Bad Blood: A VamPR Nightmare (Pisces Paranormal PR Agency Book 1)

by Bee Murray

  “Wait. Who the— That’s one of the bastards that staked me!” I stabbed my finger into the screen. “How do I make this bigger?”

  “Give it to me,” Tuesday demanded. She pulled the laptop from my hands and enlarged the photo. I pointed again.

  “Him. That’s your suck and chuck! Zach?”

  “I should definitely not have said anything about that date,” Tuesday muttered.

  “Yeah, well, maybe not. Or maybe you should have found out that he’s a fang hater!”

  “And how was I supposed to do that? Just… casually drop it into conversation? ‘Oh, how do you feel about vampire rights in today’s society?’”

  She was mocking me. That part was obvious.

  “If he’s there, that means he’s doing reconnaissance for Baldwin,” I said firmly. “They want to know that they did the job right.”

  “Oh shit,” Tuesday whispered.

  “What?”

  “If you were supposed to die in the blast, that means they’ll expect me to be dead, too. They left me there with you.”

  I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, that might be awkward if you just showed up to a meeting when you’re supposed to be mixed in with the wreckage of my house.”

  “Funny,” she said dryly, the same as she always did when she thought I wasn’t being funny in the slightest.

  That small nugget of familiarity between us was comforting. Maybe she could forgive me, after all.

  “I need to call Carlyn,” she blurted. “The press conference goes down in two hours. You need to get in the shower. You stink, and it stinks in here.”

  I shrugged. “You don’t look so great, either.”

  She looked down at her coveralls and touched her hair self-consciously. “Yeah, well… I just… I need you gone so I can work.”

  “Fine,” I said airily. I could use a shower. Especially after spending so much time in that heinous van the day before.

  “Vinnie,” Tuesday called out as I walked across the room. “There’s something else. Apogee isn’t a person.”

  I froze in place and looked back at her. “It’s not?”

  She shook her head. “It’s a company.”

  Confusion spiralled through me. “A company— But that doesn’t…”

  “It makes no sense, I know,” Tuesday said. “I’ve got my best people looking into it. We’ll have something soon. If it’s anywhere in the U.S., we’ll be able to find them.”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “They won’t have any answers… I have to talk to Baldwin.”

  “Have you forgotten something?” Tuesday demanded. “You’re dead! As far as Baldwin knows, he’s succeeded in whatever he set out to accomplish. Zach got his revenge and Baldwin got—”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know,” Tuesday sighed. “There has been no activity in your accounts except for your usual expense withdrawals. Do you really keep a Reiki instructor on salary?”

  “He helps keep me grounded,” I said with a shrug.

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I will not argue with you about my personal expenses, Tues. But I need to talk to Baldwin. I have to find out the truth. He’s not going to just admit it.”

  “And how are you going to do that without alerting the press to the fact that this was all a massive lie?” Tuesday’s voice was desperate, but I was determined. I needed answers from that little weasel. “It’s not like you can just kidnap him and interrogate him!”

  That wasn’t a bad idea.

  “Actually,” I said. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “What?” Tuesday screeched.

  Her phone rang, and I took that as my cue to leave the room. She wouldn’t ignore her phone, and I could percolate over my little idea in peace. The press conference would be starting soon, and I didn’t want to miss the show.

  20

  VINNIE

  Tuesday paced the kitchen and kicked at the peeling linoleum as she argued with her boss. She had her phone pressed tight to her ear and even though I could only hear half of the conversation, it sounded like Tuesday’s alternative plan might work…

  My knee bounced under the hastily repaired table. It was a little rickety, but serviceable. I just had to be careful not to knock into it too hard.

  The task at hand did not hold my interest. I needed to get back to the city so I could put my plan into action.

  Pisces PR kept a basic laptop at the cabin and we set it up so we could watch the press conference. I tried to be excited for Tuesday’s sake but all I wanted to do was high-tail it out of there. I didn’t actually care about a press conference. Sure, they would talk about me, so it might not be too boring, but I was a man of action!

  Cainin Records had sent out word less than twelve hours ago, but it looked as though everyone on the West Coast had gotten the memo. All of my favorite publications had sent reps, I recognized a few of the best interviewers and personalities, and some disreputable ones too. I used to hate the rag publications—not much had changed, but I’ve grown momentarily tolerant of their presence because of what Tuesday had accomplished with their unknowing assistance. They were still shady as hell, but they served their purpose.

  They trained the camera on an empty podium that was emblazoned with Cainin’s logo. Photographers and journalists jostled for position in the pit.

  Tuesday had assured me that this would be quick and painless.

  Announcement. Pause for shock and horror. No questions. Thank you very much, minions.

  That was the plan.

  Well, that was Tuesday’s plan.

  Pisces PR’s Director would be on site to make sure that nothing would go south, but I had my doubts. Press conferences could be unpredictable.

  A few of my own had gone off script a time or two and caused a bit of a stir—but that had been the point. Sorry, not sorry!

