Page 26 of Hoofin’ It

“I’m a grown man. I can take as long as I want in a bath, damn it!”

“You’re a grown man in my hotel room using my tub. Stop whining.”

My godfather laughed. “Give him a break, Justin. The kiddo’s had a rough couple of days. He’s probably sore and tired. I wouldn’t want to get out of the tub, either.”

If I didn’t get out, Dad would break the door to get in, which was enough to get me moving. Groaning, I turned the jets off, taking a few minutes to check my shoulder while I dried off. Although I still ached, only faint bruising and two pale scars betrayed where I’d been shot. Instead of dressing, I threw on Dad’s bathrobe, giving my dirty laundry a kick.

Next time I’d remember to bring my clean clothes into the bathroom with me.

When I emerged, Dad scowled at me. “That’s my robe.”

“I didn’t take my clean clothes into the bathroom.” I pointed at my new duffle, which was near the door. “I’ll change later.”

“But that’s my robe.”

“I’m just grateful you did your laundry before coming here. What’s the plan?”

My parents and godfather stared at each other, and I waited it out, sitting on the edge of the bed. After a few minutes, I wondered if they’d ever get around to letting me in on their scheming.

I worried they’d decided the worst plan was the one most likely to succeed. “I’m beginning to think you want to sell me into slavery.”

Dad sighed. “That might be the easiest way to track them down, find out how they turned a woman into an alpaca—if they did turn a woman into an alpaca. Lewis seems to think it’s possible. Your mother and I have been informed you’re actually a handsome enough man, and that little scar of yours gives you a certain bad boy flair, which might be appealing to certain women looking for a male escort for an evening.”

“And I’ve heard rumors he’s rather delicious in a uniform,” my godfather announced.

“And the bullshit levels in this room have risen to absurd levels. There are no such rumors about me. Can you three take this seriously?”

“We are.” Dad sat beside me, wrapped his arms around me, and squeezed hard enough I squeaked. “At first, I wouldn’t even consider selling you into slavery, but then Lewis suggested I might be able to get a good rate for you since you’re my son and possess werewolf genes. Since you seem to favor the werewolf way of picking a wife, you’ll probably be a beast in bed, just like me.”

“Please let’s never discuss this ever again. I did not need to know that.”

“He can’t help that it’s the truth,” Mom replied.

I groaned and struggled to escape my father’s hold. “You’re not selling me into slavery.”

“It might not be an option. If something goes wrong, you might end up a victim just like Sally.”

“Shooting me and leaving me to die on the side of the road leads me to believe they don’t want to make me a sex slave. Make a contingency plan in case something like that happens, but why don’t we focus our attention on rescuing Sally and breaking up the ring?” I squirmed out of my father’s arms, and to prevent him from bothering me further, I fetched my new clothes and headed for the bathroom. “Let me get changed into real clothes so Dad will stop whining I’m wearing his robe.”

“You should pose for us so see if you’re physique is appropriate for the sex trade.” My godfather flashed a grin at me.

I smacked him with my duffle as hard as I could on the way by. “No.”

“But we’re curious.”

“No.”

Dad looked me over from head to toe. “Come on, Shane. It’s relevant and important. You are my son. You’d probably make a good sex slave with appropriate training.”

My mother grinned. “I bet a virgin is worth more, too. If they’re running a sex trade operation, they have to have an incubus or succubus on board. One look at you, and you’d be a top sell. Between your resistance to the lycanthropy virus and your exceptional heritage, you’d bring in a pretty penny. Add in that scar, and you might even classify as exotic.”

“This is punishment for having gotten shot, isn’t it?”

Ruffling my hair, Dad gave me a shove towards the bathroom. “We’ve only begun, boy.”

It turned out the trio of troublemakers had a plan, and true to Lewis’s initial proposal, I was to serve as the bait to lure out O’Conners and any potential friends. Thanks to Dad’s sensitive nose, we even had a rough idea of where he’d taken Sally.

Like many cities in Nebraska, farmland skirted Des Moines. Dad got a rental car and drove us to a cattle ranch twenty minutes beyond the city limits. “This is the place. They breed cattle for slaughter, and the owner is also a heavy investor in several nightclubs in the city. The nightclubs are probably the front for the sex trafficking ring. For your cover, you’re looking for a girlfriend—someone you can trust to be loyal.”