Page 56 of Handcuffed to the Bear

Mara Fallon marched into view—or limped, rather, seeming considerably the worse for wear after tangling with Jack. Unlike her brothers, she showed no inclination to shift this time. She was dressed in loose sweats, with her hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail.

She was also carrying a hunting rifle with a scope.

Casey’s stomach went cold.

“Now,” Mara went on, raising the rifle to point at Casey. “Let’s stop messing around, take care of both of them, and get back to a place that has hot showers and decent restaurants.”

CHAPTER15

As soon asCasey vanished into the woods, Jack kicked himself for letting her go.

She was a civilian, for God’s sake. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into. She had courage and heart, but what she didn’t have was training and experience. She could easily get lost on the hillside, stumble into the lions, lose her head and?—

No, he told himself.No. She was right; they were no longer handcuffed together, but they were still teammates. Involuntary ones, but teammates all the same. And he had no more right to coddle her than any agent or soldier he’d worked with.

Besides, with Casey gone, he could take a couple of minutes to muster his strength before shifting.

The downside of fast shifter healing was that the energy had to come from somewhere. An injured shifter needed rest and sleep and food—and lots of it. He’d had very little of any of the three.

He was struggling to hold it together for Casey’s sake. If she knew how much it was taking out of him just tomoveright now ... hell. He hoped he didn’t have to fight, but had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to get a choice about that.

He couldn’t wait any longer, not if Casey ran into danger up ahead. He pushed himself into his change, letting the human fade back and the bear come forward. It didn’t work at first. He had to push as hard as he ever had, until his head swam and his stomach lurched, and he almost fell over. Black spots bloomed in front of his eyes.

But he was on four legs now, instead of hands and knees.

Jack panted heavily, his shaggy head hanging. He wasn’t sure if he could do that again. He might pass out the next time he tried.

So make it count, genius.

He started lumbering forward, following Casey’s trail.

The wet foliage held scent well. He was most of the way down the mountain when a lion’s roar echoed from the hillside, taken up by other lions’ throats until the forest rang with it.

Those sons of bitches must have found Casey. There was no other explanation.

Jack leaped forward, dredging up reserves of strength he hadn’t known he still possessed. Not many things could stand in the way of a determined bear. He plowed through the brush like it wasn’t even there.

He came to a halt at the edge of a clearing. Damned nearsightedness—he couldn’t see more than blurs, but his nose told him he was alone and there was a vehicle of some sort parked in the clearing.

Casey had mentioned a helicopter.

There was no time for finesse. He lumbered to it, tore open the hatch to the helicopter’s engine, and with a few swipes of his powerful paws, made sure none of the Fallons would be using it to hunt them from the air anytime soon.

Then he took off again, running. Casey’s scent carried him to a much larger opening in the trees, where he paused again.

He was at the edge of some kind of field. People were talking distantly. He couldn’t make out the words, but there were at least two or three of them. Lynx smell—Casey was with them. And lion. There was a whole lot of lion.

It was going to be difficult to approach without being seen. Afternoon had drawn down to early evening, but there was still a lot of light, and enormous grizzly bears were hard to hide.

He used his nose again. A bear’s sense of smell was keener than almost any other animal’s, sharper even than a dog’s. He smelled the old-wood scent of commercial lumber, the tang of metal, gasoline’s sharpness, the lightly sweetish smell of woodsmoke. Diesel exhaust. Propane.

Gun oil. His ears lowered. They had at least one gun, probably a rifle.

Casey’s smell altered. She’d shifted to human. He could smell blood, but he didn’t think it was hers.

So, Jack, what do you have to work with?He knew there were buildings and vehicles, but he couldn’t think of a way to use that to his advantage. The ocean’s smell was very strong, and Casey had said there was a boat. He’d have to get past them somehow, though, to get to it.

He’d taken out the possibility of stealing the helicopter, but he didn’t think he could fake his way through flying one. A small plane, maybe. They were pretty simple. Helicopters ... no. All he’d do was crash and add their bones to the island’s charnel tally.

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