Hoofin’ It: A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count)

by RJ Blain

  “Thanks for the company,” I said, nodding to Michelle. “Give Ed a call. If he can’t teach you how to do that, no one can.”

  Michelle scowled, and I tensed, expecting to hit the floor again. Instead of indulging in one of her usual tosses, she clapped her hand to my upper arm. “I think I’ll do that. I’ve learned one very valuable lesson today.”

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t underestimate the quiet guy in the back of the class.”

  I snorted. My low rank in the police department had been the equivalent of being stuck in the back of the class with no way to advance. I chose against sighing over the confirmation Michelle had misjudged me along with everyone else and gave her shoulder a gentle bump with my fist before giving Marian my full attention. “I’m parked in the back.”

  “Conveniently, so am I. After you.”

  Marian fell in step with me and waited until we were outside the building to say, “With accuracy like that, you should’ve been bumped up to SWAT or put on a specialist team.”

  “Porter was right; I am slow and rusty, and my field of vision is a lot less than it used to be.”

  “I’m going to book you an appointment with one of the FBI qualifiers and see what you can actually do. I see you found your presents.”

  “You should’ve seen Porter’s expression when I showed him the nationwide concealed carry permit. He’s been after one for years. It seems I owe you a great deal of thanks for that.”

  “With your professional record, your filed qualification records, and the fact you’ve already been targeted once for your unintentional involvement in a dangerous case, it wasn’t hard to get the approval. I thought it would be a decent start to showing my thanks for the assist.”

  “And the Rugers?”

  “I didn’t know if you had any concealed carry guns, so I thought I’d nudge you in the right direction.”

  “I do like them. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You’ve been making some waves since we last saw each other. Was that your girlfriend?”

  “No. Former co-worker.”

  “Ah. Cop, then?”

  “Yep, and she’s pretty pissed I’m a better shot than she is.”

  “Shane, you’re a better shot than half the members of the FBI. That was some seriously nice shooting, and you’re no slacker in the footwork department. That course was set up to force you to move and take shots from all angles. That’s not easy.”

  Coming from an undercover FBI agent, the complement meant a lot. “It was nothing, really.”

  “Nothing except hard work and a lot of dedication to learning how to use a gun. That wasn’t your gun.”

  “We use the M&P22s on the force, so I’ve fired them before.”

  “Still.” When we reached my car, I wished I’d gotten something at least a decade newer and with fewer rust spots. “Ah, you’re one of those.”

  Even I recognized when something didn’t sound promising. I guessed what she meant. “The ‘my main car is a cruiser’ type?”

  “Yep. My main car is an FBI marked SUV. It’s like that one,” she said, pointing at the black vehicle parked several spots away. “However, mine’s blue.”

  “Is there someone hiding in there, or did you drive yourself here?”

  “Unlike my colleagues, I didn’t get lost. I learned from their mistakes. I wisely asked someone for very detailed directions on how to get here. I’ll be following you out of here, and if you ditch me in Lower Chicago, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

  Why did I find cranky women threatening to end my life so damned attractive? While Michelle would flatten me given half a chance, her temper made her more dangerous. When Marian delivered her ultimatums, the hint of a smile lowered her lethality rating significantly. “Where am I taking you?”

  “FBI headquarters downtown.”

  “I’ll cut you a better deal. I’ll take you to my apartment, ditch my car, and drive you there myself. Fastest way is through the alleys of Lower Chicago, and I’ll lose you in the maze for sure.” With morning rush hour over, I might even be able to get her there in an hour, assuming construction cooperated. “In exchange, tell me how you found me.”

  Marian’s smile widened, and she pulled out her phone and showed me the display. “I tapped into the tracking software on your phones. I figured the two stationary signals were the spares, so I got the address and came here.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I forgot about that.”

  “I rather like it. That said, you should uninstall it. Convenient for me means potentially convenient for others. Will I be interrupting anything important if I borrow you for a few hours?”

  Marian didn’t seem bothered by my long silence. If my luck held out, she thought I was thinking over my schedule rather than remembering her on my lap. “Nothing important, just submitting my resume. No appointments I can think of, and I’m no longer required to appear in court.”

  “I’ve been following the trial, and I did confirm with the CDC you weren’t going to be in court before flying in. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

  I hid my disappointment with a smile, recognizing professionalism when I saw it. “It’s no problem. If I lose you, I’ll pull over so you can catch up. I presume you have my number.”

  “You presume correctly. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  If I invited Marian up to my apartment, would she take it the wrong way and murder me?

  I needed to grab something from my fridge to keep me from melting into a starved puddle at her feet. While I had no problem getting on my knees and begging, I’d rather do it for something more pleasant, like a repeat of the evening in the nightclub, except in my bed. The idea of her hair on my pillow did unfair things to me.

  So did the thought of her in a pair of jeans.

  I spent the entire drive to my apartment attempting to exorcise the memory of her naked body warming mine. Despite popular belief, thinking about puppies and kittens didn’t help. Sports didn’t help, either, although I made progress analyzing my performance at the shooting range.

