Savage Nature (41 page)

“When Elijah and Jeremiah followed the boat, they recovered several soaps with a small ball of opium in the center. The soaps were Mercier soaps, Saria,” Drake said.

Her head snapped up. She stepped away from him and turned off the shower, yanking at a towel. “Just when had you planned on tellin’ me that?”

She was angry. For one moment her eyes had blazed fire at him. He felt the quick jerk of his cock in reaction. She turned away, toweling the moisture from her body, but he could feel the heat from her body, and the rise of aggression in his body in direct proportion to the passion in hers. She made him feel so alive. He wanted to kiss her, but Saria Boudreaux was close to being fully leopard and she was every bit as dangerous as a female cat enticing a male. Her claws and teeth could be lethal.

“When we knew for certain the Merciers had to be involved. We were all over the swamp last night. The Tregres have two shacks on their land besides their home. The roads in and out are rarely traveled. No one is making soaps there or inserting drugs into the middle of them, Saria. You saw the property.”

She straightened up, looked him right in the eye and threw the towel on the floor. “Charisse is not capable of doin’ what you’re accusin’ her of, and in spite of the fact that Armande Mercier is a selfish bastard a lot of the time, he isn’t either. You don’t know them the way I do.” She stomped into the bedroom, caught up her only other pair of jeans and yanked them on. “I’m runnin’ out of clothes and need to go home.”

His heart stuttered. She was angry. Magnificent in her loyalty, but angry with him. Thinking about retreating. He stayed silent and picked up his jeans rather than pickg her up and tossing her onto the bed. His leopard roared for supremacy, eager for the chase, but Drake was much more cautious. Saria was a woman who went her own way.
He
had to be her choice, first and always. Her fierce loyalty had to be to him. She didn’t give loyalty or trust easily and yet she gave it to Charisse. There was something more going on here than he had first realized and he needed to dig a little deeper.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he dressed. She was pacing, all pent up restless energy, her anger driving her in spite of the exhaustion he could see on her face. When she crashed, she was going to crash hard. He took a deep breath to still his prowling leopard.

“Clearly I need to get to know Charisse better. If you stand for her, Saria, there must be a lot more to her than I know. Everything points to her. The scent expertise, the disturbing flower, the lack of scent at crime scenes, the opium, all of it, and yet in the face of all the evidence, you persist in believing in her innocence. I trust you and your judgment. If you think she’s innocent . . .”

“I
know
she is,” Saria defended staunchly. “Someone is setting her up to take the fall. Charisse wouldn’t know a setup anymore than she would be capable of being a drug dealer. She’s childlike in a lot of ways.”

Drake nodded his head, trying to put
childlike
with the woman who had approached them on their picnic in her pencil-thin skirt, high-heeled boots and silk blouse that clung to and accented every curve. Charisse had appeared poised and confident, polished even. Her nails were perfect, her slender legs encased in silk, and her makeup impeccable . . . until her brother had snapped at her. She’d cried like a child and Saria had comforted her. That had seemed affected and out of character to Drake. Which was the real Charisse?

“I’ll keep an open mind,” he promised. He had no idea how he was going to accomplish that, but he would try—for Saria—he would try. He knew if she was wrong it was going to be a terrible blow to her, and he had a terrible feeling in the pit of his belly that Saria didn’t have very many people in her world that she loved as much as she obviously did Pauline and Charisse.

Saria dragged a comb through her hair. “I would appreciate that. I know you feel the evidence is damnin’, Drake, but it really is all circumstantial.”

He refrained from pointing out that Charisse was the brilliant chemist and clearly the brains in the Mercier family. Arguing would only cause Saria to dig her heels in. He didn’t want the hole to be so deep that if she was proved wrong, she couldn’t get out of it.

Saria walked down the stairs with him, but she didn’t hold his hand. She even walked a step behind him. His leopard roared at him, angry with the small separation between them and Drake couldn’t help but agree. He’d been damned diplomatic. The tension pouring off Saria didn’t help soothe his leopard either. His female’s care was paramount at all times and dissention just didn’t work between leopards. It made the shifter edgy, moody, difficult to deal with—not a good circumstance for him when he was about to sit down with what probably was a criminal mastermind.

