Leopard's Prey

again.” His hands did settle on her thin shoulders. Hard. But he stayed still, resisting the urge to make her a target for his rage all over again. She looked at him without wincing. “Do you understand me? This will never happen again. Will it?”
    Her eyes on his, she shook her head.
    “Say it. I want to hear you say it. You’re done with drugs, alcohol and anything else that father of yours has to offer.”
    “I’m done with drugs and alcohol,” she had repeated in a low, steady voice.
    “I’m takin’ you home and havin’ a word with your daddy.” He planned to beat the man within an inch of his life, just as he’d promised her he’d do to her if he caught her with drugs again.
    That’s when she’d given him that smile. That so small, tentative smile, as if she knew what he wanted to do. “It won’t do any good, but thank you all the same.”
    The child was standing there thanking him and he’d just committed an unpardonable sin, shaking her hard enough to injure her. And she was right, which only infuriated him more. Even his chief wouldn’t back him up. He would have to take her back to that mansion with its swimming pools, home theater, bowling alley and all the drugs and alcohol and blatant corruption and immorality that went on there.
    She didn’t say a word as they made the journey from the hotel to her home. The gates were manned by a guard who waved them through and frantically called up to the house. He stopped her as they approached the door to the ten-thousand-square-foot mansion.
    “You know what I did, layin’ my hands on you like that, was wrong. No one, law enforcement or not, has the right to ever touch you, especially in anger.”
    She nodded solemnly, her gaze steady on his, a rather disconcerting stare for one so young.
    “Are you sorry?” she asked.
    There was nothing in her voice or on her face to give away her feelings on the matter.
    He frowned, thinking it over. She deserved the truth, but he wasn’t certain he knew the truth. His gut had reacted. His leopard, snarling. Raging. But, no, it wasn’t right, yet . . .
    “I don’t know the answer to that, Bijou,” he said, brutally honest with her, with himself. “I don’t know what else I could have done to get your attention or to . . .” He faded off, knowing he’d been frustrated, not having any idea what to do with an eight-year-old child who was already an adult and heading down a path of destruction he couldn’t stop.
    He wasn’t a fool. Good people often took bribes. They had families and needed the money. Cops had extra work when Bijou’s father was in town, hiring out as bodyguards and security. Often the extra perks included young, good-looking women. Bodrie Breaux was never going to have to answer for his deeds, unless there was truly a judgment day. Neither were the others whose job it was to protect this child, but took his money instead.
    He could arrest Bodrie, but he’d lose his job, just as Bijou said. He couldn’t argue with her, and he couldn’t explain why the sight of her in that hotel room was so disturbing, surrounded by drugs and men who surely would have taken advantage of her had not another guest become upset at seeing a child with three older men going into a hotel room.
    He reached past Bijou and opened the front door, indicating for her to precede him. She straightened her shoulders and her chin went up. A sulky, sullen expression crept over her delicate features as she shook her wild mane of hair to let it settle in her eyes. She marched in with Remy behind her.
    There were needles lying around the marble floors; a bowl filled with pills and lines of cocaine lay out on a mahogany coffee table. Empty bottles of various strong alcoholic beverages along with empty wine bottles were scattered around the room. Several band members in different states of undress lay huddled on pillows, or on couches with one and sometimes two young women. Boxes of unused condoms were scattered around the room and used condoms were on the floor and the expensive rugs. Bodrie Breaux sprawled naked in a stupor between two naked women.
    Bijou didn’t look at any of them. She kept her too-old eyes on him. There was no doubt she could read the distaste on his face. “Don’t do it. If you arrest him, he’ll be out in an hour and you’ll lose your badge. Don’t bother. I’d rather have you around.”
    “Who are they?” He nodded toward the two women with Bodrie. One had lipstick smeared across