dirt beside the two leopards. Then she was in a tunnel and there was only the leopard’s blood-encrusted fur and her. No one else. Nothing else. She aimed for the back of the neck.

Her heart pounded. Her mouth went dry. She was terrified of hitting Conner. The two furious leopards moved so fast, tangled, came apart, tangled again. So fast. Too fast. If she shot the wrong one . . . She took another breath, willing the bullet to go exactly where she put it, and squeezed the trigger.

Suma reared up, his eyes yellow and raging with hatred. So much hatred. She shivered as Conner took advantage, slashing at the exposed belly, ripping deep. Suma tumbled over and lay still, his eyes open, staring at her. His tongue hung out, his sides heaving. Blood bubbled around his muzzle. Conner went for the kill, sinking teeth into the throat and holding, suffocating the leopard.

A volley of shots rained down, clipping Isabeau’s skirt, throwing up dirt around her, striking along Conner’s flank so that he roared and whirled to face his new enemy. His enraged gaze landed on her. Her heart skipped a beat and then began pounding. The leopard, with one last act of hatred and vengeance, ripped open the exposed belly, turned fully toward her and lowered his head into stalking mode, his gaze burning through her.

“Calm him down,” Rio shouted. “And both of you get the hell out of there. We can’t get to the shooter. The best we can do is keep him off you.”

“
Calm him down?
” she echoed, feeling a little faint. If Rio had been standing in front of her, she might have considered violence. “Are you crazy?”

The leopard, covered in blood, fur and flesh torn, crouched lower and took one step toward her in the freeze-frame motion that struck fear in the heart of prey. She knew, as long as she lived, she would never forget those piercing eyes, burning with pure rage. His muzzle and face were smeared with blood, as were his teeth.

“Conner.” Her voice shook. She lowered the muzzle of the rifle and held out her hand to him. “I’m so sorry, baby. It’s over now. Let’s get out of here. Come with me.”

The leopard snarled, his nose wrinkling into a savage display. His powerful jaw opened, showing his four canines prominently, teeth used to stab and hold prey during a kill. She knew that the gap behind each of the canines allowed the leopard to sink his teeth deep during a killing bite. His incisors could easily scrape flesh from bones and the side teeth could shear through skin and muscle like the sharpest of blades.

With each slow step, that powerful jaw and mouthful of teeth came closer to her until she felt the heat of his breath blasting her face. Again she pushed aside everything until there was only the leopard and her.

“Conner.” Deliberately she used his name, calling him back from the throes of black anger. There was no humanity in those eyes. No love, or recognition. “Conner.” She chose love over fear or anger, reaching for him with trembling fingers.

Before she could connect with him to sink her fingers into his blood-stained fur, he swiped at her with a large paw. A streak of fire raced up her arm. She gasped, for a moment unable to catch her breath with the staggering pain rushing up her arm. Fear shook her, but she refused to break the stare, summoning her cat.

Now or never, you little hussy. Deserting isn’t an option. Get out here and do your thing. Be alluring. Entice him into that car.

She tried to remember what she’d felt like in the garden when the wave of heat had rushed over her, leaving her desperate for a man between her legs. Right now, she wanted to run for her life, not stay facing this snarling beast. She didn’t dare look at her arm, but she consoled herself with the thought that he could have just as easily made that warning a killing swipe across her very vulnerable throat.

Her leopard pushed closer to the surface, not in the throes of passion, but with a female’s disdain of the male. She wasn’t in the mood and she didn’t want to be bothered. She leapt at the male, giving him a swipe of her own. As rebuffs went, it wasn’t very impressive, but it shocked the male cat almost as much as it did Isabeau.

“Whoops,” Isabeau withdrew her palm. It was stinging from the hard slap she’d delivered to the male’s snarling face.
Sheesh! Are you out of your freaking mind?
she demanded of her cat.
Way to soothe him, smart one.
“Sorry about that.”

The rage subsided a little in the burning eyes to be replaced by intelligence. She let her breath out, seeing that piercing, keen intellect was back. “Conner, there’s a sniper in the canopy. We have to get out of here. Now.”

He nudged her and she turned and ran, grateful for the covering fire Rio and Leonardo provided. She felt totally exposed with the leopard behind her and the sniper in the trees. She jumped into the SUV and scrambled all the way in to give the others as much room as possible. The leopard nearly crushed her, practically landing on top of her. He was already shifting, crawling into the third seat in the very back, where Elijah had Jeremiah stretched out, and was clearly breathing for him.

Leonardo entered and whipped around to help Marcos provide cover for Rio.