  Michelle’s behavior bothered me enough to distract me from Marian, but not in a good way. Before the court case, she’d been a little standoffish although friendly, but she had changed, and I wasn’t sure if it was for the better. Upsetting the status quo wouldn’t earn me any friends among the prejudiced, and the CDC was presenting me as a victim of unfair discrimination—discrimination she’d participated in.

  Learning I could shoot better than her, essentially rubbing her ignorance in her face, wouldn’t earn me any points with Michelle. At least Stripes hadn’t been there; I scared him enough without him realizing how good of a shot I was. Rumors spread fast around the station. It wouldn’t be long until everyone learned I knew my way around a gun beyond standard qualification.

  I hadn’t hidden my shooting skills on purpose, but I hadn’t boasted about them, either.

  At the end of the day, my marksmanship skill mattered jack shit, although the CDC could have used in my case if I’d bothered mentioning it. Then again, it hadn’t occurred to me to mention it. What did it matter?

  A dead end was a dead end, and maybe I’d reached my goal of being a police officer in a big city, but it had been a dead end no matter how I looked at it. A graveyard of discrimination littered my career as a cop. I parked my car in my spot, snarled a few curses, and got out. Several deep breaths later, I straightened, locked my car, and turned.

  Marian tossed her keys to me, and I caught them. “My rust bucket has a flat. I’m too lazy to fix it.”

  The random comment got a laugh out of me. “At least mine starts on most days.”

  “They’re supposed to start?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Huh. Maybe I should look into that.”

  Shaking my head, I circled the SUV and climbed in. “Some might call you crazy for willingly getting into a vehicle with me as the driver.”

  “I’m w
illing to accept the risk. You driving through this hellhole seems a lot safer than me driving through this hellhole.”

  “Bad trip getting to the range?”

  “It’s a good thing the so-called engineers who designed this city are dead, because I seriously wanted to kill them.”

  I laughed. When I’d first moved to Chicago, killing the city’s designers had crossed my mind many a time. It had taken me several years to understand the layout of the streets, the way some dipped into Lower Chicago and re-emerged several blocks later, and the incessant construction involved with making sure the whole place didn’t collapse in on itself. The city still didn’t make sense, but I could find my way around without contemplating homicide most days.

  “How do you people stand the traffic? Is driving in this city the number one cause of homicides here? I could easily believe that.”

  “Did you get detoured from construction?”

  “I did not get lost.” Marian shot me a glare, buckled her seatbelt, and wrinkled her nose.

  “Did they reroute you through Lower Chicago, up to the surface, then back a few times before dropping you two blocks from where you started?”

  She grumbled curses, which I interpreted as confirmation. I buckled up before starting the SUV’s engine. My car rumbled, but it was more due to the whole thing trying to rattle apart rather than the purr of a tuned, road-worthy vehicle. “You didn’t get lost. That puts you ahead of half of Chicago. Even locals can get turned around during unexpected construction.”

  “That’s something.”

  “Can I get a preview of the questioning?”

  “We’re investigating your imposter. They called me in since I’d witnessed your shooting and saw you in the days following your recovery. We’re both going to be questioned, but beyond that, I can only speculate.”

  “Sounds like a great time, especially since the CDC is using the circumstances surrounding my shooting to support the discrimination case.”

  “We’re aware. The CDC brought in the FBI to testify. I’ll tell you this much, someone in the CPD must have pissed off the CDC, because it’s a slaughterhouse. The defense is being thoroughly spanked. That rat’s trying, but he just can’t get anything on you. It’s actually impressive. Your record is so clean it squeaks when you rub it. We can’t even get dirt on you from elementary school. The only remotely questionable thing we have is something that happened when you were six.”

  There was only one incident I could think of when I’d been six that might catch the FBI’s notice, and it involved a kidnapping attempt. I had declined the invitation using a baseball bat. Running had seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, six year old me had had the attention span of a gnat and decided to play hide and seek with the entirety of the Lincoln police force.

  “I’m pretty sure I can’t be held responsible in a court of law for playing hide and seek at age six.”

  “I was more thinking about you shattering your would-be kidnapper’s knee with a baseball bat.”

  “Self-defense. No court would convict me.”

  “We were wondering how you managed to beat up your would-be kidnapper so effectively. On top of that, you avoided capture for a full thirty-six hours.” The amusement in her voice warned me of trouble. “The details of your capture are being analyzed, but the initial verdict is that it was the cutest bust of that year.”

  I sighed. “Why do I worry someone is going to include that in the discrimination trial?”

  “I hope not.”

  To worry or not to worry, that was the question. I went with worry. “Oh?”

  “Should the general public learn how wretchedly adorable you were as a child, you’ll be the target of many single women hoping to have equally cute babies. If my co-workers are to be believed, what’s a little lycanthropy when someone has a child that cute? You grew up to become a cop with a startlingly good record and the sort of ethics that make even lycanthrophobes think twice before criticizing you.”

  Yep, I was right to worry. What did I want with many single women? I’d be happy with one—a nice one who didn’t mind I wasn’t entirely human, had a father who hated fleas, and a mother who would one day hate fleas as much as Dad. I seemed to have no problems with single women who bit, although I hoped Marian’s bite would finish healing soon.

