She relaxed a little, letting out her breath. “Just be careful, Remy. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Gage complained.

Saria laughed. “Not exactly, brother. You’re the clever one who pegged the Rousseaus for the break-ins.”

“No one beats up the elderly on my turf,” Gage snapped, the smile fading from his face.

Remy looked away quickly. He was proud of Gage, more than proud of the man his brother had become. Gage carried the confidence of the people in his parish for a reason. “No, they don’t, brother,” he murmured and raised his coffee cup.

The sound of a leopard roaring nearly shook the house, sending chills down Remy’s spine. He dove at Bijou, knocking her from her chair, taking her to the floor as Gage did the same to their sister. The bullet went straight through the dining room window, through the picture on the far wall so that glass splintered and sprayed down.

“That was Dash callin’ out a warning,” Remy hissed. “Move, crawl to the kitchen. Stay low. Saria, there’s a safer room in your quarters. Take Bijou and go there, but both of you be ready to shift if you have to. You have guns stashed, Saria?”

Saria nodded. “I prefer my knife.”

“There’s the saying about don’t take a knife to a gunfight,” Gage pointed out. “We’ll leave Dash to watch over you. Hopefully Drake and the boys are on their way back.”

Remy pushed Bijou’s bottom lower as she began to crawl after Saria. “Use your elbows and toes to propel yourself forward.”

Gage pushed the dining room door open to allow them to pass through. Two more bullets hit the door.

“Where are you going?” Bijou asked as they scuttled through.

“Hunting,” Remy said grimly. “It’s what I do best.” He put his hand on her bottom and shoved. “Keep moving. Get into Saria’s main livin’ quarters.”

“You can’t go after him as a leopard,” Saria protested. “He has a gun.”

“A sniper rifle to be precise,” Remy said. “And don’ worry about me. Be worried about him. He could have shot you or Bijou. You don’ mess with a man’s family.”

They crawled through the kitchen to Saria’s side of the Inn. She had a comfortable three-bedroom home attached to the Inn. On the wall nearest the kitchen, a small hutch was in the entry way. Gage and Remy got to their feet and quickly moved the hutch, opening the entrance to the passageway behind it. Saria scrambled in with Bijou close behind.

Remy caught Bijou’s shirt with his fist and pulled her to him. “Please, this one time, for me, do as Saria says. She knows the swamp like the back of her hand. She can lead you safely out of here. Don’ try to help us. Gage and I will take care of the problem. Dash will have alerted the other leopards and they’ll come runnin’ to protect you and Saria. Just follow Saria’s lead.”

Bijou nodded solemnly, her eyes enormous. She leaned in to brush a kiss over his mouth. There was no crying. No hysterics. No pleading. Just her quiet acceptance—and her trust in him. Faith and trust were priceless gifts. He wasn’t about to let her down.

“Be safe,” she whispered against his mouth.

Remy kissed her again and then moved away from her down the passage, all business. He stripped off his shirt as he went, removed his gun and zipped it into the pack every leopard carried, adding a few extra magazines, giving him plenty of ammunition for a war should he need it. He left his shoes and jeans by the entrance to the swamp.

The passageway was covered mostly by plants and trees and a lot of stonework, but few knew of its existence outside the family, so he was fairly certain no one was waiting. Remy shifted, allowing his large black leopard to take over. His sense of smell was acute and he would find the shooter quickly.

Gage was right behind him, and as they emerged into the damp swamp, he gave Remy room, flanking him and shifting to his left side. Almost at once, the leopard scented the intruder and the rank smell of gunpowder. Snarling, the cat went low, slinking along the ground, using its fluid, flexible spine and its large cushioned paws to move silently. He didn’t disturb a single leaf or branch of a bush. There was not the slightest of warnings that the male leopard was anywhere in the swamp.

Remy glanced sideways and saw that Gage’s cat had also gone to ground. Their quarry was up above them, in the crook of a cypress tree, but there was a second man, presumably spotting for the first. The stench of the Rousseau brothers filled his nostrils. The large cat snarled silently and began his approach, a freeze-frame motion, stalking his prey.

“I can’t see anything,” Juste reported. “We should get out of here.”

“They’re pinned down,” Jean snapped.

“They can get out the front of the house, and no doubt they’ve called in reinforcements. We’ll have helicopters looking for us,” Juste said, the voice of reason.

“I say we go to the house and put a bullet in their heads. I want to kill the whole damn family. Wipe them out. And then I’ll take my time with the women and beat them with my hands. It’s been too long since I’ve had that pleasure,” Jean said, and wiped his mouth as if the very thought made him drool in anticipation.

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” Juste laughed, but his voice was strained. “Jean, we’ve got to go while we can. We’ll come back and kill them, but not now.”