Page 25 of Hoofin’ It

I lifted my right arm and revealed the holster containing her leopard print Desert Eagle. “Why did you do such a terrible thing to such a respectable gun, Mom?”

“You little shit!” Mom cuffed the back of my head, and I yelped. “That cabinet was locked. How’d you get into it?”

“I told you not to hide the keys between the mattresses,” Dad muttered.

“Did you really think I was going to sit around the house unarmed? It’s all Lewis’s fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

“You brought a vest for me, you encouraged me to borrow Mom’s gun, and you brought two bikes, helmets, and biker jackets. I’m pretty sure you begged me to come after them.”

“I’m sorry, Patsy. He looked so sad and lonely. I couldn’t leave him home by himself. I installed a tracker on his phone, so when we use him as bait, if they kidnap him and sell him as a sex slave, we’ll be able to track him.”

My parents’ eyes bulged, and they gaped at my godfather.

Dad recovered first. “Why would they want Shane as a sex slave?”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You weren’t modeling before you got yourself a marble for an eye, son.”

“Think this through carefully, Justin. He’s your son. Werewolves have a reputation for a reason. If they find out he’s a werewolf’s puppy, he’ll rise to the top of their list of potential victims. Once he decides to settle down and finds the woman of his dreams, she’s going to be a very happy lady.”

My mom’s cheeks turned pink. “You may have a point.”

“Mom!”

“Oh, don’t you start, Shane. You’re a grown man. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“You know what, I’m going to take a shower while you all discuss my future career as a sex slave because I don’t want to hear it. Try to have something resembling a plan by the time I’m done.”

“If you want a shower, you’ll have to go to your room, because we have a jet tub instead.”

If they thought I was going to my room when theirs had a jet tub, they were insane. “I think I’ll manage.”

Chapter Eight

Nothing was better than napping while soothing jets massaged my sore muscles. A persistent knock at the bathroom door woke me, and I grumbled curses at the cooled water.

“Did you drown, Shane?” my father asked. “Unless you come out or at least acknowledge me, I’ll break this door down.”

“Don’t break the hotel, Dad.”

“Get out of there already. We’re ready to get to work. Apparently, leaving you in the hotel isn’t an option.”

I almost regretted missing my godfather arguing with my parents about including me in plans that could get me killed or forced to be an unwilling participant in a sex trafficking operation. I definitely didn’t want to be involved unless I was taking part in a raid to destroy it. “All right, all right. Keep your pants on, Dad. I’ll get out in a few minutes.”

“How about you get out now? You’re going to fall asleep again. I’d rather my son didn’t drown today.”

“So it’s okay if I drown a different day?”

“No. Get out of the tub so we can put this plan together.”

My mother laughed. “Expect to be cuddled into submission, Shane.”

If Dad was feeling needy enough Mom felt the need to warn me, I was going to have to endure at least an hour of him hovering. “You may have one hug after I’ve finished my bath and gotten dressed, Dad. One. Not two, not one that lasts an hour, one normal hug.”

“Thanks, Patsy,” Dad grumbled. “Five minutes, Shane. Don’t make me come in there.”