snapped her back into place again.
She sat behind the wheel, slightly dazed, trying to catch her breath as she took a physical inventory. As far as she could tell, she was okay. The engine was still running, and she cut it off, feeling the vehicle shudder and go still.
The one-car accident hadn’t been her fault. Her brakes had failed, and only the ditch had prevented her from tearing off into the swamp.
The car had been okay when she’d driven on the highway from New Orleans. And it had still been fine when she’d toured St. Germaine forty minutes ago.
Now her brakes were shot. Had Bubba done something to them while she’d been in the ladies room? Was that the big joke the guys had been laughing about? Or was it the voodoo priestess who had hexed her car on the way out of town?
That last thought made hysterical laughter bubble in her throat. It choked off quickly when she caught a flash of movement in the side mirror. The pickup truck that had followed her from town had stopped a little way down the shoulder. As she watched, the two guys wearing baseball caps got out.
After a brief conversation, they started walking toward her. So—did they intend to help a lady in distress? Or were they planning to have some fun—or worse—with the librarian stranded on an isolated road in the bayou.
One of them was tall and muscular. The other was short and squat, with a big belly. It could be Bob Mansard, although she couldn’t tell for sure because his face was hidden by his cap and sunglasses.
Maybe good old Bob had made the suggestion about screwing with her brakes while she was in the ladies room. Maybe Bubba had put a pinhole leak in the brake fluid line, so that the car would drive normally until she was well out of town.
And maybe not. Still, she wasn’t going to take a chance on the goodwill of these guys
Quickly she ducked down below the dashboard, retrieving the purse that had fallen on the floor of the passenger side.
Unwilling to wait in the car like a sitting decoy, she pulled out her Glock and gripped it in her free hand as she opened the car door. It hit against the edge of the ditch, and a green lizard scurried out of the way. She drew her gaze to the dark, scummy water, and she felt her stomach knot. Probably there were snakes in there. At least the position of the car meant she could leap to the shoulder without getting wet.
Scrambling out into the hot, heavy air, she faced the men, holding the gun down along her leg where they couldn’t see it as they ambled toward her—like they owned this deserted stretch of road, and their quarry was completely at their mercy.
Well, they were in for a big surprise. Back at the gas station, she hadn’t wanted to reveal her real purpose for coming to St Germaine. But she could take these guys, just the way she could take anybody else who had dared to mess with her over the past two years.
She thrived on danger, and now she could feel adrenaline pumping through her veins.
“Bring it on,” she muttered under her breath.
She was about to raise the gun and shout, “Hold it right there,” when they both stopped short, like they’d gotten a subliminal jolt of her thoughts.
One of them made a strangled sound, and she allowed herself a moment of satisfaction.
Then she saw that neither one of them was looking in her direction at all. They were staring toward the bayou, toward the darker shade under a stand of pines.
About thirty feet away was a large cat staring at them with glowing yellow eyes.
A jaguar, she thought. The jaguar Andre Gascon had convinced her was simply a local myth that someone was using to cause trouble between him and the town of St. Germaine. But this animal was no figment of her imagination. The two men had seen it, too.
Chapter Two
In the background, Morgan heard the sound of running feet, doors slamming, an engine roaring to life.
Tires spun on gravel as the truck in back of her made a U-turn and sped away, leaving her alone on the shoulder of the road—staring into the golden eyes of the jaguar.
Details assaulted her. The animal looked to be about two hundred pounds of spotted, muscular body, with huge paws and a black-tipped muzzle.
Once Andre Gascon had mentioned the jaguar