very low price. She asked for, and received, a room on the first floor, with a sliding glass door that led, after a few easily-overcome obstacles, to the beach. She knew within moments of entering the room—which was located on the far corner of the building—that the room next to hers, and several after that, were not occupied. Perfect.
She brought in her supplies and took a quick shower. She didn’t worry about trying to find Jim. His truck was parked right next to her little car, and she’d even put a small note on his windshield, instructing him to call her when he saw it. She didn’t really expect him to call. What she did expect was that, at some point in the middle of the night, there would be a confrontation of some sort on the beach. Then, she would have to act.
She set up her supplies near the sliding glass door for later, then went out to get the lay of the land and scout the beach a little while there was still a bare hint of sunlight. If she ran into Jim before everything kicked off, so much the better, but she doubted it would happen. When her mother had a vision this strong, things usually occurred according to what she’d seen.
*
Jim didn’t like what he’d found in Virginia Beach. The town was not filled with holiday makers, which was a relief, since the year was turning toward winter, but it was still a big place, with lots of nooks and crannies. He remembered better times spent here while he’d been in the service, among friends, but those days were long gone. The place was filled with the ghosts of memories past, friends lost in conflicts around the globe, and good times that would never come again.
Maudlin. How had he let himself get into such a depressing mood? Jim realized a lot of it had to do with leaving Helen behind in Pennsylvania. His inner wolf was in mourning, howling in his soul, wanting to turn around and go back to find her.
Ridiculous. She wasn’t his mate. How could she be? For one thing, she was much too good for the likes of him. She was a princess, and he was certainly no prince. He was more the palace guard, fit only to serve and protect, not to become romantically involved with the beautiful lady in the high tower.
And now, he was waxing poetic. Jim shook his head at his own fanciful notions.
He’d been on the phone with Ezra Tate, back in Grizzly Cove, and they had established that the paper trail definitely led here, to Virginia Beach. Buford—using two more of his many aliases—had paid for gas, using a couple of different credit cards, under a couple of different names, all the way here.
Jim just had to find him. It sounded so simple, but in reality, it was proving difficult. Jim decided to prowl up and down the boardwalk, the strip, and the beach. Hell, he’d even check out the ocean, if he had to. No way was he letting Buford—or whatever he was calling himself now—get away from him.
Jim had been up and down the strip three times already when the sun set. He paused to eat dinner at a beachfront restaurant, so he could keep watch on the darkening waters and the long strip of beach, sparsely populated at this time of year. When the sun set fully, the darker parts of the beach would be perfect for clandestine operations. Jim decided he would prowl the sands after dinner, for as long as it took. He had a strong feeling that he would find his prey there, in the dark.
Hours later, he was almost ready to give up. He’d been up and down the beach a number of times and had found nothing. There were a few good vantage points near the hotel where he’d reserved a room, basically to have a safe place to park his truck. He went down to the waterline and back, hoping to catch a scent—any scent—that might somehow indicate he was on the right track.
Alert at the first cackle, Jim was nonetheless caught by surprise when, of all things, a hyena Pack descended on him from downwind. He hadn’t scented them because their pungent odor had been carried away from his sensitive nose even before it could go much farther than a few feet from the spotted animals.
That they were shifters, he had no doubt. They were as