Wild Cat (Leopard People 7)

"She saw me tonight," he admitted. He pressed his fingers to his eyes. "She saw who I am. What I am."

"What you were," Drake emphasized. "Even then, it wasn't you, Elijah. That was never you."

"Don't kid yourself, Drake. It's me. It will always be me. Whatever I could have been was gone the moment I was born into that family. I am what they made me. And I chose to do this work, believing in it. I didn't know the gods were going to hand me Siena. She's my miracle and my punishment all rolled into one. I can't let her go and I have to live with the knowledge of what I am, what she has in her bed, every fucking minute."

He didn't give a damn if he sounded bitter. Siena deserved a normal life and she wasn't going to get it.

"You knew when you made the decision there was no getting out. You laid that out for Joshua, and you emphasized that. More than once. This kind of thing, Elijah, the only way out is death. They would hunt you to the ends of the earth. I'd try to protect you, but sooner or later, they'd get you. Your best protection is to be stronger than anyone else, have enough allies. We're building that. We're almost there."

"I know that," Elijah said. "Doesn't make it any easier when she's looking at the monster and not seeing the man."

"She still in your bed?"

Elijah's gaze hit Drake's. He nodded slowly.

"Then she saw the man. She's not going anywhere."

"She did, I'd go after her," Elijah admitted. His voice was dark. Ugly. The killer, not the man. He wanted Drake to see the worst of him. "I'd drag her ass back home so fast she wouldn't know what hit her. That woman has no idea what's in her fucking bed."

"Yeah, she does," Drake said. "She knows. She climbed into it with her eyes open, Elijah. She's smart, that one. Like Emma. Like Catarina. They know what they got. They love their men and accept them."

"Jake's clean."

Drake burst out laughing. "You know better than that."

"He's clean to the rest of the world."

"He's dangerous. Eli's dangerous. Their women know."

"Lot of difference between being dangerous and dirty, Drake. Siena lives with knowing her man heads a crime family. Her man beat the shit out of other men to force them back into line. Her man killed. She doesn't just get to pretend we're living clean, because the neighbors are always going to look at her like she's filth."

"Siena is in your bed, Elijah. Right now. She knew your reputation before she ever made that choice."

Elijah shook his head, his eyes going pure cat. "Did I give her a choice? A real choice? I forced her to come home with me . . ."

"That was me," Drake said. "Not you. Your home was the only safe place for her. You were the only safe place for her. She was under your protection the moment she entered your house. No matter where she landed, someone was going to go after her. With you standing between her and everyone else, that threat was minimized. You have Cordeau's heir and Paolo and no one else to deal with because of your reputation. That's what saved Siena. You think she doesn't know that? She can't very well get too righteous if she's hiding behind that strength."

"Shut the fuck up. She's not hiding behind anything, and she can get as righteous as she wants to. What the hell does that mean? You think she knew her grandfather was dirty? He was a winemaker. She went to school to take over his business."

"You really are a hothead when it comes to that woman," Drake said. He didn't even bother to hide his grin. He sure as hell wasn't afraid of Elijah or his anger. "She should take over her grandfather's business. Waltz right back home and announce she's the boss. And no, I don't believe she knew about her grandfather. Even the Feds weren't certain. There's never been a shred of evidence. The man was brilliant at hiding his activities. If he hadn't associated with known criminals, he wouldn't have even been on their radar."

"Eli told me the Feds believed he was friends with them because of their American-Italian connection. His wine is considered among the best in the United States, and naturally the families would gravitate toward it."

Eli Perez was on the plane as well. An ex-DEA agent, he was tough as nails and good in a fight. He was a recent addition to Drake's team, and he was assisting Jake in coming at Cordeau's business partners from another angle. Jake was famous for buying up companies and taking them apart. He was ruthless when it came to business.

They'd brought Alonzo with them. They needed to see him in action. Make certain before they brought him further into their fold. Most of Drake's team had come from his home lair in the Borneo rain forest and Drake had known them from his childhood. Any new members were also men he'd known and worked with on his rescue teams from various rain forests around the world. They didn't have to worry about their loyalty.

