Armando swore as he jumped to his feet. The hunter stepped back, gave way immediately. “I don’t like any of this; If Rachael isn’t back at that hut tomorrow we get out of here. All of us are going to pay her a little visit.” When the hunter started toward his tent, Armando caught his arm and jerked him around. “Not you. You have a job to do. You took the money, go get the leopard. Get out of here.”
Elijah crouched in the tree, hidden in the foliage overlooking the camp watching the last of the professional hunters reluctantly leave the safety of the site. He waited with endless patience, knowing the rhythm of the hunting camps. Talk died down when the mosquitoes came. Men slapped at the insects, tempers rising. The rain began, a steady downpour increasing everyone’s misery. They were
350
Christine Feehan
essentially city men, only the four hunters were professionals and now three of the four were dead. That put a pall over the campsite. Men disappeared into tents, leaving only the guards at the perimeters. All of them tried to shel-ter beneath trees. None paid attention to the branches above them. Still he waited, patient. Leopards were always patient. He didn’t mind the insects or the rain. This was his world and they were the intruders. He settled down to wait, to get the rhythm of the camp and the men in it.
It was important to go in quietly, get the deed done and get out unseen. The camp was heavily armed. Elijah didn’t want a bloodbath here in the forest. They didn’t want an investigation. This had to be a stealthy, silent assassination. He crouched there in the bushes not ten feet from one of the sentries and watched his uncle. The light from the lamp illuminated the inside of the tent. One side remained open to give Armando a wide sweep of the area with his gun. And the gun was never more than an inch from his fingertips. One by one the lamps were turned out so that darkness settled over the camp.
The wind blew. The rain fell. Elijah waited until the guards began to grow sleepy. The leopard suddenly came to life. Elijah crept closer, using the freeze-frame, slow motion stalk of the skilled leopard. His focused gaze never left Armando moving around in his tent, gun inches from his fingers. Demon incarnate. Murderer. Every dark deed Armando had committed against his family raged in Elijah’s soul. He slipped passed the first guard. The man looked right at him twice and never saw the leopard slinking into the camp.
A man emerged from his tent and stumbled to a nearby tree. He nearly stepped on the leopard, missing the creature by no more than a few inches. Elijah crept forward out of the man’s path, gaining another yard. Armando went to the entrance and swept the area for the hundredth time, uneasy with the way the night felt. The rifle was cradled in his arms snug against his chest, Elijah didn’t take his eves
WILD RAIN
351
off his target, lying hidden in the small shrubbery only a few yards from the tent.
Armando turned his back and the leopard crept forward in silence, moving like fluid over the uneven ground, paws cushioning the heavy body so there was no noise. Only the steady sound of the rain. Elijah paused at the entrance to the tent, careful to stay in the shadow where the light spilling from the lamp couldn’t reach him. His gaze settled on his target, his muscles bunched, coiled tight until he was a living spring. He felt the power rush through him, over him.
As if sensing danger, Armando turned back, half lifting the rifle, his eyes searching the night frantically. The leopard hit him hard, driving him backward, teeth sinking into the throat. The powerful jaws crunched down hard in a crushing blow, but the teeth hit metal, not flesh. Elijah tried to power through the protective barrier, bringing up claws to rake at the exposed belly. The same coating of metal covered the soft parts of the body.
Armando had gone over backward, landing hard on the ground, dropping his rifle in the process. The jaws clamped harder, crushing his throat, cutting off all air in spite of his hidden armor. The knife, hidden up his sleeve, sprang into his hand, and he plunged it into the leopard’s side repeatedly. The leopard hung on grimly, the yellow-green eyes boring into him. Armando thrashed wildly, but no sound emerged from his laboring throat.