big as he was in his fur, which was to say, larger than their wilder cousins who had only the one form. With no time to strip, he shifted into his wolf form, his clothing tearing off in bits around him. It wasn’t ideal, but he’d fought like this before. It wouldn’t hamper him.
The hyenas were organized as they came for him. They’d hunted together, like this, before. They even looked a little alike. Perhaps they were a family of hyena shifters, living in the area, though he’d had no intel saying there were any dominant shifter claims on this part of the country. If there had been an Alpha claiming this place as part of his territory, Jim would have at least thought about seeking the Alpha’s permission or even cooperation, depending on what sort of guy he was. But there had been no Alpha. Ezra had double checked with the Lords.
Hyenas weren’t native to North America, though a few had to have immigrated over the years, Jim was sure. Still, they weren’t common, and if a Pack had taken up residence here and claimed it as territory, somebody would have mentioned it to the Lords, even if the hyenas themselves were reluctant to do so. Which meant, these were rogues. Either they were living nearby, under the radar for their own nefarious reasons, or they’d come here to do a job.
Killing a werewolf sounded like the sort of job a group like this might take on. Jim had met their kind before, when he was a SEAL, deployed to Africa. They hadn’t been exactly warm and cuddly then, on their home ground. They were even less so now, as they stalked him, surrounding him.
Jim didn’t even consider changing back to his human form, but he did think about the right moment to unleash his battle form. The in-between state that only the most powerful shifters could hold for any length of time offered all the strength of the animal and the opposable thumbs and other useful features of his human half. He wondered if any of those facing him could manage to hold their battle forms for any length of time.
Four against one, they could take turns, even if they couldn’t manage to hold it as long as Jim could. He had to be four times as strong as any of them…and then some. Good thing he’d stopped for dinner. He’d need the fuel to fight, though he wasn’t at all certain of the outcome. These hyenas were moving as a practiced unit. Jim might have just bitten off a little more than he could chew, but he knew one thing for certain… He’d walked right into Buford’s trap.
The trail had led him—by the hand, practically—to this. Buford had been a lot smarter than Jim had given him credit for being. Jim just hoped his mistake wouldn’t prove to be fatal.
One of the hyenas made a feint, and then, the one behind Jim charged, morphing to battle form even as he ran. Jim half-shifted, as well, ready for the clash of fists and claws. He would try to pace himself, and even if he couldn’t win, he was going to make these bastards bleed for what they were about to do to him.
*
Helen had a large beach bag full of fireworks, the two lighters, bandages and other supplies as she set out from the hotel, at midnight. She decided that the beach was too well-lit on the strip where light spilled out from the many businesses that were on or close to the beach. If anything was going to happen, it would likely be away from the tourist area, where the beach faded into the inky night.
She noted the wind direction. It was blowing toward her, so her scent wouldn’t carry to anyone in front of her right now. If she didn’t find Jim on the outbound trek, it would be much harder to sneak up on any shifters that might be in the area on the way back.
She heard snarls and a chilling laugh that sent shivers down her spine before she noticed a smudge of activity in the darkness in front of her and closer to the water. Something was churning up the sand. A fight.
Dropping to her knees in the scrubby brush behind a low rise of a sand dune, she reached into her beach bag. She’d worn dark clothing, and her bag was dark, but the moment she lit the fireworks, the night would