Bringing Alonzo in was dangerous. All of them knew it and were willing to take the risk. Like Elijah, Drake and the others thought he would be a good asset, a man worth saving. Still, one wrong move and he wouldn't make it back. Elijah sighed. He was leopard. He knew the rules of living in the world of leopards. The rules were even more rigid and ruthless, more primitive and savage than the rules of his family.

Joaquin Estrada was there as well. He kept to himself, although he'd met Drake a few times when Elijah had pulled him in on a rescue job they needed. There was no way Joaquin or Tomas would ever allow Elijah to go too far without one of them.

"Siena wants to take over her grandfather's winery," Elijah confirmed for Drake. "But I can't let her go back there until Paolo is dragged out into the open and I can take his ass down."

"You take Siena to that winery, I guarantee Paolo will come out of the shadows," Drake said. "He'll have no choice. He's made his brag to her father's army. They see the princess and she tells them Paolo beat the crap out of her and murdered their boss, they aren't going to welcome him."

A snarl erupted before Drake could finish. Growls rumbled deep in Elijah's chest, and his eyes banded with heat. His leopard rose fast, angry, vicious. There was instant silence on the plane. Elijah fought back his male. Cleared his throat several times to try to stop the raging beast from coming up any farther. He felt the itch of fur. The ache in his joints. The need to shift.

Drake didn't move a muscle. He didn't back away. He didn't try to shift in order for his leopard to combat Elijah's. He simply waited for Elijah to get himself under control, as if he had all the faith in the world that he would. If he didn't, Drake was dead. Elijah's male would kill him instantly, and no one, not even Elijah, would be able to stop him.

Elijah breathed deep, forcing his leopard under control. Breathing away the need to shift. The anger remained. "I should rip your fucking head off," he snarled, his voice low, dark with his rage. "You already put her out there as bait once, against my better judgment, and someone got close enough to take a shot at her."

Drake nodded. Calm. Elijah recognized instantly why he'd always admired Drake. He took responsibility. He never passed the buck. And he remained calm. He got the job done. It was how he could lead so many, clean up and run a very difficult lair and run so many jobs with dangerous leopards following his orders. Elijah could be that calm over everything and anything--unless Siena was involved.

"I get that, Elijah. I'm just saying, you want that man out in the open, you have the way to do it fast and easy."

"Not going to use my woman as bait, Drake. I don't need fast and easy to bring that fucker down. I'll get him. And when I do, you don't want to be anywhere around. He ripped her to shreds. He put his hands on her. He hurt her. He doesn't get to do that and die clean."

"I don't think you're going to get any arguments over how the man should die, Elijah," Drake said, shrugging his shoulders. "He's rogue. He knows the rules of our world. The boys are standing in line to teach him a lesson. To make him a lesson. No one is backing away from taking him out or teaching him that lesson."

"My woman isn't bait."

Drake grinned at him. "Get a handle on it, Elijah. You're a crazy fuck when it comes to her. Where's your famous cool? If I didn't know bett

er I'd think you just came out of a cave for the first time."

Drake, damn him, was teasing him. Looking to get a rise out of him, and he'd managed to do it in a very dangerous way.

"I still ought to rip your fucking head off," Elijah groused, but the anger was gone, replaced by something else altogether. Affection. It wasn't just respect he had for Drake Donovan, it was affection.

Alonzo slid into the seat across the aisle. "You hitting them in broad daylight?"

"That's the plan," Drake said.

"He's leopard?" Alonzo prompted.

"He's a big son of a bitch too," Elijah said. "I didn't see his leopard, but he's a big man. Walks like a cat. He's going to be expecting us to hit him at night. He knows he blew the hit, and all this time he's been waiting for retaliation. He's on edge, knowing it's coming but not when or how. He's probably locked his place down and thinks he's got a fortress. We've made him wait, get anxious. Made his boys stretch their nerves out. He's in meltdown mode by now."

"So why daylight?" Alonzo reiterated.

