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

by Bee Murray

  I sniffled and pulled my battered cell phone out of my pocket and re-read the text from my mysterious contact for the hundredth time.

  We found her.

  Three paltry words that held so much power. I’d have to beg Carlyn for a Vegas-based assignment. Or maybe I should just be honest and tell her that I was in desperate need of a break before I could get my head back in the game. I hadn’t taken a real vacation in years. I was overdue.

  Besides, there was always a starlet or two in need of help undoing a hasty impromptu marriage, or a high-stakes gambler on the brink of a scandal. Vegas always came through in a pinch.

  I’d take a few days off, then knock out a couple straightforward cases, get back in the groove, so to speak.

  It would thrill Carlyn.

  She’d been talking about opening a satellite office in Vegas for years.

  * * *

  I may not be on this case anymore officially, but I’d made a promise to myself that I would see it through. Not just for Vinnie, but for me, too. For all that we’d been through, I couldn’t bear the thought of Vinnie finding his next sunrise at the bottom of a tequila bottle.

  I had a plan. A new one. A good one.

  I brushed the tears off my face and punched my autodial.

  As soon as the line picked up I started talking. There was no room for arguments or negotiations.

  “Pack your bags, Renny,” I said with a smile. “We’re going to Vegas.”

  EPILOGUE

  BALDWIN

  Day or night, there are always people in Las Vegas. Everywhere. The airport bustles with people coming and going at all hours.

  Tourists with brightly colored t-shirts and sunscreen-slathered faces, and the convention goers with their lanyards and laptop bags are arriving for a fresh week of revelry.

  Gamblers, families, and the hungover convention crowd from the previous week are headed out. It’s a great transfer of people and moods. Exuberant enthusiasm meets with exhaustion and defeat—all in one airport.

  Normally, I would enjoy watching the ebb and flow. There were little tables set up next to the concourse slot machines that would be perfect to sit at and just watch.

  Perhaps in another life.

  My heart pounded in my chest and anxiety buzzed along my skin. Escaping Seattle was supposed to be simple but it turned out to be an almost catastrophic failure.

  Vinnie was alive.

  Vinnie and that stupid, meddling, heartless bitch that they forced me to hire.

  I should be grateful that I was even here but I’m too keyed up to be grateful.

  The burner phone I’d bought at a kiosk in the SeaTac airport was burning a hole in my pocket and I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder, constantly scanning the breezeway for threats.

  I’d followed my orders. This wasn’t my fault. Dread filled me when I looked down at the tiny screen clutched in my hand.

  It was 12:04, and they told me to expect the call at 12:00.

  They’re never late. Which meant I’d done something wrong. In their eyes, this was my fault. I started to shake.

  It was never supposed to be like this. This wasn’t what I was promised.

  As if on cue, the cheap little flip phone vibrated, and I ripped it out of my pants pocket and answered in a flurry.

  “Mr. Kennison.”

  My blood froze in my veins and I swallowed hard, a wave of dizziness threatening to overtake me. There are two individuals I’d been dealing with during this whole... Debacle.

  Her and him.

  She was as scary as she was beautiful, like a deadly cobra who liked to toy with her victims. But him? He was a mystery that oozed malice. His clipped accent and impersonal voice demanded immediate obedience and loyalty. He gave no quarter. They called him The Director, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anything else about him.

  “Yes, sir?”

  I leaned against a column for support. Despite the relative coolness of the airport, I could feel sweat dripping down my face.

  “Tell me, Mr. Kennison, do you think so little of our… association, that you couldn’t be bothered to at least put on a clean shirt before meeting? I hold my associates to the highest standards of professionalism. My dog is currently better dressed than you. If we are to finish our business together, you will be dressed appropriately. My driver will collect you outside of Terminal 1 in exactly 15 minutes. You would be wise to be waiting for him when he arrives.”

  The line went dead and I stared at the flip-phone in my hand for a moment. I stood there, the flat soles of my Chucks frozen to the polished airport floor.

  The wound in my side spasmed. I reached down to put pressure on it and my fingertips came away stained with blood. Holy Mother— This hurts.

