Bowman dragged himself over to Jamie, who was out cold. Damn it. Kenzie had the right idea, but not enough Shifters to make it work.
He had to do something, or this would turn into a bloodbath, all Shifters down. He snarled at the nearest Shifter, the cub who’d begged Kenzie to come help. The cub was a Lupine, one of Bowman’s clan. Bowman made him understand that he should look after Jamie, then Bowman left them and hobbled down the back hall again.
He growled at the bar’s owner, who was cowering with the vet against the far wall, until the man got the idea and unlocked and opened the back door.
The rear parking lot was still mostly empty, only a few cars and trucks left. None of the vehicles were what Bowman needed, so he crept around to the front of the roadhouse, keeping to the shadows.
A row of cars in the front lot had been flattened by the attacking creature. The trucks had fared a little better, but most were dented and shoved askew.
The truck Bowman sought rested at the edge of the lot, untouched. The pickup was a giant of a thing with a huge cab, raised body, and oversized tires made for off-roading.
Cade’s truck. His baby. Cade had bought it used from a guy who ran monster trucks, and spent his days happily tinkering it into a honed machine.
The beast paid no attention to Bowman as he crept across the lot, making for the truck, which told Bowman the creature wasn’t very smart. Even an ordinary animal made sure it knew what threat was behind it.
Bowman reached the pickup and stopped a moment to rest in its shadow. For the next step, he’d have to shift back to human, which he knew was going to hurt.
Shifters usually healed fast. Cuts closed rapidly and bruises vanished as the Shifter’s metabolism strove to make them whole again. They’d been bred to be fighters ages ago—battle beasts, they’d been called—meant to fight wars for others without suffering too many casualties.
Nice idea. Hadn’t worked. Shifters had died being forced to fight other Shifters, until the Shifters had decided to combine forces and turn on their masters.
Shifter physique had remained unchanged through the passing centuries, though, even if these days Shifters preferred to watch TV, drink beer, and get laid instead of fighting battles to the death for the Fae. Bowman knew his leg had already begun its healing process, bones and muscles knitting. Even so, this shift was going to be a bitch.
Bowman suppressed a howl, then a groan as he moved from wolf form to human. His body protested, sinews not wanting to change and stretch. Pain lanced his broken leg but Bowman ended up human once more, panting against the side of the pickup, holding on to it and fighting not to pass out.
Cade had locked his truck, but it was an older model, with no fancy electronic locks to foil would-be thieves. He’d locked it against humans, anyway; Shifters could easily break in, but they never would. Shifters didn’t touch one another’s things. They respected territory—violating it was deadly dangerous and bone-headed stupid.
Bowman took a few more breaths, waiting until he could pull himself all the way up, then drew back his fist and punched out the window. He clenched his teeth against that pain, shaking blood from his hand. Then he brushed aside broken glass and flipped the latch to unlock the door.
Another breath as he yanked the door open and used it to lever his body into the cab. He landed on the seat, then clutched the steering wheel and rested his forehead on it, searing pain making him want to pass out again.
Bowman’s speculations had been right—when the splint had fallen away as he shifted, his leg had twisted in the setting, and it was broken again. But he’d have to live with it for now.
Cade had the truck’s keys, but that fact didn’t slow Bowman down. He had the steering column broken and the wires tapped together in a matter of seconds. The truck roared to life.
The beast spun around at the sudden sound, at last taking its attention from the roadhouse. Bowman turned on all the truck’s lights—headlights, fog lights, spotlights—every gimmicky piece Cade had bolted to the thing—put the truck in gear, and rammed his good foot to the gas pedal.
The truck’s tires spun on the dirt, then caught, and the truck leapt forward. The monster hesitated, red eyes staring, then it snarled and charged at Bowman. The Shifters who were still whole poured out of the bar after it.
The beast rushed the truck, and Bowman drove straight for it, never wavering.
He hit the creature at fifty miles an hour. The truck’s windshield shattered as the monster slammed across the hood and onto the cab, crushing the roof under its weight. Bowman dove down onto the seat, his foot coming off the gas, but the truck kept moving of its own momentum, the weight on the cab sending it into a tailspin.