“You think I don’t remember you, Uncle Beau?” There was bitterness in his voice. “Mom never once talked of that night, and she only said good of you and Gilbert, but I remember. My leopard remembers. You betrayed us and that monster of a grandfather killed his own son. I saw it and every night when I go to bed, I still see it. So don’t think for one moment I’ve forgotten because I was little.”
“Leopards don’ forget, boy,” Beau answered wearily. “None of us have forgotten that night. The old devil took our wives. He would have killed them too. Neither Gilbert nor I ever considered that he might kill Renard. Your mother was at risk, but not you or Renard, at least that’s what we believed, and we figured Renard would just cack. Renard refused to allow his wife to bring you back. He sent her runnin’ with you while he fought the old man. It was worse after that for all of us. My wife killed herself and Gilbert’s run off.”
“Why didn’t you just kill the bastard?”
Beau shook his head. “You don’ know what it’s like livin’ with a monster.”
Joshua shook his head. “Your sons?”
Beau gestured toward two grown men just rising after swearing allegiance to their new leader.
“And your daughter? One of you has a daughter. There have been rumors.”
“Rumors the old man could never prove. We told him she died at birth.”
“What a waste, hiding your daughter, living like rats. You need to meet a man named Jake Bannaconni.” There was bitterness in his voice.
“Joshua.”
Drake’s quiet voice penetrated the anger and disgust. Joshua sucked in his breath and turned toward the man who always had provided calm when rage got to be too much. Turning his back on his uncles, he strode toward the house, his shoulders stiff with outrage.
Drake watched him come, judging his mood. “I’m sorry, Joshua, for putting you in such a bad position. I recognized the surname, but didn’t investigate. I should have asked you before putting you . . .”
“I would never have let you come here without backup. The minute Jake told me where you’d gone, I was already packing.” Joshua looked him straight in the eye. “And as long as you’re staying here, I will be too. No one lifted a hand to help my mom, least of all that family.” He looked Drake over and suddenly grinned. “I think you should get back inside before you make a fool of yourself, boss.”
Drake smiled back, swaying slightly. Joshua Tregre had always been a puzzle to him. On one hand he was quiet but confident. There was little arrogance in Joshua, and, unlike some leopards, he rarely was in an altercation. But, there was something very lethal about him. A good man to have at your back, Drake had always felt he would make a bitter, relentless and merciless enemy. They’d worked together for several years and never once had Joshua said anything about his past to him—or to any of the others on the team.
Drake stumbled and nearly went down, shocking himself. Joshua caught him as Remy shut the door on any audience.
“Put the stubborn son of a bitch down on the couch,” Remy ordered. “Our fearless leader has dripped blood all over the floor.”
“I’m not your damned leader,” Drake denied, groaning as Joshua helped lower him to the couch. “I think your sister is a pain right now.”
“Hey!” Saria protested. “It’s not my fault you think you’re a white knight.”
“For future reference,” Lojos said helpfully, holding a bag of ice to the back of his head. “Everyone thinks Saria is a pain. And for your information, poor Jules didn’ hit my sister. He would never hit a girl, let alone Saria. Neither Gaston nor Jules would harm a woman.”
“No one here would dare hit my sister,” Remy said. “Any one of us would kill them. Theirody would be buried so deep in the swamp no one would ever find them.”
There was an edge in Remy’s voice that had Drake turning his head to study the set features. Yeah, he could believe the brothers were capable of getting rid of anyone hurting their sister and Remy was letting him know.
“So what did happen to your face, Saria?” Drake asked, although he could barely see anymore. Blood dripped steadily from the wounds on his face and burned in his eyes.
She knelt beside the couch, handed him a cool cloth for his chest while she went to work on his face. “They hit Lojos as we were going inside . . .”
“Yeah,” Lojos interjected. “Jules and Gaston had no problem hittin’ me.” He glared at his brothers. “It’s evident none of you had a problem with them hittin’ me.”
Remy feigned indifference. “Our new exalted leader took care of that.”
Drake jerked Saria’s wrist down, removing the cloth so he could send Remy his darkest, most intimidating scowl. “Shut the hell up, you Cajun jackass. I’m not your leader.”
Saria laughed softly. “Maybe you really do need me after all. You certainly get yourself into messes. Don’ worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Joshua and Jerico snickered. Evan turned back to the window hastily, but not before Drake caught the big grin.
“I hope all of you are enjoying yourselves,” he snapped and laid his head back, closing his eyes, more because he had to than because he was dismissing them. “Tell me what happened to your face, honey.”
Saria wasn’t a dabber. She washed the blood from the deep lacerations and then, before he knew what was happening, doused him with disinfectant. He nearly fell off the couch, howling. Saria rolled her eyes and pushed him back down.