Leopard's Prey

growing louder and more obnoxious by the moment. He knew if Bijou was singing, the bouncers would likely throw the men out, but she was on a break and they were getting away with their noise. He ground his teeth together and held on to his foul temper with every bit of discipline he had, commanding his leopard to back off and let him handle things.
    His jaw ached permanently now. He could feel the roped muscles coiled and ready. Fur itched beneath his skin and the tips of his fingers and toes burned. He tried breathing away the fire, but the more he tried not to look at Bijou, the more his gaze was pulled in her direction and his body hardened beyond his comprehension. He didn’t have that kind of gut-wrenching reaction to a woman, ever, not until now.
    He was the kind of man who could walk away any time he needed to—fully intact. Until Bijou. That was how he knew the leopard mating ritual was real. He had become fixated on her, his body reacting almost before he scented her or saw her. Having other men around her was torture, but knowing other male leopards were close to her was worse. Yeah, Gage had it right when he said Remy had it bad.
    His phone vibrated and he pulled it out to check it. There was nothing like an ongoing investigation running through the night, but his sense of urgency kept increasing and he always trusted his gut instincts. Angelina had sent him information on both Rob Butterfield and Jason Durang. She hadn’t found out yet if there was an insurance policy on Bijou taken out by her manager or his company, but even in that short period of time, she’d uncovered quite a bit on both men.
    Ron Butterfield had a gambling habit that over the years had caused him grief. Twice his home had been broken into and everything destroyed because he’d failed to pay back a loan he’d taken out from the wrong person. Once he’d been beaten senseless, and several times over the years he’d been accused of embezzling from his own company.
    Butterfield’s friend Jason Durang had a long record of assault. He’d come in contact with Butterfield when Butterfield briefly served time in prison for embezzlement. Butterfield hired Durang the moment Durang was out of prison, but no one seemed to know what the man actually did for him. He had a reputation for being an enforcer, and he’d been hanging around Butterfield for the past four years.
    Remy handed his phone to his brother and let him read the data Angelina had provided. “She’s still diggin’, but I don’ think there’s much doubt that Butterfield has an insurance policy on Bijou.”
    Remy took a deep breath. He didn’t want to say it aloud and breathe life into the idea, but it was a perfect time for a copycat killer to dispose of someone who was in their way. If Bijou was considering firing Butterfield, and if he continued to push her to do something she didn’t want to do, she had to be considering it, then his money train was over and she was of no more use to him alive.
    Gage’s eyes met his. Remy read the same thought. He shook his head. Things were getting worse by the minute. Bijou’s life hadn’t improved much even after her father had died. He tried not to snarl as he turned his head to look at her. She lifted her head. The impact of her amazing eyes on him was frightening. He could fall into her eyes and stay there forever. She smiled at him and nodded, and just like that his breath slammed out of his lungs and his blood surged hot and wild through his veins. She stood up with her fluid grace, looking more sensual than ever and began her rounds through the club before she took the stage again. She spoke briefly to the people at each table, smiling and listening to the various comments and greetings. She was gracious, royal even, occasionally signing autographs before moving on.
    “I have to hand it to you, brother,” Gage said, “the woman is gorgeous. A handful, but gorgeous. I can see why none of the girls in school liked her. Saria said that to me once, but I put it down to her daddy’s money and how privileged she was.”
    “Yeah, she was privileged all right,” Remy said, anger welling up out of nowhere, remembering that little eight-year-old girl with the solemn eyes telling him she didn’t expect to make it through the night. Bringing her home and finding naked men and women scattered throughout her house, so causally doing drugs and in alcohol stupors. “No doubt about it, Gage, Bijou had a very privileged