Page 85 of Hoofin’ It

Marian bit her lip.

“Oh, dear.” My mother leaned out the doorway of my apartment. “Sir? It’s okay. He doesn’t bite, nor does he have rabies. I assure you he’s mostly housebroken, too.”

To Michelle and Stripes, Mom sounded reasonable, but I knew better. Mockery came in many forms, and I admired her subtle jabs at the cop’s cowardice. The instant my parents got home, she’d be telling the tale of the flighty CPD officer who took one look at Dad and ran away like a coward.

“I didn’t kill anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering. You can verify my whereabouts with the FBI, since they were interrogating me last night.”

Marian kicked me under the table.

“Questioning,” I corrected. “Questioning me about the incident in Des Moines.”

“Okay. That’s not why I’m here. The captain wanted to to check the legality of your new permit, so he asked us to swing by and get your permit number.”

Maybe I hadn’t known Marian long, but I recognized the instant her good humor faded to something more intense and less friendly. “Do you have the search and seizure warrant for the permit number?”

Michelle’s eyes widened. “It’s in regards to his past employment.”

“Irrelevant. He was no longer employed by the CPD when the permit was processed, verified, and issued.”

“Excuse me?” Michelle straightened.

With a flick of her wrist, Marian pulled out her FBI badge and displayed it. “FBI. If your captain wants the permit number, he needs a search and seizure warrant for it, along with a valid, official accusation justifying the warrant, signed by a judge. Mr. Gibson has been fully vetted, his performance and visual acuity has been verified post-surgical procedure by an authorized firearms instructor, and his permit legalized in all fifty states. If your captain wants the permit number, he needs to either have a search and seizure warrant issued or a legal request passed through the FBI.”

“He hadn’t touched a gun until yesterday, and we both know it,” Michelle snapped.

“I’m an authorized firearms instructor and watched the complete demonstration. Instructors may opt for untraditional qualifications, and the course Mr. Gibson completed exceeds the basic minimum requirements for the permit. I could also request the surveillance videos from the range.”

Mom was right. I needed to marry Marian in a hurry. Between getting me a nationwide concealed carry permit, buying me a pair of guns, and probably being a better shot than me, if other men figured out how amazing she was, I’d have no hope at all. Add in her determination and ability to go toe to toe with Michelle, and I doubted I’d ever find someone like her again.

I kept my mouth shut, had another sip of my coffee, and watched the fireworks between the two women.

Michelle’s cheek twitched. “I see.”

Wiggling in her seat, Marian pulled a wallet from her pocket, retrieved a card, and offered it to Michelle. “If your captain would like to follow protocol regarding Mr. Gibson’s permit, you can contact the FBI’s firearm and permit registrar at this number. They’ll be able to give you the appropriate forms. Also, as the CPD is involved in a court case against Mr. Gibson, the judge in charge of the trial will also have to sign an approval for any warrants, as such action could be viewed as obstruction of the trial. Someone at the registrar’s office will be able to assist your captain with the legalities.”

While Michelle took the card, she looked like she’d swallowed something sour. “I’ll make sure he’s aware of this. Thank you, Agent.”

“You’re welcome.” Marian smiled, but I was aware of the tension in her body and her less-than-pleased tone.

Without another word, Michelle nodded, spun on a heel, and stormed out of my apartment, closing the door behind her with so much care I almost pitied the explosion Stripes would endure soon enough. “Well, that was fun.”

Marian picked up her cell and dialed a number. “It now becomes a great deal more fun for me and a great deal less fun for them.” Putting the phone to her ear, she waited for several moments before saying, “Agent Peterson. Transfer me to the person in charge of police investigations. I need to report an incident involving the Chicago Police Department regarding Mr. Shane Gibson’s nationwide concealed carry permit. It may be relevant to an insurance fraud case currently being handled in Chicago.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Since when had my home become a general assembly? I could understand Michelle and her partner showing up; the CPD would be actively looking for ways to sink me, but had the captain really believed sending four different pairs of officers with the same request would do any good?

Marian looked ready to blow a gasket while Mom and Dad were enjoying the fireworks.

The sixth time someone knocked at the door, Marian answered it, her hand on her holster. She cracked open the door, sucked in a breath, pulled out her gun, and fired so fast I reached for mine, which was locked up where it did me no good. A moment later, she opened the door, grabbed her victim by his hair, and dragged him into my apartment.

Ernesto giggled. “She loves me almost as much as you do, dear boy.”

I hated vampires old enough to survive exposure to sunlight, capable of visiting my apartment during daylight hours. “We’ve had five pairs of CPD officers trying to get their mitts on my concealed carry permit. Know anything about that?”

“Trying to bust you on a fake permit. They’re idiots. Did you enjoy your evening?”

I hated trick questions almost as much as I hated old vampires. “I drank hot water instead of coffee this morning, Ernesto.”