  “That’s right,” Tuesday sounded impatient. “No, do not let them answer questions. All questions should go through Pisces PR staff… that’s it. Give the script to Ricardo and make sure he doesn’t deviate. I don’t know, be scary. It usually works on industry guys. They’re all afraid to look like dumbasses in front of the camera. Once you’re a meme, that’s it. They don’t want to be memed. Trust me.”

  Ah, Ricardo, I thought. She wasn’t wrong. Ricardo Russo, Cainin’s CEO, hated looking stupid, especially in front of the press. That was why I had a ten-year contract. It was just easier and less embarrassing for them. Well, it had been. Until I’d gone and had my little… accident.

  Baldwin had negotiated that contract for me. He was vicious in the boardroom. By the time he finished, they hadn’t even batted an eyelash when I made my list of demands.

  “Okay. No, that’s perfect.” Tuesday smiled; she was winning. She loved winning. “Keep Baldwin in sight of the cameras. His reaction is everything.”

  I still wasn’t sure what we were looking for, but Tuesday seemed convinced that she was going to get some kind of damning evidence out of this press conference. I hoped she was successful, but I had my own plans to get information out of my manager.

  Play stupid games, get deadly prizes, asshole. By the time I’m done, you’ll wish I only fired you!

  “You bet, we’ll be watching.”

  Tuesday stabbed her finger into the phone screen to end the call and practically ran back to the table. Her business-face was cracking and pure, gleeful excitement showed through. She was made for this.

  “They’re starting. Carlyn is going to take care of everything. The script is all prepared.”

  “Does Ricardo know what’s going to go down?”

  Tuesday shook her head, and her eyes practically glowed in excitement. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she hopped around in anticipation. “He’ll know at the same time everyone else does. The only information we have given him is that we’re having a press conference for a very important Vinnie Quake update, and he’s speaking at it.”

 
“His priorities are correct,” I said with a wink.

  She rolled her eyes and looked back at the laptop, but I saw a hint of a smile on her face, too.

  The cocky asshole side of me was confident that it wouldn’t be long before she’d want to give that “one time only” thing a go again. Even my monster was sure of that. The chemistry we had together was explosive, volatile… and addicting.

  But the rational side of my brain. The one that frequently had to redirect my decisions away from my dick urged caution. The last time we crossed that line, a lot of other lines almost got crossed. Maybe that’s what Tuesday and I are. The ultimate in star-crossed lovers. I cursed us so now each time we get close, disaster unfolds. I scoffed to myself and kicked the edge of the couch in frustration.

  “When it’s done, you’ll take a shower, right?”

  Tuesday glared at me briefly, a single eyebrow raised in protest of my tone. Yeah, ok. I was being a jerk. But then she looked down at her grease-stained coveralls and grimaced instead. “Yes. Fine. God, you’re obsessed with my hygiene. I’ll take a shower, but for now I need you to shut it. The adults are about to speak.”

  Cameras flashed on the laptop screen and there was a low buzz of conversation in the conference room as Cainin’s executive team filed in. Ricardo led the group, and a woman I didn’t recognize followed close behind him.

  “Carlyn has everything under control,” Tuesday said. There was the slightest hint of awe in her voice, and I realized that she genuinely admired her boss. What was that like? I’d never needed a mentor… people aspired to be me, not the other way around. That was all about to change.

  Ricardo took his place at the podium and I glared at Baldwin’s image as he stood to the left and folded his hands behind his back. I hate him.

  Cainin’s CEO cleared his throat and Carlyn handed him a manilla envelope. They were really keeping this under wraps… Deep breath. Here we go!

  Tuesday impulsively reached over and squeezed my hand under the table. I could hear her heartbeat racing in her chest. She was really, really excited for them to announce my death. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that—suddenly; I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of this.

  “Uh… Tues, are you sure this is gonna work?”

  She stared at me incredulously. “It’s a little late for that, Vin.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press… welcome. I’ve called you all here today for a very important announcement regarding Cainin Records’ star recording artist, Vinnie Quake.”

  The low buzz in the room increased in volume as Ricardo opened the envelope.

  Tuesday was right, it was way too late. Even if she called her boss and pleaded with her to rip the paper out of Ricardo’s hands and shred it in front of all the cameras… it would never work. There were too many rumors, too many questions left unanswered. The gossip rags would spin whatever story they wanted and my reputation would be—well, I’d ruined it myself about a hundred times.

  Fuck it.

  Let it ride.

  I tried to relax, but I was too focused on Baldwin’s face. I knew Tuesday was looking for some kind of reaction, but I had no idea what my manager was going to do—my former manager.

  Another ex.

  I was racking up quite the body count. Literally and figuratively.

  Ricardo’s face paled as he read the words on the page, and he glanced at Carlyn with a desperation that I could feel through the cameras. Flashes went off like wildfire as Ricardo stared at the press and back at Carlyn.

  “Is it true?” he asked.

  Oh, no. Abort!

  “Talk,” Tuesday muttered. “Just... read the script.”

  On the screen, Carlyn’s tight smile was encouraging and Ricardo’s expression hardened.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I called you here today to confirm rumors and reports about Vinnie Quake. I have received word from the Seattle Police that evidence of human remains were discovered in the debris of his home after the tragic events following the violent incident with anti-vampire protestors.”