At the bottom stair he turned abruptly, blocking Saria from stepping down. His hands settled on her waist. “Kiss me.” It was an order, not a request, and he frankly didn’t care how it came out.

She pulled back subtly. “Here?a step behe are people in the next room. The door’s open.”

“Right here. Right now. I need to know you’re with me. Kiss me. Kisses don’t lie, Saria. I need this.”

Saria’s enormous eyes widened. Darkened. Her long lashes fluttered. Her fingers linked behind his neck and she leaned her body into his. “Kisses don’t lie? All right then. If you’re certain you need this.”

She didn’t wait for him. She took his mouth, her lips brushing gently across his, her tongue teasing the seam of his so that he opened his mouth immediately to her. The world dropped away. The anger. The tension. There was only the pouring of love from her mouth to his. He took her passion—her unspoken commitment to him—straight to his heart and locked it up tight.

“Saria! How very unseemly of you.” The female voice hissed with displeasure.

Saria didn’t startle or pull away from him. She finished kissing him as though no one had interrupted them, her mouth loving his. When she lifted her head, she looked only at him—straight into his eyes. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles before turning to face the woman who had spoken.

Drake thought he was beyond all shock. He had traveled the world and seen a lot of sights, but Iris Lafont-Mercier was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. It was the last thing he expected. She looked young enough to be Charisse’s sister. He knew leopard women often aged gracefully and even if Charisse was in her early twenties, Iris had to be fifty or more. Her skin was perfection, without a single wrinkle. Her hair was a thick mass of spun gold and if there was gray, it looked like threads of silver among the gold. She had a beautiful figure, looking as if she’d never had a child in her life.

She was waiting for his reaction. She was used to the admiration of men and counted him as no exception. There was no doubt in his mind that Iris manipulated every single man in her life without mercy. Drake kept his expression absolutely blank, nor did he allow his eyes to flick over her with any interest.

“You must be Mrs. Mercier,” he said deliberately.

Saria’s fingers dug into his palm, but he only brought her hand to his chest, pressing it right over his heart in reassurance. Had she trembled? Could Saria be a little afraid of Iris Mercier’s sharp tongue?

“It’s Iris
Lafont
-Mercier, actually,” Iris replied in a slightly superior tone. “Pauline is my sister. Our family can be traced back hundreds of years.”

“Drake Donovan, ma’am,” he said. “Miss Pauline has mentioned you.”

“I came to see you,” Iris stated firmly. “We can go into the parlor and speak in private.”

“Saria and I are engaged, Mrs. Mercier . . . Lafont-Mercier. You know as well as I do, leopards don’t have secrets from their mates. Privacy is unnecessary.”

For a moment those cool blue eyes blazed a deep turquoise, but Iris’s perfectly painted mouth curved into a bright smile. “If you insist. This is lair business and I understand you defeated old Amos.”

She made it sound as if Amos Jeanmard had been well past his prime and Drake hd taken undue advantage. He pressed Saria’s hand to keep her from defending him.

“If it is lair business, all the more reason for Saria to be there.”

Iris’s eyes narrowed. Clearly it hadn’t occurred to her that if Drake married Saria, she would be the alpha female.

“That’s just preposterous. Saria Boudreaux is little more than a child. She’s certainly not equipped to help you run a lair.” The bite to Iris’s voice was well-practiced and effective.

Drake tightened his hold on Saria’s hand when he felt her tremble. He bared his teeth at Iris, his look anything but a smile.

“Fortunately for everyone, Saria is wise beyond her years and knows more about the people and the swamp itself than most in the lair. I am very lucky she is my mate.” He gestured toward the living room where he knew her children and Pauline waited. “We’ll talk in there. My men are tired and need to eat before they retire. I don’t want to disturb them.”

Iris went ramrod stiff and turned her back to him, sweeping from the room, her hips an enticement in spite of her obvious anger. She used her sexuality without even being aware of it anymore, it came so natural to her.

Charisse’s beauty seemed to pale in comparison to her mother’s. She looked washed out in the vibrant colors she wore and her hair was pulled back in too severe of a style. Drake hadn’t remembered her that way, but she sat quietly subdued, hands folded in her lap, looking straight ahead. She glanced up at Saria and sent a small smile of welcome, glanced at her mother’s set face and quickly looked down again.

