Page 107 of Hoofin’ It

The last sound I wanted to hear was Ernesto’s rumbling chuckles directly behind me. “If you want your patients to be in danger, you’re going about it the right way. Dear daughter, do put the nice man down. It wouldn’t do to crush his windpipe. The doctors here would be oh so inconvenienced should something tragic happen. It would sting their pride if they had to send one of their employees to a different hospital.”

Ouch.

“Papa,” Pierina complained, although she eased her hold on the guard. “But I was just starting to have fun with him.”

“It’s rude to play with your dinner. If you’re going to have a drink, drag him off and have a drink, but don’t do it in the hallway. I taught you better than that. If you need bail money, call me. I’d also like to point out I received a call that not one, but two of my beloved children were in the hospital after someone bombed my daughter’s restaurant, where my dear boy and his lovely lady were dining. Do you know what that might be about, Pierina?”

If the guards could have paled any further, they would have.

“Papa!”

“Pierina,” her father replied in a perfect mockery of her complaint. “Put the human down. Wouldn’t it be much faster if you let them show us to Miss Peterson’s room? Then you can tell me why I received such a phone call.”

I enjoyed knowing I wasn’t the only one stuck with a parent able to go from reasonable to bat-shit crazy and scary in less than ten seconds flat.

After shooting a glare at her father, Pierina turned to the guard. “Miss Peterson’s room. Take us there.”

“Politely,” Ernesto chided.

“Please.”

The ancient vampire sighed as though his daughter tested every last iota of his patience. “Please forgive my daughter. If you wouldn’t mind, sirs, could you please show us to Miss Peterson’s room?”

“Suck up,” Pierina muttered.

Ernesto grabbed his daughter in a head lock and tucked her close to his side. “Now would be nice.”

The security guard rubbed his throat and exchanged a long look with his partner, who gulped and gestured down the hall. “This way, sir.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Dad took me from Mom, and before anyone thought to stop him, he chucked me through the doorway into Marian’s room. I squealed, hit the bed, and bounced off, smacking into the floor and sprawling in a stunned heap.

Aiming me towards the head of the bed rather than the foot would have increased the probability of an intervention. Then again, I probably deserved to be tenderized a little, but did Dad have to make it hurt so much? Groaning, I struggled to remember which end was up.

“Is there a reason you threw our son across the room?” Mom asked, her tone deceptively calm.

I would miss Dad if Mom decided to murder him over my short flight across Marian’s hospital room.

“That won’t kill him.”

I’d remember those words when I planned my revenge for being tossed around like a toy. Getting up was too much work, so I stretched out, sighed, and indulged in feeling sorry for myself.

“I believe Mr. Gibson meant for you to catch him, Miss Peterson,” Ernesto said. “I believe his judgment regarding your current ability to intercept flying otters is impaired.”

The bed squeaked, and Marian giggled. “Flying otter.”

A man cleared his throat, and I recognized Dr. Yasolovic’s voice. “Please forgive Miss Peterson. She was recently given painkillers so one of my colleagues can properly fuse the bones in her wrist. The CDC doesn’t want her to suffer any impairment. This hospital has an unfortunate reputation concerning the care of humans with talents others perceive as inconvenient or unwanted.”

No kidding.

“Tiny flying otter,” the FBI agent contributed, still giggling.

Hands—human hands—grabbed me around my middle and lifted me up. I blinked at Dr. Yasolovic. He made a thoughtful noise and set me on the bed at Marian’s feet, poking and prodding at me. “Perhaps throwing the otter was not the wisest of choices, Mister…?”

“Gibson,” Ernesto answered. “The otter’s father. The red werewolf is his mother, and it’s her first shift.”

“I trust you’ll keep your mate contained, Mr. Gibson. Should you need sedatives to keep her calm, I can prescribe them. I’ll have to call in someone else to handle Shane’s examination. I wouldn’t know what a healthy otter looked like if you slapped me in the face with one.”