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

by Bee Murray

  She nodded and pulled her fingers out of my grasp so that she could start the playback. “Hope you remembered your water wings,” she said briskly.

  Ricardo’s voice interrupted my next thought as the video began again.

  “Watch Baldwin,” Tuesday said.

  Ricardo was the focus of the camera’s attention, but Baldwin was visible in the background just to Ricardo’s left.

  “Vincent Quaker—known to all of you, and to the world, as Vinnie Quake, perished in the blaze,” Ricardo said again.

  The words rippled down my spine. I couldn’t even imagine what was going on as they broadcast the news around the world. Vinnie Quake. International bad boy and charismatic performer—gone. The victim of anti-vampire violence. I would be a martyr for the vampire cause.

  I wasn’t ready to be any kind of martyr. All I’d wanted was to keep performing, keep my little secret hidden, and preferably stay out of jail.

  Now I wasn’t sure what was on the horizon.

  “There, did you see it?”

  Damn. I’d drifted again.

  “What?”

  Tuesday pointed at the screen. “Baldwin. Did you see his face when Ricardo read that line?”

  I shrugged, and she let out a frustrated noise. “Will you just watch it this time?”

  She started the video again, and I hit the mute button. I didn’t want to hear him say it again. Tuesday looked at me strangely, but I didn’t acknowledge it. I was focused on Baldwin’s pale face.

  His expression stayed the same throughout the video, and I wondered if Tuesday had just imagined it. But then Baldwin’s eyes darted toward the crowd. Just for a moment, and then his focus shifted back to Ricardo at the podium.

  “Did you see it?”

  I nodded grimly.

  “Do you think he was looking for someone?”

  “Zach,” I said. “He was looking for Zach.”

  A reporter stood up and blocked the camera to shout a question, and when he moved away, Baldwin was gone.

  “But where did he go?” Tuesday muttered. “And why didn’t anyone stop him?”

  “Baldwin has his own security team,” I said. “They’re not affiliated with Cainin. It was part of his contract.” I hadn’t thought about it much—but it didn’t concern me, so why would I?

  “So they would get him out without a fuss,” Tuesday mused. She unlocked her phone and texted quickly before attaching the photo she’d taken of Zach. “I’m going to have Carlyn put out a call to find Zach. He was at that press conference for a reason, and we need to get ahead of it.”

  “You promised me you’d take a shower,” I said. If I didn’t stop her soon, she would keep going until she exploded, and I needed her to get me into the city. Now that I was officially dead, I couldn’t risk being seen.

  Tuesday’s face had been on the news. But people could forget her… they hadn’t forgotten me. Especially not when hundreds of news articles were hitting social media by the hour all speculating on the circumstances surrounding my untimely and tragic demise. Speculation was rampant and conspiracy theories were in full swing.

  I could definitely write a song about this. Something obvious and phoenix related for sure… It could be my redemption saga. Every pop star needs one.

  They’d eat it up.

  She glared at me but didn’t argue.

  “Fine. Then it’s your turn. Carlyn wants us back in the city before midnight, so we have to get on the road sooner than later.”

  “You might even have time for a nap.”

  “Don’t push your luck,” Tuesday growled. “If I even think about sleeping, I won’t wake up for a thousand years. Shower, get dressed, on the road. Deal?”

  I smiled, showing my fangs, and she drew back slightly.

  “Deal.”

  21

  TUESDAY

  Horns honked all around us and rain beat a staccato tempo onto the roof of the van as we navigated the rush hour traffic back into the city.

  Maybe it just always felt like rush hour.

  You would think, in a city where it rains over 150 days out of the year, people who had lived in the city all their lives could drive in it.

  Spoiler alert: They totally fucking can’t.

  Between the log trucks barrelling down the road with no thought for the other cars around them, and douchebags in zippy little sports cars that wove in and out of traffic, my anxiety level was reaching ‘spring in Chernobyl’-esque levels.

  This entire case had been one disaster after the other.

