He didn’t bother to knock. It was Bijou’s house now, and whoever she employed would just have to learn fast that he was part of her life. He entered the high-ceilinged foyer with its white gleaming marble floors. The house was quiet. Too quiet to suit him. He inhaled, testing the air for scents. He caught the faint scent of lavender, and his sister’s comforting smell of spice and homemade bread. Dash smelled like cold medicine. More, he caught the scent of blood. Remy loosened his gun in his harness.
It was a large house, two stories, with numerous rooms. The house sprawled out lengthwise. He had only been in the big room where her father seemed to do most of his entertaining. He went there first. Immediately he felt as if he’d stepped back in time. The room was arranged exactly the same as the last time he’d been there, back when Bijou had been eight years old. It was as if someone kept the house as a shrine to Bodrie.
His stomach lurched again. Everything Bodrie Breaux represented went against everything Remy believed in. Had the man never married and produced a child, Remy wouldn’t have cared how he lived. Even if he’d dumped Bijou onto someone else to raise, Remy might have had a little more respect for him, but Bodrie was too selfish. He liked the idea of a single father struggling to raise his child alone. It played well in the tabloids and always garnered him more attention.
He didn’t want to search this empty mausoleum room by room looking for Bijou and Saria. Eventually his nose would take him to them, but in this instance, it was easier to use his phone. He didn’t want to spend one more moment in the house than necessary. His leopard detested the place, prowling close to the surface, uneasy, and letting Remy know all about it.
He texted Bijou. She didn’t reply. He frowned. He had full service. She’d replied earlier so he knew she had her phone on her. He tried a second time to no avail. The unease of his leopard began to take hold of him. He eased his gun from his harness and let his leopard senses take over.
The scent of blood grew stronger when he rounded the corner and entered a long hallway. The door closest to him stood open and he glanced inside, weapon ready. Dash was slumped on the ground, a pool stick inches from his hand. Clearly he’d been playing pool and not paying the least bit of attention to Remy’s earlier warning.
Remy, heart beating fast, leaned down and felt for his younger brother’s pulse. It was there, strong and steady. His skin was hot to the touch. Dash was running a fever. Dash moved, started to groan, and his eyes snapped open when Remy put a heavy hand over his mouth to keep any sound from escaping.
Dash looked mortified. Pale and mortified. Remy held a finger to his lips. Dash nodded and pushed himself into a sitting position. He gritted his teeth and touched the back of his head. His hand came away smeared with blood.
Remy leaned in close. “Where are the girls?” He kept his tone low, knowing Dash’s leopard would hear him.
“They were goin’ to the master bedroom to look for a box Bijou said her daddy kept in there. Said it was important to her and that’s why she wanted to come. She told me to play a few games of pool. I thought she wanted privacy.” Dash looked at the blood on his fingers. “I should have stayed with them, Remy. I’m sorry.”
“Who hit you?”
“I never saw them. I never even heard them. My ears are stopped up and so is my nose. I have a hell of a cold. My leopard suddenly lunged toward the surface and stupid me, didn’t realize he was tryin’ to protect me.” Shame and guilt came over his face. “I was too busy playin’ the game. You know how much I love it and this table is awesome.”
Remy let his leopard take over just enough to smell everything in the room. He’d been close enough to Jason Durang to catch his scent. “Never mind, Dash,” he said grimly. “I know who it is.”
Remy got one hand under his brother’s arm and helped him up. He glanced around them. They were surrounded by Bodrie. His platinum and gold records were encased in glass and hung on all four walls.
Dash swayed but steadied himself. He pulled a gun from his boot and held it up. “I’m with you, Remy. The room was that way,” he pointed down the hall to where one of two double doors had been left open.
The hall was wide, ceilings high. Priceless guitars hung on the walls. Remy knew each was worth a fortune, but because Bodrie had been the previous owner, each guitar could be sold for far more than he’d make in a year, and there were dozens of them.
Bijou might not realize it, but her staff was loyal to her. They weren’t stealing and the temptation had to be great. He could also see why she’d left her father’s estate alone for so long. Where did one even start sorting through things?