  “That’s disturbing.”

  “Sources inform me you’re the conservative, traditional type who would probably like being pursued by women a lot.”

  “Your sources are clueless.”

  “Your parents.”

  “Definitely clueless.” I paused. “Wait. You were talking to my parents?”

  Was that a good sign or a bad sign? Did I need to update my will or buy an engagement ring? If I ran away with an FBI agent, how long would the prison term be? Did it count as kidnapping if I asked before running off with her? Maybe I could just ask her to run off with me. That would solve a lot of problems.

  It also had the potential to cause a lot of problems. I didn’t even know if she was single.

  “They were very useful in giving us information about you. Between the FBI and the CDC, I’m fairly certain the Gibsons have no desire to be questioned ever again.”

  “You grilled them.”

  “Not me specifically, although I did enjoy listening to the recordings.”

  I sighed at the thought of my parents dishing out all my dirty secrets, which probably meant they were aware I’d had sex with an undercover FBI agent in the nightclub while under the influence of an incubus. “If I move to Alaska and hide in a cave, do you think anyone will notice?”

  “Probably.”

  Descending into Lower Chicago, I dodged the worst of the construction by detouring off the beaten path, easing the FBI’s SUV through a maze of narrow alleys, stall markets set up in abandoned, gutted lots, and residential areas most in Upper Chicago pretended didn’t exist.

  “While I’d heard Chicago had some pretty unsavory parts of town, this is even worse than I thought.”

  “We’re not even in the slums.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very. This isn’t a fun patrol, but most of the residents are nocturnals who have their own form of law enforcement. They don’t bother us, we keep our noses out of their business. There are a few laws the CPD doesn’t ignore, but a lot of them? Forget it. In good news, your nice little FBI sticker means no one in their right mind will bother us.”

  “And if I didn’t have a nice little FBI sticker?”

  I drove several more blocks, waited until we passed the first brothel, and pointed at it. “You’d probably end up there being sucked off by a vampire while an incubus had his way with you. The gentlemen get the vampire and a succubus. If they spot your badge, they’ll dump you in Upper Chicago, place an anonymous call for a pickup, and leave you alive—they’ll even give you basic first aid, but you’d need a transfusion.”

  “And without a badge?”

  “They’ll keep you for a couple of days to get you good and addicted, then they’ll dump you on the surface to be found later.”

  “I take it you haven’t been assigned to this patrol?”

  Looking at her from the corner of my eye, I decided to add a few extra minutes to our trip by taking a detour to show her the heart of the nocturnals’ hunting grounds. Newcomers found the odd combination of brick veneers, glass, and steel intriguing and comforting; by resembling a safe haven, the buildings lured in the ignorant.

  “This is a lot nicer. That’s weird.”

  “Kinda cozy, right?”

  “Sure, if you’re a mad scientist with an architecture hobby.”

  “Nice building and clean streets make victims unwary. They’re grabbed here, taken through tunnels under the street, and sent to the various brothels.”

  “You know a lot about this area, don’t you?”

  “I’m probably the only one who’s been on this patrol without spending some time serving as a vampire’s snack.”

&nb
sp; “Why? Aren’t virgins special treats to succubi? How did you prevent it from happening?”

  I shifted on the seat so I could reach the Ruger in my pocket, waited until I hit a stop sign, and pulled the gun fast enough Marian sucked in a breath. “After I kneecapped a few vampires, they stopped thinking of me as dinner.”

  “That’s not on your record.”

  “The vampires were rather embarrassed and politely begged me not to tattle on them.” I smirked. “That was with my first partner. Let’s just say he washed out.”

  “You don’t seem too upset about that.”

  “He requested patrols for this area.” I returned the Ruger to its holster and resumed my slow drive through Lower Chicago, taking the first larger street headed downtown. “After a few months of shit shifts thanks to him, I asked for a favor.”

  “A favor?”

  “Yeah, from one of the local vampires. Nice guy, if you don’t mind someone looking at your neck like you’re a tasty treat. You’d be surprised how considerate the nocturnals can be if you make it clear you’re not interested. Casey never did find out why the locals stopped grabbing him for a fun time during his patrols. I really got tired of hunting his ass down in Upper Chicago and taking him to the ER. Ultimately, I was the reason he got fired, since I may have asked that vamp friend of mine to take notes on Casey’s activities.”

  “Public endangerment?”

  “Bingo. Since I was flagged as contaminated with lycanthropy, no one really cared if he got me into trouble, but when our patrols are interrupted because he’s deliberately trying to get with a succubus, it causes problems.”

  “And you didn’t get into any shit over it?”

  “No. I had a few close calls. When the vamps decided to sink Casey, I got a concussion during his grab. If Casey had been reassigned, all that would’ve happened was the other cop would’ve been sucked into the same cycle.”

  “Not so squeaky clean as I thought, then.”

  “Nothing I did was illegal.”

  “You realize I’m going to verify that, right?”

  I chuckled. “Would you like me to provide an exact timeline of my dastardly deeds so you can verify my pristine record?”