  He made it sound like I was here on purpose. I didn’t pack for this meeting. How could I? I’d barely made it out of Seattle alive. Vinnie and his little bitch had seen to that. The mysterious car that had sped out of the darkness to collect me from my attempted kidnapping? I had no idea who they were. But I knew who they worked for. They’d dumped me at SeaTac without saying a word. I knew I had to get out of town, fast. This was my only option. I was just lucky that my sport coat covered the wound in my side well enough to get me on the plane without the flight attendant giving me a sideways glance.

  Lucky.

  Hah.

  I didn’t believe in luck. I made my own luck.

  They’ll regret getting in my way. There are people who will pay for the information I have.

  The memory of Vinnie spurred me to hurry back down the breezeway and head to the prime airport shopping area. These people were not known for their patience, and I knew I wouldn’t be given a second chance if I missed the driver. I was in Terminal 3, but the airport was small, so I should be able to make it in time.

  I ignored the pain in my side, pushed my small backpack on my unhurt shoulder and sprinted through the crowd toward the airport tram. The people I had admired for their ebb and flow closed in on me as soon as I needed to hurry. With each passing second, my anxiety rose until I finally couldn’t take it anymore.

  I barged through the crowd, uncaring of who I pushed out of the way in the process. The doors to the tram were just closing as I slid in and breathed a sigh of relief. The other travelers looked on, unimpressed, while I breathed heavily and pressed my backpack to my side to cover the dark stain on my shirt.

  My time had dwindled to a measly 8 minutes by the time we converged on the platform at Terminal 1. I flung my body out the door and ran until I saw the familiar logo. I skidded to a stop in front of a stern-looking salesperson who looked as though he was ready to call security before I shoved three crumpled hundred-dollar bills at him.

  “Shirt. Black. Sport Coat. Black. Tie. Black. Hurry.”

  The man looked me over for a second, holding the cash delicately between his fingers.

  “Size?” he asked frostily. He glanced at my side and I pulled my jacket over the wound. I could feel blood trickling down my side, itching as it soaked into the waistband of my boxers.

  “39. 15 ½. If you get me something in the next 2 minutes, there’s another hundred in a tip for you.”

  The man strolled over to the mannequin and pulled a charcoal colored sports jacket off it and grabbed a black dress shirt and tie and held it out to me expectantly. I nodded my thanks and shoved more cash at him.

  The bell for the tram rang, and I darted forward, clutching my new purchases in my arms as if they were my newborn child and leapt into the car. A single seat in between two retirees wearing matching pastel colored visors was available, and I sat down gratefully and ripped open the shirt packaging.

  Four minutes to ride an airport tram to the next Terminal, change my entire outfit and meet someone at an as-yet-determined meeting spot.

  There’s no way. This is the end. You’ll never make it.

  “You’re in a hurry, dear,” The woman on my right looked over at me with interest as I plucked pins out of my shirt and
tried to unbutton it as fast as possible.

  “Uh, yes. I’m, uh, late. Gotta change so I’m not too late.” I chuckled miserably.

  The woman on my left patted my knee.

  “Wedding?”

  I stared at her blankly but nodded. It’s as good a reason as any. And I must have looked terrified enough to sell it.

  With a deep breath, I pulled off my linen sport jacket and tugged the printed button down off my torso. I winced as the cotton fibers ripped away from my wound. The two women, along with the rest of the car stared at me with a mixture of horror and amusement on their faces.

  I didn’t care.

  We were approaching the terminal platform, and I at least had my shirt on. I hurriedly buttoned as many buttons as I could before stuffing the stained shirt and torn jacket in my bag and prepared to disembark.

  “Your tie, dear?” The old woman on my right held out my new tie, perfectly tied in a Windsor knot.

  I took it gratefully, thanked her, slipped it over my head and cinched it tight.

  The second the doors opened, and I was out of the car like greased lightning. I tucked my shirt into my pants as I ran towards the ground transportation door.

  The map showed two locations for ground pickup, two levels apart, and I almost smashed my fist into the stupid lit-up map in frustration. My time was up and I had no idea where I was meeting my contact.

  I slipped the tattered sport coat on and picked my backpack back up.

  Shoulders squared, I walked toward the outside doors and my fate.

  When I stepped out onto the cement, the little phone in my pocket vibrated again.

  I opened it and answered, not daring to speak another word.

  “Mr. Kennison.” The Director sounded even colder than before. “You are late. I do not abide by tardiness. Consider your agreement with Apogee - and the protection it afforded you - terminated. You’re on your own.”

