Remy halted in midstride. Yeah. Just who was her friend? What the hell were they doing together? And why would her leopard even allow him in such close proximity? He was going to have trouble with Bijou Breaux.
“Stop snarlin’,” Gage advised softly. “She’s obviously gone through hell, Remy. That leopard of yours is gettin’ out of control.”
“Arnaud Lefevre is with me,” Bijou called out. “His SUV was driven over the side with all of his things by that crazy person.”
“Were the two of you inside?” Remy asked, lifting the trunk of her car and rummaging for her climbing bag. The thought of the suave, wealthy, sophisticated famous sculptor and Bijou together in his backseat was enough to have claws bursting through aching fingers. He breathed away the pain and forced his leopard under control.
“No, we weren’t inside.” Impatience edged Bijou’s voice. Her teeth were chattering.
“We were really worried about you, Bijou,” Gage intervened, shooting a glare at his brother. “You obviously ended up in the bayou. We’d like to know what happened.”
Bijou blinked back tears. “No one can be nice to me right now, Gage,” she cautioned. She hated the quiver in her voice. She would not turn into a baby in front of Remy. She pressed a hand to her mouth. She needed to be alone, just for a few minutes to compose herself. It would help if she’d stop shaking.
Remy mouthed the word see to his brother, frowning in caution. The last thing he wanted was for Bijou to cry in front of everyone and then blame him. He wouldn’t be able to be cool with her tears and that would only embarrass her more. Gage might not like the way he handled things, but he knew Bijou better than she knew herself.
Arnaud touched Bijou’s arm awkwardly. “We’ll get you out of here in time for your performance tonight.”
Bijou hadn’t even thought of singing at the club. How could she have forgotten? She worked so hard to pull the club together, but all she wanted to do right now was crawl in bed and pull the covers over her head—after a long hot shower of course.
“You’ll be awesome tonight, Bijou,” Arnaud assured her as if guessing her thoughts. “You’re the consummate professional. You’ll handle it just fine.”
Now she really had no choice but to buck up and be the professional, which was probably why Arnaud had said it. He knew she was an emotional wreck and was bolstering her up. He was right too. Both had survived when things could have gone very bad at any time. She took a deep breath and let it out.
“I’ve got the rope,” Remy called down to them, studying the webbing around the tree. The original carabiners were in place. The ropes had been cut off past those carabiners. He made short work of tying new knots, grateful for his time in the service and all the special training he’d had.
Arnaud sent Bijou up first and he followed right behind her. Once they were safe, Remy stood absolutely still, almost without breathing, drinking in the sight of Bijou. She did smell like the bayou, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him was that she was alive. He didn’t give a damn what she said or thought. He yanked her into his arms, holding her tightly against his body, his hands moving over her, reassuring himself she was uninjured. She didn’t melt into him, but rather held herself very stiff and aloof. Yeah, he was in trouble.
Bijou pulled away from him almost immediately. “I’m getting you all wet and you’ll have to throw away those clothes.”
“Do you think I give a damn about clothes? You could have died. What were you thinkin’? You should have stayed put and waited for me.”
She shook her head, a slow crimson creeping up her neck at the memory of waking to the ruined room and having to possibly face Saria, not knowing where Remy went or even if he intended to return. “No, Remy, you should have stayed put.”
She turned on her heel and walked away from him. Head up. Shoulders square. She looked regal in spite of the mud and wet clothes. She looked . . . magnificent.
“You got it bad, bro,” Gage whispered as he walked past Remy, a wide grin on his face. “You might want to close your mouth before somethin’ flies into or out of it.”
Bijou went straight to her car and stood, unmoving, looking at the damage. Arnaud came up beside her, setting Remy’s teeth on edge. She didn’t look at Arnaud as if she wanted nothing to do with him.
“What a mess,” Arnaud said. “Why would someone do this?”
Remy watched Bijou carefully. She inhaled sharply and stiffened. She knew. She’d caught the scent. The leopard in her was merging with her, becoming part of her, and with her acute sense of smell, she recognized the scent of the man who been stalking her.
“Who is it, Blue?” Remy asked.
She shook her head.
“You know. He trashed my apartment this morning and left behind the picture of me kissing you. It wasn’t pretty, Bijou. He’s escalating his behavior.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Bob Carson grew up in Bodrie’s house. I’ve known him my entire life. He wouldn’t do this.”
Remy’s eyes met Gage’s. Gage nodded. The moment he’d caught Carson’s scent out on the road, he was certain it was the photographer who was stalking Bijou.
“Don’ kid yourself, honey,” Remy said. “Tell me why he would take an eight-year-old child to a hotel room with a bunch of men and try to pump her full of drugs. He was probably figuring he’d get rid of you and Bodrie would leave everything to him.”
“You did remember him then. You didn’t say a word.”
“I had a very primitive reaction to seeing him—I wanted to pound him into the ground.” Remy paused, his gaze holding hers. “And you didn’t say anything.”