Wild Fire
Page 118
She had to assume that not only Harry was armed, but Alberto as well and that both were ready to kill her at a moment’s notice. Was Conner close enough to stop them? Did he know? He was making them believe he thought any threat might come from an outside source, not them. Harry had backed away from Ottila the other night because he knew just how dangerous the man really was. He knew the truth, just as Imelda did—that Ottila and Suma were leopards. Imelda had shared her knowledge with her grandfather and his trusted bodyguard.
Alberto waved toward a looping path. “Harry, this way, I want to show Isabeau my favorite spot.”
“If you don’t mind, Alberto,” Isabeau said, “it’s getting difficult for me to walk. I thought we could take a look at the greenhouse and get off the uneven surface. Besides, I’d love to see the size of your vegetables if you’re using this soil.”
Alberto smiled at her. “I shouldn’t have even considered you coming out to the garden. I just wanted to show it to someone who would really appreciate it. We can go sit on the verandah and visit. The greenhouse has recently been sprayed and no one can go in for twenty-four hours.”
“How disappointing,” Isabeau said. She’d managed to get them within thirty feet of the building.
Conner was much closer, but seemingly disinterested, although he was talking into his radio. His gaze continually swept the rooftops and the fenceline. She took a cautious sniff of the air, testing for the scent of leopards. If Alberto and Harry knew, had others been hired as well? “I used to grow vegetables when I lived at home with my father, but now that I travel so much,” she shrugged, but took another few steps toward the greenhouse.
“Another time, perhaps,” Alberto said as Harry pushed the chair toward the house.
The door to the greenhouse swung open and for one moment there was the sound of a child crying, hastily cut off as the servant slammed the door closed. The woman whirled around to see them all staring at her, Alberto furious. He swore at her in the local Indian dialect even as he reached beneath his lap blanket, as understanding dawned. Alberto was a shrewd, cunning man who had put together the Cortez empire. In that split second he realized he’d fallen into a trap and that they’d come to find the children, not negotiate deals or friendships. Isabeau saw the knowledge on his face.
Conner suddenly moved, his speed blinding, as he rushed them. Simultaneously, the scent of leopard filled her lungs. She screamed and threw herself toward Conner, terrified as she recognized the overpowering smell of her worst nightmare, barely registering that the old man was aiming a gun at her head.
Harry whirled to face the large cat dropping out of the tree above their heads, his shotgun bucking in his hands. The shotgun boomed, a deafening sound that exploded through the air just as the sound of gunfire erupted from the direction of the house. Alberto’s deceptively sweet mask had been replaced by a twisted, cunning killer, lips drawn back in a snarl as he whipped up the gun and fired several shots at her just as Conner took her to the ground, covering her body with his.
Alberto was far too late. Ottila was on him, driving the chair over backward, spilling the body onto the ground. A powerful swipe of the paw sent the gun skidding across the ground out of the old man’s reach. Harry swung his shotgun on Conner and Isabeau in an attempt to complete the job Alberto had started. Bullets spat into the trees and ground around them as men began firing at anything and everything in the yard, unable to tell what was happening either in the house or out in the yard. Without someone in command, chaos broke out and the guards began to panic.
Conner fired his gun from his hip as he burst off the ground, drawing fire away from Isabeau, the bullets cutting a straight dotted line across Harry’s chest. Harry tried to bring up the shotgun again, but he went to his knees, the weight too much for him with the blood pumping from his body.
Isabeau sprinted for the greenhouse, ignoring her screaming body. She caught a glimpse of the leopard turning his attention back to Alberto as the old man dragged himself through the dirt toward the gun. The leopard’s expression stayed the same, focused completely on his prey, all the while the mind beneath those spots was working a cunning, savage plan. The eye contact, laser-sharp, never left Alberto. Ears flattened, belly close to the ground, the leopard crept closer. Alberto screamed and gestured wildly for the cat to leave him, but those merciless eyes never blinked.
The leopard rushed forward, lightning fast, and grabbed his prey with extended claws. The hind legs were firmly on the ground as the suffocating bite was delivered. The cat’s canine teeth forced apart the two neck vertebrae, breaking the spinal cord.
Isabeau hadn’t realized she’d stopped and was staring while a hail of bullets struck just a few short yards from her. Conner grabbed her hand and yanked her into motion, practically dragging her to the greenhouse. When he tried to pull the door open, it was locked from the inside. He simply shot the lock and jerked it open, thrusting Isabeau behind him. He rolled in first, going right, clearing the room before he called to her.
Isabeau hurried inside and stepped behind him, trying to stay small and not make noise as he threaded in and out among the plants, making his way toward the back of the building. There was another door, clearly leading to a small room, probably originally a potting or tool room. There was the sound of a scuffle. A curse. A yelp of pain. Conner put his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it.
