Leopard's Prey

do anything dumb. I’m goin’ after her. Using my leopard. He’ll track her.”
    Saria’s eyes went wide with shock. “Those photographers have been by lookin’ for Bijou, Remy. You can’t take that chance. They know she’s here and for all we know they’re lurkin’ in the bushes, or have set up shop down the road with a zoom lens.”
    He moved around the house to the back, away from the street. The property stretched down to the lake and edged the bayou on one side. Saria followed him. Remy ignored her, jerking off his shoes and tossing them aside.
    “Are you serious?” Saria objected, trying again to reason with him. “Remy, it’s too dangerous. She wouldn’t want you doin’ this.”
    “I’m strippin’, little sister, so if you don’ want an eyeful, you might want to leave.”
    “You’re so stubborn!” Exasperated, she threw her hands into the air and turned her back on him. “If you get yourself killed, that’s not goin’ to help Bijou.”
    He didn’t reply. Already his leopard raked and clawed for freedom, eager to find her. Fur ran beneath his skin, a wave that itched beyond reason. His knuckles ached and the tips of his fingers burned and throbbed. Joints popped, painful to the point that he squatted, unable to stand while he tried to grasp his jeans to get the material off his burning skin. His vision had already begun to blur, to change color, and his sense of smell heightened.
    “At least let me make certain no one’s around before you go out onto the street,” Saria said, desperation edging her voice. “I wish Drake was here to talk sense into you.”
    Drake couldn’t have stopped him. No one could. The need to find Bijou had grown so strong it was beyond a compulsion. He shed the rest of his clothes and willed the change, embracing his leopard, calling him out. He’d always been fast at shifting, but his leopard had been so eager to emerge that it had taken longer to remove his clothing, but now he had barely time enough to circle his neck with his pack and boots. His was nearly all leopard by the time he stashed his weapons in his pack and zipped it closed, just making it before his hands curved and claws burst through skin.
    Black fur, darker rosettes set deep, covered roped muscles and powerful legs. He forced his leopard to wait for Saria’s call. He counted heartbeats, his breath huffing out in deep chest breaths as he tried for restraint, concentrating on the actual math in his head. Waiting. Snarling. His nose already scenting, whiskers acting like radar.
    “Clear, Remy,” Saria called.
    He rushed around the corner, swerved to avoid his sister and raced to where Bijou had parked her car the night before. He went still, absorbing the scent until her car was a distinct marker in his lungs—until the unique blend of lavender with oil and gas and her particular vehicle penetrated deep into his bones. He paced up and down, making certain he could follow her particular car anywhere.
    Remy whirled around and raced down the street, moving fast. His presence set dogs barking two residences away from the Inn, but by the time the dogs knew there was a big cat in the neighborhood, he had found a semblance of cover in the trees lining the street leading to the maze of trees. He cut into the grove and followed the road until it branched, moving fast. She could only go one way, and he could stay out of sight until he came to the fork.
    At the fork, he slowed to a stop, hidden in the brush while a car went by. Taking a careful sweep in each direction, scenting the air, Remy determined he had a few moments necessary to catch which way Bijou’s car went. He stepped out into the road and made for the fork, padding silently on large paws, all the while taking in every smell along the pavement.
    Bijou’s car had gone to the right, toward the bayou and away from town. He huffed out his breath and started down the road, moving fast, angling toward the cover of trees. The tree line stopped a good fifty yards and heavy grasses replaced the grove, but the grass wasn’t particularly tall. He took the chance anyway, streaking across the open field to the grass, listening for cars while he raced toward the strip of road separating the bayous. The sound of a car had him sinking down, nearly in plain sight, holding himself still, not a muscle moving. The car went by, and his brother’s patrol car swept up beside him. Gage reached back and opened the door and Remy leapt in.
    “You’re