Leopard's Prey

leapt from the cliff above them to drop front end first straight down into the bayou. The back tires missed them by a breath, seeming to skim down their backs, although neither was actually touched.
    Bijou closed her eyes and tried not to shake. Arnaud didn’t so much as tremble, his nerves like steel. She hadn’t expected that of him. He was so creative, and she associated creativity with emotion—maybe because she was so emotional. Most of her problems over the years in the business she was in had been due to being too emotional. She couldn’t handle the fame. She never liked being in the spotlight, and yet she’d been born into the glare of one and had pursued a career that kept her there.
    Footsteps overhead kept them still. Bijou pressed her lips together tightly and waited, sending up a prayer that whoever was above them didn’t have a gun. There was still her car, and she’d left the keys in the ignition, just as Arnaud had. Whoever the madman was, he swore again and spit into the water as the SUV tilted and slowly began to sink beneath the murky water. He kicked more dirt down onto them, although clearly he couldn’t see them.
    Silence descended. A few minutes later the insects began to buzz, filling the silence with normalcy. Bijou stirred, but Arnaud tightened his fingers around her hand warning her to wait a few more moments. The insects grew louder. He relaxed and allowed himself to push away from the wall, casually dusting off his suit. The gesture made Bijou smile, stealing some of the tension from her. No matter what, Arnaud was aware of his appearance.
    “Do you think he’s gone?” she whispered.
    “I don’t hear him starting up your car, but stay as close to the bank as you can,” Arnaud cautioned.
    She found it took a minute to make her body move away from the protection of the embankment. She looked up. “It’s a long climb back up there and it looks unstable.”
    “We’ll be fine,” Arnaud assured. He looked at her for a long time, a puzzled look on his face. “Why did you do that?” Arnaud asked, his voice expressionless.
    Bijou frowned at him. “Do what?”
    “Protect me. When you first knew he was there, you covered my body with yours.”
    She shrugged. “You’re my friend.”
    He shook his head. “That’s not the reason, Bijou. Do you remember how we met?”
    “Of course.” She flashed a smile in spite of the situation. “It was very dramatic.”
    “I had been at your concert. I sat in the front row and just watched you. I
watched
you more than heard you. When you came out, surrounded by bodyguards, you were still signing autographs. They didn’t want you to do it, but there were people outside who hadn’t been able to get to you and they mattered to you. You were a few feet away . . .”
    “And you were starin’ at me.”
    He nodded solemnly. No smile. Just remembering something that was obviously important to him. “I couldn’t help myself. You had the most perfect bone structure I’d ever seen. I kept thinking if I could sculpt you—somehow get that perfection in one of my creations. I didn’t realize until much later that I was making you uncomfortable. I was so focused on memorizing every detail of your face.”
    “You weren’t paying any attention at all to traffic and you stepped backward.”
    He nodded. “I was trying to see your face in a different light. No one moved but you. Not a single one of your bodyguards. Just you. I remember you rushing toward me, catching at me, and we both went tumbling. I felt the air as the car went by. It was so close. You saved my life, Bijou, and risked your own to do it. Not a single other person moved to help. Just you. You didn’t know me then, but you still did it.”
    Bijou shrugged, a little embarrassed. She hadn’t thought before she moved, seeing the car bearing down on him. “I’m glad I did, Arnaud, whatever the reason. I’ve got three people in the world I count as friends and you’re one of them.”
    He stared at her for a long time. “I’ve got one friend, Bijou, and you’re it.”
    She blinked. Found herself smiling. “We’re a pathetic little lot, aren’t we? Our darin’ enemy up there probably despises my singin’ or your sculptures and he’s just expressin’ himself.”
    “He’s throwing a tantrum is what he’s doing,” Arnaud corrected.
    Again, Bijou was caught by Arnaud’s lack of emotion. He wasn’t angry, even with his SUV sinking in the bayou.
    “I’m sorry about