  Murder. Hidden Plots. The reemergence of the fang-faced homewrecker, that crimson bitch.

  The toll of the last few days weighed heavily on me. What’s the level of tired after exhaustion? I’m about 25 steps beyond that.

  I slammed on the brakes to avoid a merging cement truck and hit the horn as hard as I could.

  A wall of water cascaded off the truck and hit our windshield hard. I gripped the wheel tight to avoid hydroplaning or sliding off the road. This week could go straight to hell. I cursed under my breath and heard a chuckle from the pile of blankets behind me.

  Vinnie. Captain Disaster.

  He has his plan.

  It’s really cute that he thinks I’m going to let him do it. He thinks he can play with the big kids… Ruining lives and spinning stories.

  He’s been pretty tight-lipped but the whole thing seems to hinge on finding Baldwin and torturing him to get information, and a reason for his betrayal.

  So original.

  Considering this masterpiece of a plan, and Vinnie’s determination to be a dumbass about getting his own way, I declined to tell him that Carlyn had already worked with the Seattle PD to set out an APB for Zach so he could be arrested in connection with the explosion. The screenshot I’d taken from the press conference feed should match up with CCTV footage from Vinnie’s security cameras.

  If everything goes according to my plan, Zach is going to shoulder the blame for everything from the attack on the bookstore to Vinnie’s (second) death and the murder of the other eight people in the house.

  Vinnie’s desire to do something different was understandable. He had always compulsively needed to control the surrounding environment, that much had been clear from our first ‘date.’ It didn’t surprise me one bit that he wanted to seek his own brand of justice. He’d always complained that the police took too long to do anything.

  Vinnie was a rebel. Albeit, usually a lazy one. I was surprised he was taking such a personal interest in this quest for vengeance. Getting his hands dirty was not his strong suit.

  If he hadn’t been who he was, they may have pushed some things under a rug or explained away with some other reasoning—choked in red tape and bureaucracy—I just needed to keep everything legit. Pisces PR’s name and fingerprints were all over the place, and if there was anything out of place, the magnifying glass would come down on us. I had no intention of being burned alive like an ant.

  But this desire to go vigilante wasn’t unfamiliar territory. One in ten clients wanted to take matters into their own hands and tell us how to do our jobs—or demanded their money back because they didn’t think we were using all of our options.

  What they didn’t understand was that we had our own asses to cover getting them what they needed to get the job done.

  I could tell Vinnie he wouldn’t be successful.

  I could even tell him that he might ruin everything we had just spent agonizing days putting into place.

  But it wouldn’t matter.

  He wouldn’t believe me until he figured it out for himself. I just wasn’t sure if all of my plans would survive his brief journey of self-discovery.

  The only thing on my list at the moment was to get us back to the Pisces PR headquarters and into the protective orbit of my team.

  My fingers tightened on the wheel as another car changed lanes in front of me without indicating properly, sending a sheet of water spilling over the guardrail and into oncoming traffic. Hor
ns blared, and a headache pounded behind my eyes.

  Getting back into the city in one piece would be key.

  Judging from the way people were driving, that would be an accomplishment all on its own.

  I blinked hard and focused on the road. The sun was setting over the water, and it painted the buildings along the side of the interstate red and gold. I couldn’t imagine never looking at the sun again… I’d never asked Vinnie what that had been like.

  Later. Maybe.

  “Tell me the plan one more time, Vinnie. I need to know you understand what we’re trying to do. And I need you to promise me you will not deviate from the script.”

  I looked into the rear-view mirror and saw movement under the sun-proof blankets before his dark head appeared. He met my accusing stare and made a big show of rolling his eyes like a petulant teenager.

  He ticked off each item on his finger as he recited the steps of the plan.

  “We arrive at Pisces HQ and you get out to go play catch-up with your boss. I get a new babysitter named Frankie. Frankie cuffs me to the passenger seat and makes sure I get to a safehouse. You go to a meeting. Someone brings me blood. I wait. You do your fancy-pants PR thing. This ends.”

