Leopard 04 - Wild Fire

had known, and Conner knew how. She let out her breath and buried her face in his roped, muscled neck, unable to look at him. Conner had to think his mother thought the worst of him when she died. As much as Isabeau thought she wanted him to suffer—it wasn’t like this—not about his mother.
    She rubbed her cheek against his fur, needing as much comfort and soothing as he did. Did he think she’d done it on purpose? Tried to make him look bad in front of his mother? It hadn’t been like that at all. “I was hungry for companionship—for a mother or big sister. A female I could talk to. My own mother died when I was a young child. I can barely remember her. Well, I guess she was really my adopted mother. I didn’t know my birth mother.”
    She hadn’t known she was adopted until after her leopard had clawed Conner’s face. Instinctively her fingers went to the cat’s face. Sure enough, there were four deep furrows there. She stroked small caresses along the four scars. She was somewhat sheltered from the rain by the thick leaves overhead, but every now and then a few drops ran off the broad leaves in a steady trickle down her back. She squirmed uncomfortably.
    Instantly the leopard was on his feet. Sitting, he was taller than her. His face broad and strong. He looked up at the surrounding trees as if studying them before turning back to her. He waited while she slowly got to her feet. She knew he wanted to get her off the ground and up into the trees, a leopard’s instinctive reaction.
    “We can go back to the cabin and sit on the porch,” she suggested hastily.
    She was a little nervous surrounded by absolute darkness, those golden eyes glowing at her. And she didn’t want to see any insects coming at her in swarms. For the most part, mosquitoes and other stinging or biting bugs kept a distance from her, but there were always the swarms of ants to contend with. She would never admit it aloud, after all her chosen profession kept her in the rain forest, but ants in particular gave her nightmares. It was rather comical to be standing with her fingers buried in the fur of a leopard and be scouring the churning vegetation for ants.
    Isabeau took a tentative step in the direction of the cabin. She’d always had an amazing sense of direction, even in the interior of the rain forest, although she never entered without a guide, but now she felt even more confident. She took another slow step, her heart hammering hard, wanting him to follow her. The leopard moved to her side, keeping his neck under her palm and his body against her leg as they moved together through the heavy brush.
    Wanting to keep his mind fixed on her and away from the loss of his mother, Isabeau continued talking.
    “When I was a child, I remember my father used to try to take me to those parks where they have roller-coaster rides, and I hated them. I was very adventurous, so he could never understand why I didn’t like the movement. Every time I rode one of them, something inside me would go crazy. It must have been my cat, but of course I didn’t know it at the time.” She sighed. “I guess I didn’t know a lot of things then.”
    They walked in and out among the trees. She could hear her heart pounding. She was going to tell him—and betray her father even more. But she owed him that much.
    “I told your mother about the roller coaster—and the men my father always met at the parks.” She could hear the tremble in her voice, but she couldn’t quite control it and knew Conner could hear it too, especially with the sensitive ears of the leopard.
    Beneath her hand, the roped muscles tensed, but he didn’t break stride. He kept walking with her and that gave her the courage to make the confession. “I never paid attention to the men he often met there, because I didn’t like them. There was something off about their smell.” Her fingers curled deeper in his fur. “I could smell things miles away. It drove me crazy. These men would come up to him when we would get a snow cone. Dad always took me to this one stand, and the same two men would meet him and hand him a package. He would give them an envelope. I was a child, Conner, and didn’t realize, or even question, that he was getting paid for something, or that the reason those men smelled ‘off’ was because they were doing something wrong.”
    She hadn’t realized how easy it would be—or what a relief it was to be able to tell him. In his leopard form, she didn’t