Page 31 of Hoofin’ It

Reaching down, I turned the screen off, put the phone in her hand, and shifted on the seat so she could reach my back pocket. Between giggles, she sucked in a breath, and her small hand worked my phone into my jeans.

When the waiter came around to claim the device, he’d see me pull it out of my back pocket, which would explain why it wasn’t on the table with my wallet anymore. I intended to wipe the device on my jeans before handing it over to rub away her fingerprints in case they were smart enough to check for them.

“If you could make your own luck right now, what would you do?”

While making a run for it and taking a cold shower occupied the top two spots, I had a rather extensive list of things I wouldn’t mind trying with a woman clever enough to take advantage of the opportunity I had created for her. “Some things shouldn’t be said in polite company.”

The last thing I expected was for her to slink her way onto my lap and straddle my legs. “Then I guess we’ll have to stop talking for a while.”

Chapter Ten

Had things gone my way, I would have escaped the nightclub with a few suspicious bruises on my throat, a newfound appreciation for a woman on my lap, and the satisfaction of being involved with breaking part of a sex trafficking operation.

The start of the show ruined my plans.

No one had told me the nightclub had an incubus and a succubus and wasn’t afraid to use them. Every last one of my good intentions leapt out the nearest window, and my new partner didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. The incubus and succubus had a lot to do with that.

Fortunately, the show had ended before the cops and FBI arrived. Somehow, I hadn’t lost my pants. Pants made facing a bust much easier to deal with, especially when I hadn’t consumed enough Scotch to get drunk but had drunk enough to get hungover. While I could have retrieved my shirt, which had gotten tossed out of reach, I decided fetching it wasn’t worth the effort.

I had no idea where the Scotch had gone, but I needed a drink. Exhaustion weighed me down, but my worries and regrets kept me wide awake, as there was no nice way to tell a woman she needed to be tested for the lycanthropy virus. Sally watched the raid kneeling on the bench beside me, her chin resting on her arms, completely at ease with her rather nude state. The cops and FBI agents mostly ignored us, and Sally had a lot to do with that. Every time someone approached us, she told them to deal with the rest of the club first, driving them away with snarls worthy of a werewolf.

With her lithe body built for strength and pride etched into every line of her, Sally lacked traditional beauty, but I couldn’t help but stare.

She flashed me a smile. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?” I doubted she had any reason to thank me for my part in the evening’s activities. Then again, maybe she did.

I had prevented her from being shot in New York. That counted for something, right?

“Catching on to what I needed. This didn’t go down as I expected. I thought I’d be stuck here for a few weeks before I got my hands on a phone.”

I gave the small table a shove and thumped my new boots on top of it, aware of the two spare phones and the battery jabbing my ankles. “I set that up hoping you’d message me with something I could use, but your way was even better. Honestly, I’d sent your picture to my parents to send to the police, hoping to hit a missing person record to justify a raid. Also, you’re going to need to be tested for the lycanthropy virus, Sally. I had absolutely no intention of—”

Sally shifted her chin off her arm, reached over, and clapped her hand over my mouth. “My name’s Marian, I’m an undercover FBI agent, and if you ever call me Sally again, I’ll kill you.”

I believed her. I wouldn’t want reminded I’d spent time as an animal, carted around the United States in the back of a van, and been stuck with me the entire time. Add in the run-ins with my parents, and she would definitely have just cause to hate me. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What I’d like to know is how you’re here, as the last time I saw you, you were bleeding to death in a ditch. I almost had a heart attack when you came into the club tonight.” Her gaze dipped to my shoulder and the two faint scars marking where I’d been shot.

“The feeling is mutual. I almost choked to death when that bouncer called you—”

Marian snarled at me.

“—by that name I’m never going to mention again if I know what’s good for me.”

“They thought they were being gracious by allowing me to pick a stage name. I hoped someone would notice the coincidence and take a closer look because of that horrible name. I wasn’t expecting for you to show up.”

“Consider this a lesson learned. My parents were involved. Actually, I’m genuinely astonished they haven’t broken into the joint looking for me. They fully intended to hunt and kill the stealer of my alpaca.”

“You want to die, don’t you?”

Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone? I blamed my mother. It had to be my mother’s fault. She was always pulling my father’s tail. “It’s not my fault my father is a werewolf and my mother’s infected. It’s in their blood—literally. Shooting me was bad enough, but to take my alpaca, too? They couldn’t let such an insult stand.”

“Shane!”

I wondered what it said about me that I enjoyed the way she snarled my name. “I’m sorry. I had no idea it was even possible to transform someone like that. When my godfather informed me you were probably being transported as part of a sex trafficking operation, I had a hard time believing it.”

“Well, it’s true. I was sold to this club. How did you figure out to come here anyway?”