Leopard 02 - Wild Rain

stared at them in surprise. Franz hissed and, facing Drake, backed away as he slowly slunk toward the largest tree branch. As if his back legs were springs, the clouded leopard launched himself into the canopy and disappeared.
    Drake remained motionless, watching the leaves quivering, and then he took a deep breath, let it out and glanced at Rio. “Back off, man, the little runt deserved to be kicked.”
    “Fritz was attacked by a leopard, Drake. Franz is a little on edge. You could have given him a break.”
    “I don’t understand,” Rachael interrupted. “I thought you two were friends.”
    Rio immediately dropped his hand onto her shoulder. “Drake and I understand each other, Rachael.”
    “Well I don’t understand either of you.”
    Rio laughed softly. “It has something to do with bad-tempered cats. Come on, let’s get that leg taken care of.”
    “You mean put that homemade brownish paste on it?” Rachael sounded horrified. “I don’t think so. I’ll take my chances with the care you gave me.” She stared at the railing behind Drake. There were fresh claw marks in the wood and she couldn’t remember them being there earlier.
    “Surely you aren’t going to be a coward,” Rio teased, picking her up as if nothing had happened. He didn’t glance at the claw marks or seem to notice them. All the tension was gone as if it had never been.
    “Maybe we could mix a few more petals in with it and change the color,” Drake suggested, preceding Rio into the house. “Tama, she doesn’t want your healing concoction. Can you change the color to princess pink?”
    Rachael made a face at Drake. “I’ll go without it, regardless of color.”
    Kim smiled at her. “It works, Miss Wilson.”

    “Rachael,” she corrected, trying to look dignified when Rio placed her on the bed. She was already tired and wanted to just lie down and sleep for a while. “How fast does it work? And does it hurt?”
    “Your leg already hurts,” Rio pointed out. “It won’t make the pain worse.”
    Rachael curled up, drawing her leg up as best she could to protect it from any voodoo concoction Tama had whipped up. “I’m a modern sort of woman. The kind that goes with modern medicine.”
    “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase, ‘when in Rome . . .’?” Rio teased.
    “Yes, well, we’re not in Rome and I doubt if their medicine is that particular shade of green.” Rachael glared at him, slapping his hand away as Rio tried to pull her leg out for inspection. “Back off if you don’t want to lose that hand!”
    “Is she always like this?” Drake asked.
    “She gets worse. Don’t put a gun in her hand.”
    “That was an accident. I had a high fever.” She shoved Rio’s hand away again. “I’m not getting near that stuff. You sure turn bossy when your friends are around.”
    “Stop squirming around. I want Kim and Tama to see what they can do.” Rio sat on the edge of the bed, casually leaning his weight across her hips so she couldn’t sit up. “Just do it, Tama, don’t pay any attention to her.”
    “What did she shoot?” Drake asked.
    “The radio.”
    Drake laughed. “Fortunately I brought mine. You can have it and I’ll pick up another. We’re going to have to go after Kim’s do-gooders and get them out of Tomas’s camp. That was the real reason we came, you know, not to rescue you, Rio.”
    “Kim’s do-gooders?” Rachael echoed, feigning outrage. “When I’m feeling better, you’ll be taking that back.”
    Rio tried to ignore the black jealousy swirling in his gut. He might come from a primitive species but he didn’t have to act like it. He could be civilized. It shouldn’t matter that Rachael smiled at Drake.
    And maybe it didn’t. But it did matter that she teased him. He wanted that particular note in her voice to be reserved exclusively for him. He reached inward, searching for a calm center, a place he often went to conquer the part of him that lived by forest rules. Air moved through his lungs. He breathed in and out, determined not to sway from his chosen path. It was all important for him to be in control.
    He felt the touch of her fingers. Feather-light. Barely there, the smallest of connections. Her fingers twisted in the waistband of his pants, knuckles pressing against his bare skin creating instant heat. It was a small gesture, but he recognized her need for comfort, for reassurance. And that brought him instant relief.
    “Rio, are you going to go after Don Gregson