Elijah wasn't used to anyone questioning his decisions. He sized Alonzo up. The man wasn't questioning the decision so much as trying to learn. Elijah liked that. He was certain Alonzo was far more than the soldier he claimed to be. He was comfortable in that role because he was used to it, but he could be a king. He needed to learn the ropes and become comfortable in his decision-making. The very good thing about Alonzo was that when he gave his loyalty, he didn't take it back. That meant he would always give his allegiance to Elijah and Siena, even if he were crowned the new king.

"He knows I'm leopard," Elijah said. "It won't occur to him that I'm going to hit him during the day, so his security won't be as tight. At night, he's going to have every soldier he can muster, especially the leopards, guarding him. During the day, he'll want to take care of business. Let everyone know he's the new boss. He'll be working at shaking down everyone Cordeau had on his books and cementing his relationships with the gangs running his drugs and guns for him. He's got a prostitute ring that goes through four parishes. He can't afford to keep all his soldiers home with him during the day."

"You have someone on the inside?" Alonzo asked. "Someone feeding you information?"

Elijah smiled like the leopard he was. Hungry. Cunning. "In every family, Alonzo. That man is your bread and butter. You keep him happy. You protect anyone he loves. You build him up. You make certain that whatever he gets from you is far more than he can ever have where he is. You don't ever ask for anything but information. Nothing that ever can blow back on him or anyone he cares about. They have to come from that territory, not yours, because there can never be a tie back to you. That's a protection for them. So always, take the time to do homework. Know everyone low, mid and high level. Low level moves up. High level is usually very loyal."

"Do you have the layout of his compound?"

Drake nodded. "Down to the last bush. We've got aerial. We've got blueprints. We've got the contractor who did the work fifty years ago and his son who added a few new escape routes since then. Talked to the painters, the electricians and even the plumber. All a very long time ago, back when Cordeau was alive and getting a stranglehold on the territory. Elijah's uncle was very thorough finding out about every boss connected to his business. But more than that, when Gaton moved his ass to Rafe Cordeau's mansion, he made the mistake of his life. We've got Catarina Perez, and she was raised there. She knows every inch of that property and she drew it all out for us."

18

RAFE Cordeau had bought one of the oldest plantations existing near New Orleans. The huge rambling house with its elegant white pillars and large wraparound verandah spoke of decadence and affluence. It hid the secrets of those who had lived before, although Elijah thought Cordeau's ownership was fitting.

The property was large. Great cypress trees with barreled trunks lined the water lapping at the lawn on two sides of the house. Great shawls of Spanish moss dripped down toward the water, swaying in the slight wind. The swamp crept up toward the house on the other two sides, threatening to take back the property at any moment.

The air smelled musty. Old. The farther Drake and Joshua moved through the swamp, the more often they came across the old slave cabins Cordeau had renovated for his men to use for various activities. It was where Cordeau's lieutenants took their women so screams couldn't be heard. It was where they took enemies and tortured or beat them into submission or to death.

As they got closer to the main house, they ran into razor wire strung through the trees and brush. The motion detectors in the trees were much more frequent here, and the guards were used to animals setting them off. Drake and Joshua didn't. They moved with ease through the dense vegetation, not making a sound, closing in on the plantation, the sniper rifles flat against their backs, avoiding every single motion detector and camera along the way.

The road leading to the plantation had never been paved and Cordeau had kept it that way. He liked looking at the tracks and recognizing who drove what vehicle. Once he'd learned to identify tire tracks of each, he always knew who had come close to his property.

The plantation had been outfitted with a surrounding high fence, the top three strands razor wire, and a guard shack. The propane truck rumbled up to the guardhouse and the driver leaned out. He was sweating. The morning was already hot and humid, the air heavy with moisture. His shirt was wet under the armpits and down the front. His cap was pulled low over his eyes and he chewed on his toothpick.

"Danny."

"Pete," the guard answered, even more bored than the driver. He'd been on duty 24-7 since Cordeau had disappeared with several of his lieutenants. At night, Robert Gaton insisted everyone stay alert. Mostly the plantation was visited by deer and other wildlife. They set off the motion detectors and the floodlights every so many minutes. Danny was sick of it, just like most of the other soldiers. Gaton treated everyone like shit. He liked being the boss and knowing everyone had to jump if he told them to--and he told them to often.

