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.”

Her eyes met his. “Did Conner get an infection when I raked him with my claws?” Reminding him. Angry with him. He was team leader and it was his job to keep them all in line, even grieving leopards, but she was still angry with him.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, accepting her anger. “Yes he did, in spite of the antibiotics. But they saved his life, and they’ll do the same for you.”

She pressed her lips together. He’d gotten an infection. She hadn’t been there for him. And if Rio was worried about some little scratches on her arm, what about Jeremiah and Conner? Both were covered in bites, claws marks and punctures. She’d caught a glimpse of Conner’s body before he’d leapt over the backseat, and he’d looked torn up to her.

“Isabeau! Are you paying attention to me? This is serious.”

She looked at him without really seeing him, but forced herself to nod. She could hear Elijah breathing for Jeremiah, slow and steady, but knew he was tiring.

“Get the IV to me,” Conner said. “I need a vein. We can’t take a chance of him crashing and losing his veins.”

Rio turned his attention to the men in the backseat, passing Conner everything he needed from the medical kit. Marcos patted her leg. “Just breathe. You’re in shock.”

She had considered that. She’d felt a little this way when she’d realized Conner had seduced her to get close to her father—that he wasn’t the man he’d pretended to be. Now, of course, she knew he was exactly that man. He might have changed his name, but he’d been dangerous and intense and wholly committed to what he was doing. He had the same sense of humor and the same dominant nature. He was leopard and all the traits that she’d fallen in love with were still there.