  My eyes narrowed at him. “Frankie is a good person. Don’t try anything with him, dickhead. You hear me?”

  Vinnie flipped me a single-finger salute, and I chuckled despite myself.

  Frankie and Vinnie.

  In another life, they would probably be the best of friends. We’d be lucky if they both survived the night unscathed. I noticed that Vinnie had made no promises about sticking to the rules, and I sighed heavily. It was a good thing I knew Frankie could hold his own and didn’t take crap from anyone, not even world leaders. He was the perfect choice for this assignment.

  With one hand on the wheel, I fished around in my bag for my cell phone and scrolled down to Olivia’s number. The head of Pisces PR’s security department consulted on every case, and she was rabid for this one. I was pretty sure she was a member of the Quake Squad, but she’d never admit to being a fangirl.

  I balanced the phone on my knee, popped the Bluetooth headset into my ear, and hit the call button.

  Olivia’s no-nonsense voice answered on the second ring.

  “Pisces PR, Security Team. Olivia speaking.”

  “Olivia, Tuesday. Listen, I’m en route to HQ with a Level 10 and there’s the potential for a repeat of the Cabo incident. Be advised and prepare accordingly.”

  Olivia sucked in her breath. “Are you sure?”

  “Dead serious.”

  There was an infinitesimal moment of silence on the other end of the line.

  I hated invoking Cabo, but sometimes it needed to be done.

  “I’ll order a second unit to stand by and alert our agents,” Olivia said. I could hear people talking behind her, Cabo always got people’s attention.

  Satisfied that I had at least one surprise in store for Vinnie’s absurd foray into sneakiness, I ended the call and pulled my attention back to the road.

  “Cabo incident?” Vinnie asked from the back seat. “Care to share with the rest of the class? Planning to get an unfortunate tattoo and make questionable life choices like a spring breaker? I’m down. Just say the word, cupcake.”

  I smiled sweetly but didn’t answer him.

  The steady stream of traffic into the business district had lessened somewhat, and we were finally making progress.

  Business face. Check.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  The shiny, black glass of the Pisces PR building reflected the sunset and the city lights as I pulled the beat-up van into the small turnaround driveway. A few pedestrians hurried along the sidewalk, huddled against the rain, but otherwise the area was dark and empty. Just what I had requested.

  A lone figure in a navy blue jacket jogged out from the entrance to the parking garage, and I waved when I recognized Frankie.

  “Hey, Tuesday!” He smiled at me and lifted a hand in greeting to Vinnie, who crawled awkwardly over the console to take the passenger seat. Frankie laid his hand on the driver’s side door and peered inside. “What’s the story with this van?” His nose wrinkled as he got a whiff of the van’s interior. “No offense, but it smells like ass.”

  “Thank you,” Vinnie said in an exasperated tone. “Now you understand what I’ve been dealing with.” He glared at me briefly before turning his focus to the examination of his nail beds. “She traded out my fully loaded Escalade for… this. I still haven’t forgiven her for it.”

  Frankie raised an eyebrow at me, but made no comment.

  Smart man.

  “Decisions were made,” I said briskly. I turned to Vinnie. “You don’t get to sit up front. Remember? You’re dead.”

  Vinnie growled something I couldn’t hear and slunk back to his blanket pile without argument. I turned back to Frankie, but I suspected Vinnie’s motives. He hated being told what to do, especially by me. But there was nothing I could do about that right now. Time was running out, and I had shit to do.

  I tossed the van’s obnoxiously large keyring at Frankie and opened the door to slide out. “Here are the keys. He stays in the back. The sliding door doesn’t open from the inside and the back is locked. Don’t take your eyes off him, he’s an escape risk and I don’t trust him.”

  “Hey!” Vinnie protested from the backseat. “I heard that!”