Isabeau flattened herself against the wall at his gesture to stay back as he eased the door open. At once bullets smashed into the door and zipped past into the greenhouse. Conner kicked the door all the way open, standing to one side back behind the doorjamb. A very scared- looking man held a boy in front of him like a shield. Isabeau gasped. It was Adan’s grandson, Artureo.
Alberto waved toward a looping path. “Harry, this way, I want to show Isabeau my favorite spot.”
“If you don’t mind, Alberto,” Isabeau said, “it’s getting difficult for me to walk. I thought we could take a look at the greenhouse and get off the uneven surface. Besides, I’d love to see the size of your vegetables if you’re using this soil.”
Alberto smiled at her. “I shouldn’t have even considered you coming out to the garden. I just wanted to show it to someone who would really appreciate it. We can go sit on the verandah and visit. The greenhouse has recently been sprayed and no one can go in for twenty-four hours.”
“How disappointing,” Isabeau said. She’d managed to get them within thirty feet of the building.
Conner was much closer, but seemingly disinterested, although he was talking into his radio. His gaze continually swept the rooftops and the fenceline. She took a cautious sniff of the air, testing for the scent of leopards. If Alberto and Harry knew, had others been hired as well? “I used to grow vegetables when I lived at home with my father, but now that I travel so much,” she shrugged, but took another few steps toward the greenhouse.
“Another time, perhaps,” Alberto said as Harry pushed the chair toward the house.
The door to the greenhouse swung open and for one moment there was the sound of a child crying, hastily cut off as the servant slammed the door closed. The woman whirled around to see them all staring at her, Alberto furious. He swore at her in the local Indian dialect even as he reached beneath his lap blanket, as understanding dawned. Alberto was a shrewd, cunning man who had put together the Cortez empire. In that split second he realized he’d fallen into a trap and that they’d come to find the children, not negotiate deals or friendships. Isabeau saw the knowledge on his face.
Conner suddenly moved, his speed blinding, as he rushed them. Simultaneously, the scent of leopard filled her lungs. She screamed and threw herself toward Conner, terrified as she recognized the overpowering smell of her worst nightmare, barely registering that the old man was aiming a gun at her head.
Harry whirled to face the large cat dropping out of the tree above their heads, his shotgun bucking in his hands. The shotgun boomed, a deafening sound that exploded through the air just as the sound of gunfire erupted from the direction of the house. Alberto’s deceptively sweet mask had been replaced by a twisted, cunning killer, lips drawn back in a snarl as he whipped up the gun and fired several shots at her just as Conner took her to the ground, covering her body with his.
Alberto was far too late. Ottila was on him, driving the chair over backward, spilling the body onto the ground. A powerful swipe of the paw sent the gun skidding across the ground out of the old man’s reach. Harry swung his shotgun on Conner and Isabeau in an attempt to complete the job Alberto had started. Bullets spat into the trees and ground around them as men began firing at anything and everything in the yard, unable to tell what was happening either in the house or out in the yard. Without someone in command, chaos broke out and the guards began to panic.
Conner fired his gun from his hip as he burst off the ground, drawing fire away from Isabeau, the bullets cutting a straight dotted line across Harry’s chest. Harry tried to bring up the shotgun again, but he went to his knees, the weight too much for him with the blood pumping from his body.
Isabeau sprinted for the greenhouse, ignoring her screaming body. She caught a glimpse of the leopard turning his attention back to Alberto as the old man dragged himself through the dirt toward the gun. The leopard’s expression stayed the same, focused completely on his prey, all the while the mind beneath those spots was working a cunning, savage plan. The eye contact, laser-sharp, never left Alberto. Ears flattened, belly close to the ground, the leopard crept closer. Alberto screamed and gestured wildly for the cat to leave him, but those merciless eyes never blinked.
The leopard rushed forward, lightning fast, and grabbed his prey with extended claws. The hind legs were firmly on the ground as the suffocating bite was delivered. The cat’s canine teeth forced apart the two neck vertebrae, breaking the spinal cord.
Isabeau hadn’t realized she’d stopped and was staring while a hail of bullets struck just a few short yards from her. Conner grabbed her hand and yanked her into motion, practically dragging her to the greenhouse. When he tried to pull the door open, it was locked from the inside. He simply shot the lock and jerked it open, thrusting Isabeau behind him. He rolled in first, going right, clearing the room before he called to her.
Isabeau hurried inside and stepped behind him, trying to stay small and not make noise as he threaded in and out among the plants, making his way toward the back of the building. There was another door, clearly leading to a small room, probably originally a potting or tool room. There was the sound of a scuffle. A curse. A yelp of pain. Conner put his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it.
Isabeau flattened herself against the wall at his gesture to stay back as he eased the door open. At once bullets smashed into the door and zipped past into the greenhouse. Conner kicked the door all the way open, standing to one side back behind the doorjamb. A very scared- looking man held a boy in front of him like a shield. Isabeau gasped. It was Adan’s grandson, Artureo.