  Before I could answer, the phone line went dead. I felt another buzz, and I saw I had an incoming text.

  It was a grainy picture of a person standing in the dark, crouched next to a body that had been staked to the floor. There was a strange smile on my face, and the body on the ground was unmistakably Vinnie Quake.

  An icy shiver ran down my spine, and I squinted, looking at the picture again. It had to be from a security camera. How else—

  Another message came through and I clicked the link, my heart in my throat.

  It was another picture of me, only this time I was standing outside an airport terminal wearing a blazer and a backpack. A red target had been superimposed on my chest. Terror bloomed in my gut and I found it hard to breathe.

  One word accompanied the message.

  Run.

  I took off like a shot.

  People like Apogee? They don’t ask twice.

  TO BE CONTINUED IN DOUBLE STAKES: A VAMPR GAMBLE

  DOUBLE STAKES: A VAMPR GAMBLE

  Sometimes PR work was like fighting a hydra—as soon as one problem was solved, three more would rise in its place. And my sword arm was getting tired.

  * * *

  After several brushes with death in a very short amount of time, the only thing on Tuesday Matson’s mind is getting out of Seattle for a mini-vacation. One week of margaritas, low-maintenance clients, and living life on the wilder side is exactly what she needs to recover from the chaos of Vinnie Quake.

  * * *

  With her best friend Adrienne in tow, Tuesday heads to Sin City determined to get her head on straight and refocus on her goals. No worries. No stress. No responsibilities. Just relaxation.

  * * *

  But plans have a way of derailing themselves at the worst possible moment, and Tuesday’s attempt at relaxation becomes a race against time when the powerful Sin City Underground takes a deadly interest in her extracurricular activities.

  * * *

  It’s Vegas, baby! But there’s more at stake than a little ill-advised slot-machine action. If she has any hope of leaving Vegas alive, Tuesday has to play her cards right. But which matters more? A chance at revenge, or unlocking a secret that too many people have died to protect...

  * * *

  Double Stakes is a dark paranormal/urban fantasy thriller featuring a strong-willed PR agent who is committed to her clients—no matter the cost.

  * * *

  Perfect for lovers of True Blood and Scandal, scroll up and one-click now to continue your journey to the truth with Book 2 in the Pisces Paranormal PR Agency series!

  Grab your copy at www.books2read/VamPRVegas

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Readers:

  That was a ride. Thanks for giving us a chance and picking up our book!

  We hope the idea of a paranormal PR agency is as intriguing to you as it is to us. At Pisces Paranormal Relations (PR) Agency, they deal with clientele who are complicated, sometimes undead, often violent, and always in need of a fixer. Fast. Vinnie and Tuesday aren’t done yet. The adventure continues in Double Stakes: A VamPR Gamble, out this summer.

  As indie authors, we rely on our reviews and reader recommendations to reach our audience. Loved it? Hated it? Somewhere in between? Consider leaving a few words in a review. We appreciate your honest feedback. If you loved it, tell a friend and then come tell us! Come be part of our Book Club and geek out with us about vampires and some of our more mysterious characters. Find us on Facebook at Bee Murray’s Book Club and, while you’re there, make sure you’re following our series page for exclusive updates: Facebook.com/PiscesPRAgency

  * * *

  With stabby love!

  Bee & Niobe

  ABOUT BEE MURRAY

  Bee Murray is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romance with a side of mischief. She refuses to be constrained by just one niche so expect anything and everything from PNR rom-com to dark, gritty, contemporary romance!

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  You can join her in shenanigans on Facebook at facebook.com/beemurraybooks or on Instagram at instagram.com/beemurraybooks. Unlike Vinnie, she doesn’t bite. Usually. Come say hi!

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  Want to be the first to know about new books? Like to collect random facts? Sign up for the sporadic-but-usually-monthly newsletter and get sneak peeks, book recs, and sassy commentary from Bee: sendfox.com/beemurraybooks

  ABOUT NIOBE MARSH

  Niobe Marsh is the USA Today Bestselling penname of a prolific romance author writing in several different genres. Here you will find monsters, supernatural lovers, dark heroes, and dangerous heroines in search of their happily ever after—whatever that means.

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  Follow Niobe on Amazon, Facebook, or on Instagram, or sign up for her newsletter for new releases, giveaways, and more!