“Go!” Rio snapped as he slammed the door.

Before the word was out of his mouth, the SUV was fishtailing down the dirt road.

“How bad?” Grim- faced, Rio let himself look toward the very back. He couldn’t see Jeremiah, but Elijah and now Conner were working on him.

“He’ll need a doctor,” Conner called out. “There used to be a doctor, one of ours, my mother would take me to, but it’s been years. He lives about fifteen miles from the first cabin where we met.”

Rio glanced at his watch. “What do you think, Felipe?”

“I can make it in twenty minutes.”

“It will be close,” Conner said. “Your call, Rio.”

“He’d never be safe at a hospital. We know Imelda has too many people in her pocket. We just took out her number-one security. His partner is going to try to hunt us down. Jeremiah would be too vulnerable in a hospital. Do what you can to keep him alive.”

Isabeau pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from protesting. They knew more about Imelda’s operation than she did. They also knew the workings of a leopard’s mind. She curled into a ball and shook uncontrollably, unable to stop the waves of nausea that swept through her.

“What about the woman? Teresa?” she made herself ask.

Rio sent the woman a quick glance. “We have to make certain she stays out. Leonardo, get the medicine kit. There’s a knockout syringe in there.”

“That’s not what I meant. Why did you insist she come along?”

“She spent too much time with us and Conner defended her,” Marcos explained. “First, she was in danger from Philip. Did you see his face when Conner interfered? I think he would have killed her after the party. If not, he certainly would have hurt her. And if Imelda was watching the tapes and this thing goes bad, she might very well think Teresa was a plant. Either way, it seemed safer to remove her from the situation and get her out of harm’s way.”

Isabeau remained silent, drawing up her knees and clasping her arms around them.

Marcos sent her a small smile. “Did you think I was a perverted old man?”

“You played the part very convincingly,” she agreed, trying to smile back.

Rio looked at her for the first time. He made a sound, more leopard than human. “What the hell happened to you, Isabeau?” He yanked her arm out to look at the striped, welling blood. “Damn it, why didn’t you say something? This is likely to become infected fast.”

Conner raised up enough to look over the seat, his gaze narrowing on Isabeau’s arm. “What happened?”

“You don’t have any fucking control, you bastard,” Rio snarled, “that’s what happened.”

“I need you focused, Conner,” Elijah snapped. “We’re not losing this boy.”

Isabeau could see the anguish in Conner’s eyes, the apology, and then he was back behind the seat, focused once more on Jeremiah. She was grateful that he wasn’t looking at her. She needed to sort out all of her emotions. The entire evening had been horrendous.

She’d been the one to do this—to insist they go after Imelda Cortez. Nothing she’d seen tonight had made her change her mind—only strengthen her resolve—but she was unprepared for the level of immorality, the complete disregard for life, or even rights of other human beings. Imelda surrounded herself with despicable people. It was as though they recognized one another, gravitated toward each other in order to reinforce their own behavior.

She bit on her knuckles. She’d killed a man. Maybe Conner had finished him off, but she’d been the one to pull the trigger. She’d never thought, never imagined, in all of her dreams or nightmares, that she’d kill another living being. She’d watched the life go out of his eyes and it had sickened her, not thrilled her. Philip Sobre had all but come out and said he loved to torture and most likely kill his victims. For the thrill. She heard a sound, broken and lost, and realized it came from her own throat.

Rio leaned close to her with something in his hand. “This is going to hurt like hell.”

He didn’t wait, and the breath exploded out of her lungs as he pressed a cloth soaked in some fiery liquid to the streaks in her arm. He held it there while she focused on counting under her breath and struggling not to cry.

Marcos put a needle in Teresa’s arm and she moaned softly. He patted her. “You’ll be fine. You’re safe,” he reassured.

Isabeau wasn’t certain any of them would ever be safe again. Imelda seemed as if she were a bloated spider, spinning a web that encompassed everyone. All the party goers had been officials and high-ranking police officers and judges. They couldn’t fail to see people taking the servers to the upstairs rooms. Now they were afraid to even take Jeremiah to the hospital.

Rio removed the cloth and, ignoring her protest, held on to her arm to examine the lacerations. “They aren’t deep.” He said it loud enough for Conner to hear. “I’m going to use an antibacterial cream.” He said that to no one in particular, but when he began to apply the cream he forced Isabeau to look at him. “We have a poison in our claws, Isabeau. You can’t let this go. Be meticulous about cleaning it and apply the cream several times a day. I’m going to give you a shot of antibiotics, a very large dose, and then you have to make certain to take the entire bottle of pills.”