Page 77 of Hoofin’ It

“But you could threaten their position.”

“That’s part of what amuses them. Casey had ambition, but he didn’t have the wits to do anything about it.”

“And your other partner?”

“Had the brains but not the ambition.”

“And you?”

“I recognize when removing certain individuals would leave a vacuum someone far worse might fill. That’s the name of the game. What kind of enemy do you want to fight? One with rules, or the unknown quantity who might turn my home into a place like Des Moines, buying and selling people for profit and sex?”

“If Ernesto doesn’t deal in human trafficking and sex slaves, what does he deal in?”

“Death. What else? He’s a vampire after all. Then you need to think about the kind of people he kills—and who pays him to do it. Don’t get me wrong. The vamp runs a brothel as a front for feeding his vampire children. He lures people in with his demons and takes them off the streets, sometimes midday with witnesses around.”

“Which is a disgusting practice.”

“Ah, but is it? According to Chicago law, insurers must pay for all care associated with the kidnapping, even if it results in someone being treated for cancer, organ failure, or another severe disease. Vamps know when they’re drinking from a healthy human, so when they take someone sick off the street and dump them on the surface after a bite…”

“You’re serious.”

“Deathly serious. He’s no knight in shining armor, but I’d rather share my bed with a devil with questionable morals than one with no morals at all.”

The FBI took twice as long to get half as much information, a practice I found annoying but tolerable. Marian kept quiet, allowing me to do most of the talking, although I could hear the anger in her voice whenever she needed to speak. We learned nothing new, which didn’t surprise me.

The human-dominated FBI could never match vampires with thousands of years of experience. While the FBI investigators wanted all the pieces of the puzzle, Ernesto and Pierce hunted specifics, the details they could use to begin their hunt. I couldn’t guess who would crack the ring first, but if I were to place bets, I’d be siding with the vampires.

Discord between members of the FBI wouldn’t help. They treated Marian as though she wasn’t one of them, something I’d experienced often enough in the CPD. She handled their behavior with the cool calm of someone who’d been subjected to questioning before, limiting her displays of temper to a frigid tone and occasional scowl.

After the first few hours watching the FBI agents spar, I decided to place my trust with the vampires. Violating a vampire’s territory stirred their ire and spurred them into action, and once they decided to take matters into their own hands, they wouldn’t quit. The FBI spread itself too thin through no fault of its own. Vampires spent decades—or centuries—building their alliances, gathering favors, and honing their skills.

In their eyes, humans could never compare. I was beginning to wonder if the vampires had it right.

We escaped at midnight; the pair of agents questioning us decided it was time to go home, and my stomach growled complaints about being mistreated. We delayed leaving the building long enough to retrieve my Rugers. The FBI reclaimed their vehicle, so I had to call a cab. Marian’s expression soured, and I suspected the agency had neglected to provide accommodations for her.

“I can’t promise haut cuisine, but I can make us something at my apartment plus there’s enough space for two. You look ready to kill anyone who comes between you and a place to crash.”

“And shower.”

“You could even soak if you want. It’s not the greatest tub on Earth, but it works.”

“Sold.”

The cab took twenty minutes to show up, and I regarded the driver, one of Ernesto’s vampire children, with a resigned sigh. Complaining about capturing too much of Ernesto’s attention wouldn’t do any good, so I held the door open for Marian and slid into the back beside her. “Hey, Larry. Small world.”

“Papa said your broad was a pretty picture, so I wanted to see for myself. It seems he was right. Where’d an ugly mug like you get a lovely thing like her? Once you get tired of him, lady, you should pay me a visit.”

“Can I kneecap this one?” Marian grumbled.

I was pleased I didn’t have to tell her our cabbie was a vamp. “No. Larry’s one of Ernesto’s younger children. It’s considered rude to kneecap one of his younger children without also kneecapping him at the same time.”

“But we had our way with him earlier. Doesn’t that count?”

I was amused Marian shared a few similarities with my mother; both women leaned towards acts of violence when stressed, although Mom targeted Dad, who could handle her at her worst. While I’d gotten lucky when I’d been shot, compared to him, I classified as fragile. “Afraid not.”

“Papa wanted me to tell you he’s had dinner brought to your apartment. He suspected you wouldn’t have had time, and our sources tell us those idiot feds gave you nothing but coffee.”

Marian sucked in a breath. Larry’s words redefined the battlefield, and the real target of his ploy sat beside me. Only a fool would think Ernesto didn’t have people on the inside. Information won wars in the crime world, and the best information came directly from the source.