  “Where is Vinnie Quake?” someone shouted.

  I chuckled, and Tuesday glared at me.

  Ricardo shifted on his feet and looked down at the paper again. He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to believe that it was true. I’d gone rogue on more than one occasion, but it had always been something that Cainin could handle.

  This? This was different. I didn’t even know if I could handle it.

  Ricardo cleared his throat and tried to continue. “Vincent Quaker—known to all of you, and to the world, as Vinnie Quake, is believed to have perished in the blaze along with members of his household staff. Police are still working on identifying bodies and notifying next of kin.”

  The room erupted in noise and shouted questions as Ricardo kept reading. “The Seattle Police Department has confirmed nine bodies in the house. On behalf of our client, we condemn this violence.” He paused and swallowed hard.

  Was he crying? Hoo boy, I’d have some serious apologizing to do when I got back into the city.

  “In honor of our beloved client, and the innocent lives lost on that fateful night, Cainin Records will open a charity to provide advocacy and support to the families of those lost and work to build bridges within the vampire community both here in the Puget Sound area and nationwide.”

  I looked at Tuesday in surprise. “They will be?”

  She nodded. “It was the best way to give some closure to the families of your victims,” she said. “Without saying they were your victims, of course. Cainin has also offered to cover the cost of repairs on the bookstore that was ruined during the… incident.”

  “On my behalf, of course,” I said. I’d had every intention of paying for it myself, anyway. This just cut out the middleman. Which was a good thing, seeing I was officially dead now.

  “Of course.”

  We dragged our attention back to the press conference and took in the chaos.

  Ricardo looked utterly lost and his expression was tight as he folded the letter and tucked it into his suit jacket. His handlers were edging closer to the stage, shielding him from the hell that had broken loose.

  In all the hubbub, we took our eyes off Baldwin.

  This was a mistake. I scanned the tiny screen and the people milling about, but he wasn’t there.

  “Where is Baldwin?” I snapped.

  “He was right there,” Tuesday replied. “He was… What the....”

  She grabbed for her phone and punched in a number. On the laptop screen, the press conference had descended into chaos as reporters jostled for position and tried to get an exclusive interview or have any of their questions answered.

  Madness.

  The live feed froze, and I stared at the screen, scanning the crowd for anyone I recognized.

  “Tuesday,” I hissed.

  “Carlyn, what’s going on?” Tuesday said into her phone. “Where is Baldwin? Someone needs to get eyes on that weasel. If he gets away, everything goes to hell. He’s the one behind all of this. We need to know where he is!”

  “Tuesday.”

  She whirled toward me, her eyes wide and angry. “What!”

  I pointed to the screen. “He shouldn’t be there.”

  Tuesday frowned at me, and then her gaze followed my finger.

  “No way.”

  She leaned forward and held up her phone to take a photo of the screen. “What the hell are you doing there?” she whispered.

  Zach.

  That smug, murdering bastard.

  His smile was hard and cold. He looked vindicated. As though he’d dealt out some righteous justice and gotten away with it. Not today, Satan.

  Tuesday’s phone rang, and she picked it up instantly. “Do you have him? Good. Stay on him. I don’t want him to know that we suspect anything. I’ll go back through the footage to see what happened. He’s a slippery one. We can’t let him skip town.”

  She listened to the voice on the other end
of the phone, and then her eyes widened.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  I stared at the laptop as the feed came back online. The conference room was emptying, but it was a disaster. Overturned chairs littered the floor, and someone had knocked over a light in their haste to follow the CEO and executive board out of the room. Ricardo was a pro. He wouldn’t answer questions without consulting with Cainin’s army of high-powered lawyers.

  I smiled faintly. Of all the press conferences Cainin had to give to explain some of my wild behavior, this was, by far, the most intense.

  When Ricardo was finally told the truth, he would lose his freaking mind. I only hoped that I would be there to see it. He never, ever lost his cool, and if he was ever going to—that would be the moment.

  “Right. I’ll be in touch.”

  Tuesday set her phone down on the table and took a breath.

  “What?” I asked.

  “We’re going back to the city.”

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it.”

  She sighed. “I’m not. But if we’re going to get this straightened out, we need to be there.”

  Her phone rang again, and Tuesday answered it. I could hear the woman on the other end of the line shouting before Tuesday even lifted the phone to her ear. She winced as the shouting continued.

  “Adrienne… hey.” She got up from the table and walked over to the kitchen. “No. Obviously. You’re talking to me right now, aren’t you? I’m not dead. Seriously. Stop.”

  More yelling.

  “Promise me you won’t say anything, Renny. Promise me!”

  Subdued yelling.

  “Good. This will all be over soon. I will need a LOT of mimosas to get this out of my system.”

  I chuckled just a little. Overprotective friends could be the best and worst accessories. Here, I hoped Adrienne could keep her mouth shut.

  Tuesday came back to the table and sighed heavily as she sat down beside me again. She leaned against my shoulder briefly as she reached out to rewind the video.

  I grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Looks like we’re in the deep end now,” I said.