Page 24 of Hoofin’ It

“Only after we spent a few hours waiting for them to go through the lobby.”

“This does not follow the spirit of a stake-out.”

“Good thing this isn’t a stake-out.”

My godfather glared at me. “Spoilsport.”

“Think if you knock and I hide to the side and jump out at them we’ll get a good reaction?”

“Probably.”

“You knock, I ambush.”

Chuckling, he nodded and went ahead of me down the hallway. When we reached my parents’ room, Lewis listened at the door for a few moments before gesturing for me to come forward. I took my spot beside the doorway, ready to pounce on my mother or father.

After the third knock, the door cracked open. “Lewis? What are you doing here?” Dad growled.

“I visited your child, and since he was worried, I offered to tail you and help out.”

By claiming he’d visited me, Lewis explained why my scent lingered on him.

Dad fell for it hook, line, and sinker, opening the door and taking a single step into the hallway. In his human form, he was taller than me by a few inches and had plenty of muscle to withstand my full weight slamming into him. I caught him completely by surprise, and we hit the floor hard, giving me the advantage, which I used to pin him beneath me. “Hi, Dad.”

“Shane Abraham Gibson!” my mother shrieked. “What are you doing here?”

I sat on my father’s chest cross-legged and grinned up at her. “I stole Lewis’s motorcycle. It’s pretty cool. I also conned the surgeon into letting me out of prison early. Some weirdo came to the house after I’d finished cleaning the kitchen. Apparently, I’m the bait.”

Dad snarled, hooked his arms around my waist, and tossed me over his head. I yelped, tucked, and rolled, landing on my back hard enough to drive the air out of my lungs. Since turnabout was fair play, he jumped me, braced his knee against my right shoulder, and pinned me down in an iron grip. “I left you in the hospital safe and sound this morning. This is not the hospital. This is not safe or sound. What are you doing here?”

If my father had been in his hybrid form, his looming over me with his teeth bared might’ve been enough to scare even me.

Lewis let himself into the room and closed the door behind him. “Harold called the station to report your brat had escaped. He was worried. Said Shane looked pale and tired, so while he didn’t want to impose and barge in, he didn’t want to leave him alone, either. The chief suggested I take some time off work and keep an eye on things. When I went to your house, your boy had done a top to bottom cleaning of your kitchen. I couldn’t leave him unsupervised. I even put him in a bullet-proof vest before we left. He’s already proven himself quite useful, as he charmed the nice lady working the front desk into give us your room number.”

“Lewis!” my father snarled.

I tilted my head back and waved at my mother with my left hand. “Hi, Mom. Miss me?”

Yanking my parents’ chains came with risks, and my mother planted her bare, smelly foot on my face, digging her toes into my chin. I considered myself lucky she didn’t break my nose. “I haven’t washed my feet in at least two days.”

I shuddered and tried to avoid breathing. It didn’t work very well. “I can tell. That’s almost as disgusting as your fridge. Come on. Just because I got shot doesn’t mean you have to abandon basic hygiene. For fuck’s sake, go take a shower. You’re going to announce your presence to everyone within a block if you leave here with your feet stinking worse than a skunk.”

My parents had the decency to blanch and look embarrassed, with the added bonus of my mother moving her foot to my left shoulder. “You looked in the fridge?”

“Looked implies I, like you, closed the door and ignored its contents. No, I cleaned your fridge. I deemed every pot and pan in there a biohazard and got rid of them. I also scraped two more pancakes off the ceiling. You two are grounded until you can act like the adults you’re supposed to be. Obviously, you can’t be left unattended, so I’m here to keep you from being dangers to yourselves.”

My parents exchanged long looks before Dad sighed, got off me, and hauled me to my feet. The room had a pair of double beds, and he shoved me onto the nearest one. “You do realize we’re here tracking down the man who shot you, right?”

“He’s aware. He was quite happy to come help. We come bearing gifts of new information.” My godfather took his leather jacket off and tossed it onto the other bed. “The NYPD called. There’s reason to believe Shane was a target because of Sally, who’s probably a transformed young woman in the process of being sold in a sex trafficking ring.”

My parents’ eyes widened. My mother turned a sickly gray. “Sex trafficking ring? What sex trafficking ring?”

“One involving a New York City mafia with probable connections to a ring here in Des Moines. The NYPD was able to identify Shane’s shooter from the sketch. His name’s Mark O’Conners, and he’s a second-generation Irish-American with known ties to the Italian mafia in New York.”

“And you brought my son where it’d be easier for them to get him?” My mother’s voice went up a full octave, and I grimaced.

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m armed. Oh, you can arrest me later. I stole one of your guns from your cabinet.”

“Shane Abraham Gibson! What has gotten into you?” She towered over me, planting her hands on her hips. “You did not steal one of my guns. You would never do something so irresponsible.”