“The cub’s mother.”

“She’s still out there somewhere. As soon as we hit New Orleans, I’ve got to arrange a search party.”

“And in the meantime, I’ll set in motion the genetic studies necessary to figure out exactly what happened to those animals, try to ascertain who might have been capable of all this.”

“Good. I’ll call tomorrow to see what you found.”

He began to turn away, but she grabbed his arm.

“Wait, Jack. I can have everything set up at ACRES before nightfall.”

His brow crinkled in confusion, not understanding the implication behind her words.

“I’m going with you tonight,” she said.

His crinkles failed to smooth. If anything, they grew deeper.

She sighed in exasperation. “When you go hunting for the cat, I’m coming along.”

He stared hard at her, his features turning granite. “No. There’s no need for you to come. It’ll be too dangerous.”

Anger warmed through her-and a part of her appreciated feeling anything after so much death. She took strength from that.

“Look, Jack. I’ve hunted big game before. I’m an expert marksman with a tranquilizer gun.”

“So am I-and I’m not talking about a tranquilizer gun. And I know the bayou better than you.”

“And I know big cats better than you.”

“Lorna-”

“C’mon, Jack. Be reasonable. If I were a man, would we even be having this conversation? You told me that you were going to put together a team of experts: trackers, hunters, your Special Response Team. I’m offering you my expertise.”

He looked ready to argue, but she refused to back down-and not out of pride.

“I know big cat behavior better than anyone south of the Mason-Dixon Line.” She stared him square in the eye. “My knowledge could save someone’s life. You know that. Or is preserving your male ego worth someone dying over?”

She knew those last words weren’t fair. Her anger had gotten the best of her. Though before she could take her words back, Jack turned away.