"Gonna be hotter than hell today," Danny observed. "And it's gonna rain."

Pete glanced up at the sun, squinting. "Yeah. Maybe in an hour or two. I got a heavy schedule today. I'm going to get wet."

Danny grinned at him, revealing crooked teeth. "You ever find that niece of yours? When she disappear? 'Bout three months ago?"

Pete's face closed down. He pulled his hat lower. "Nope, we never found her," he said. "Funny thing, that. You and your partner, Bart, spent a lot of time talkin' to her every night at the bar."

"Didn't get anywhere." Danny shrugged. "Legs were tight, man. She wasn't givin' anything up."

Pete's mouth hardened. His hand closed over the small caliber gun tucked down the side of his seat, but then he relaxed. He had a little surprise for Gaton and his crew. He knew Danny and Bart had taken his niece from the bar when her shift ended three months earlier. Hell, everyone knew it. Danny liked to taunt him about it. Pete also knew she was dead and that she'd probably died hard. Women tended to disappear if any of Cordeau's men took a fancy to them. Gaton was every bit as bad, but everyone feared them and no one dared to challenge them. Until now.

Danny waved him through, laughing softly. Knowing he'd had Pete's niece and he was going to keep on having her until he used her up. He and Bart had been having good times for the last three months. They enjoyed putting on shows for some of the other boys. She didn't seem to enjoy it, but then she wasn't into receiving pain as much as they liked dishing it out. He especially enjoyed taunting Pete to his face, because he thought Pete--and no one else--would ever stand up to them.

Pete drove the truck around the main house, back behind the shrubbery that hid the large propane tank. He'd been there hundreds of time. No one ever paid any attention to him anymore. Still, even though he was certain his niece had been taken here, somewhere on the property, he'd never dared to look around. The men all were armed and they thought nothing of killing.

Like most people who had t

o deal with Rafe Cordeau and his men, Pete kept a low profile. But he heard things. He certainly had heard of Elijah Lospostos. There was nothing low profile about him. He was a devil. Worse than the likes of Rafe Cordeau it was said. His name was whispered by Cordeau's men and they looked at one another uneasily when they said it. Since Rafe's disappearance, the name came up much more often. Everyone knew a war was coming. Everyone including Pete, so he had tried, like his neighbors, to stay under the radar.

He was shocked when Elijah Lospostos's men approached him. They were civil. Respectful. They didn't threaten. They didn't treat him like he needed to bow down before them. They had a plan and they laid it out. They needed a ride onto the property. They would use one of the propane tanks to get in. They'd construct a place in the belly of the tank to hide their men. He'd drive in, fill the tank as usual and drive away. Seeing nothing. Saying nothing. In return they would pay him very well and find out what happened to his niece. They would also avenge her. Nothing could be traced back to him.

Pete liked them. More, he liked their plan. It was a good one. He wouldn't know that the gas smell would mask their scents from the shifter guard. He liked the idea of the Trojan horse, driving right onto their property, under the nose of Danny the guard.

Pete's older rig, one he rarely used anymore, had been completely reconstructed inside. There was space--although cramped quarters--for five or six men and their equipment as well as a smaller tank that he could use to actually pump the gas into Gaton's propane tank. He liked being part of taking Gaton and his men down. It hadn't taken much convincing to put him squarely in Lospostos's camp.

He drove into the deepest brush, where he knew it was difficult to see from the house or any of the outbuildings. Cordeau hadn't wanted to have a propane tank visible. Gas made him nervous. He liked it hidden so no one would get the idea of using it against him. Pete parked and got out, walking around to the hose. As he did so, he hit the side of the truck hard to indicate they were undercover and this would be the best chance the men had of getting out of the truck without being seen.

Pete should have been tense, but he wasn't. All he could think about was Danny's taunting smirk. That voice. The one that told him his niece had suffered and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He went about his business pumping the gas and trying not to see the five men moving silently out of the belly of the truck. He didn't recognize any of them, and none of them looked at him until the last man. He turned and saluted Pete, as if respecting him. That meant a whole hell of a lot when he'd spent the last three months feeling less than a man.