“Where are you manners, Charisse?” Iris demanded. “Is it too much to ask that you greet the leader of the lair when he walks into the room? Or are you deliberately trying to make me look as if I haven’t taught you anything?”

Charisse’s face flamed red. She moistened her lips, looked helplessly at her brother and swallowed hard. When she lifted her face, tears swam in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Donovan. It’s nice to see you again. Saria, good morning.”

Drake noticed Armande was not taken to task. He had a choice of greeting them and adding to his sister’s misery, or simply nodding his head in their direction. He nodded and shifted subtly, turning his body a bit protectively toward Charisse. Drake liked him better for it, and could see why Saria forgave him quite a lot.

Drake took the small sofa across from Charisse and Armande, settling Saria beside him. “Where’s Pauline this morning?”

“Makin’ herself a slave to her guests,” Iris said caustically. “Why she turned our family home into a bed-and-breakfast when she didn’t need the money, I’ll never know.”

“She enjoys the company,” Saria answered, her voice deceptively low. “And cookin’ for her guests is a good deal of her fun. I’m surprised you don’t know that about her.”

Iris pressed her lips together tightly, her blue eyes narrowing. “I see your manners haven’t improved any, Saria, but I expect nothing less of you.”

“I suppose you think it’s perfectly okay to be rude because you’re so much older,” Drake said very softly. His voice carried a low menace.

Charisse went white, moving closer to her brother for protection. Her breath hitched audibly. Armande put his arm across the back of the sofa, around her shoulders. Iris went very still and her blue eyes glittered dangerously. Two high spots of color appeared in her cheeks.

Before the woman could retort, Drake sighed. “I know you must have come over this early for something important, so let’s get to it. I’ve been up all night acquainting myself with the area and I’m hungry and need to sleep. How can I help you?”

Iris pressed her lips together hard in a gesture of complete displeasure before she relaxed and nodded her head. “Yes. You’re right. This is a lair matter and must be dealt with. My son was viciously attacked by Remy Boudreaux and I demand justice.”

Drake stared at her a long time without expression, deliberately allowing the silence to stretch until the room was taut with tension. He slowly turned his head toward Armande. His vision banded and he knew his eyes had gone cat. To have a man dare to hunt Saria with a gun,
fire
it at her, hunt him and then hide behind his mother. It took every ounce of discipline to keep from leaping across the room and slashing a claw across the coward’s throat.

“Is this true?” His voice came out as a growl.

Armande flushed a deep red. He glanced at his mother and shook his head. “No, sir. It is not.”

“Then I believe we are done here.”

Iris hissed out a breath. “No we are not. Look at him. He can barely walk. His chest is black and blue. He’s tryin’ to protect the very man who nearly killed him.”

“In a lair, Mrs. Mercier, the male leopards settle things in their own way. We can’t go to the police and if someone commits a crime against another member of the lair—particularly a female—he can be ostracized—driven from the lair—or killed. That is our system of justice and has been for hundreds of years.”

“My son has never committed a crime,” Iris snapped. “You’re protectin’ Remy Boudreaux because of Saria. And I have told you
repeatedly
, it’s Lafont-Mercier,
not
Mercier.”

Drake turned a predator’s stare on Iris. “We’re done here, Mrs. Lafont-Mercier. And if you’re not willing to abide by my decisions, you are welcome to leave the lair. In fact, you have no choice but to leave the lair.”

“This is my home, not yours.” Iris leapt to her feet, clutching her handbag like a weapon. She glared at Armande, clearly expecting him to come to her aid.

“Not if you don’t accept the leadership. Of course you could always push your son to challenge me. I would kill him, but maybe that’s what you want. You don’t seem to listen to him even when he gives you the truth.”

Iris’s eyes brimmed with tears. She sank back down and looked helplessly for a tissue. “That’s a horrible thing to say to me. I love my son—my children. He came home so broken. He’s not a fighter. He wasn’t raised to be so—so
crass.
He has a good position in our company and works hard. Remy Boudreaux is a bully. Everyone is afraid of him. All the Boudreaux boys grew up rough. You don’t know because you’ve just arrived here. Saria will tell you that I’m tellin’ the truth. Everyone is afraid of her brothers.”