  Frankie caught the keys easily and stifled a laugh. I stepped close and laid a hand on his shoulder as I leaned forward so my lips were next to his ear. “Seriously. Watch him. The world thinks he’s dead, but he’s plotting something.”

  Frankie beamed as I stepped away and got into the driver’s side. He handed me my battered bag and gave me a thumbs up.

  “You’re the boss, Tuesday,” he said.

  “Good. Get on the road. I’ll check in with you in an hour.”

  Frankie nodded, and the van roared to life behind me as I shoved the Bluetooth headset back in my ear, and strode away from the van as quickly as possible.

  At the top of the escalator, I chanced a glance over my shoulder. I’d heard the tires as they squealed over the asphalt, but I needed to see that they were gone.

  The feeling of unease that had hovered around me all day intensified.

  This was going to be… interesting.

  I’d half expected Vinnie to pull some murderous vamp maneuver and leave Frankie lying in a pool of blood. Frankie knew what he was in for. I couldn’t let him go into the night without knowing what Vinnie was. It hadn’t bothered Frankie—just another assignment.

  On some level, I was morbidly curious who would find Baldwin and Zach first. If the police or the feds got them, they might serve justice. If Vinnie somehow got his way… I’d probably have another mess to clean up.

  Definitely.

  A figure appeared out of the darkness and handed me a plastic bag full of dry cleaning.

  Anna was always here, I was starting to wonder if she lived in the building.

  “You’re late,” she said briskly as we walked down the corridor. “And you look like a drowned cat. Change. Immediately.”

  She looked down at my poorly wrapped wrist and sighed before pulling out her walkie.

  “I need a medic upstairs. Now.”

  Always a charmer. Maybe that’s why Carlyn had chosen her for an assistant. No one messed with Anna. She’d cut you. Happily.

  “Thanks,” I said as I took hold of the hanger.

  “The meeting will begin in four minutes. Carlyn is in her conference room waiting for you and a medic is on their way up to attend to your injuries. Do not keep her waiting.”

  “Do I ever?”

  Anna’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose slightly.

  Fair.

  I laid my hand on my office door. I could change out of these clothes lightning fast. Carlyn wouldn’t even notice if I was a few seconds late.

  “We just got the call. Zach Edmunds wa
s spotted trying to board a ferry to Canada. He has been detained.”

  I swept my rain-soaked hair out of my face and pushed open my office door. “Tell Carlyn I’m on my way.”

  One slimeball down, one more to go!

  But right now, I had to help the CEO of Cainin Records plan a funeral, and break the news to him that their deceased star was actually a vampire. This little side step was Carlyn’s idea, and I could only hope that Ricardo would be on board with our plans.

  First things first.

  Get the hell out of these clothes and into something more uncomfortable.

  Business face.

  With Zach in custody, we only had one more jerk to catch, and a rockstar’s funeral to plan.

  22

  VINNIE

  I didn’t know where this Frankie character was taking me, and I didn’t care. The fact that Tuesday had handed me over without even saying goodbye stung more than I thought it would. More than I wanted it to.

  She’d just… abandoned me with this guy and peaced the hell out without so much as a backward glance to make sure I was going to be a good little vamp and not eat her co-worker the minute the driver’s side door closed.

  “So, you’re deep in it, eh?,” Frankie said conversationally as the van pulled away from the Pisces PR building and onto the narrow street.

  “Save it,” I snapped.

  I was sitting on a pile of blankets in a van with no back seat surrounded by fast food wrappers and other dubious mess while being shuffled around like a piece of furniture from a thrift store.

  Not in the mood.

  My mission had a single name and a single aim: Find Baldwin. Take him to the cabin. Make him talk.

  I wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Tuesday had left me with this guy without employing some sort of backup surveillance. She made it really clear that she doesn’t trust me as far as she could throw me, and that’s probably smart.

  I remembered the phrase she used during her impromptu phone call in the car and debated on asking Frankie. We’d started off on the wrong foot, but curiosity killed the cat… and I was already dead.