“Me too,” I said with a laugh.
He finished hooking on the strap and then slung the guitar around his neck and shoulder. After pulling a pick from his pocket, he began to strum again. “What about you? How much does murder pay?”
I couldn’t tell if he was being a dick or teasing so I said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He stopped strumming and cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t think I minced my words. I mean, how much do you get paid for bounty-hunting?”
“Five grand a subject. And sorry I thought you were being a jerk for a second.”
Judson whistled between his teeth. “Five big ones. Damn, I thought I’d be worth more than that.”
I laughed and said, “Sometimes I get more if the job was hard. But yours was supposed to be easy.”
He arched an eyebrow and then looked down at his guitar, tuning it once more. “Is that so?”
“Turns out, it was the hardest job I’ve ever had.” I began pacing the floor in my red stilettos. The dim lights from the ceiling reflected dully on my black leather pants. “So much so, that I’m thinking of giving it up altogether.”
He looked up and kind of froze. But before he could speak, the back door burst open and three men walked in, laughing loudly. One carried a guitar himself, and the other, drumsticks.
“Judson!” the drummer said, coming over to awkwardly hug him.
They all reeked of alcohol and weed, and I had to resist the urge to cover my sensitive nose.
“Get off me, man! Are you drunk?” Judson asked, backing up.
He laughed. “No, just baked, man!”
“Seriously, Amos?”
“Oh, get off it. You know I play better when I’m a little loaded,” Amos replied, laughing.
I could tell Judson was getting pissed off. “Come on. We have to be onstage in like twenty minutes.” He looked at the other two. “Where the fuck you guys been?”
“Partying,” the lead singer said. “Damn, what’s your problem, anyway, Jud? I invited you over, you didn’t even text me back, man.”
“You know I don’t smoke, asshole.” He huffed. “Let’s just get this over with. We’ll talk about this later.”
“Fine,” the singer said, looking at me then back to Judson.
They all headed toward the stage area, and Judson kissed me on the nose. “Sorry. I planned on introducing you, but clearly they wouldn’t remember it anyway.”
“Are they always like that?” I asked.
He nodded. “Pretty much. But tonight it’s a little worse. I hope Les can remember the damn lyrics.”
“Break a leg, babe,” I said, then kissed him for good luck.
I made my way around to the bar and ordered my usual as I perched myself onto a barstool. I discreetly put in my earplugs and was happy they worked like a charm once Innubis began to play. I could still hear them, it was just sort of muffled.
I reflected back on our conversation earlier. Judson did seem like he had been in a bad mood and wasn’t very nice while asking me about my job and pay. I supposed I couldn’t blame him… learning we met because I was sent to kill him would leave a sour taste in anyone’s mouth. Combined with the fact that his bandmates were late, he was obviously stressed. He did seem just fine to kiss me before he went onstage though.
God! Look at me analyzing every little damn thing. Stop it, Dani.
After almost two hours, they finally finished. They really were a good band and their fans were going nuts, yelling “Encore!” As much as I enjoyed it, I sure hope they didn’t do an “encore”… Judson and I had shit to discuss.
Thankfully, a few minutes later, Judson came out and met me at the bar. After taking a few selfies and signing a few autographs—on paper and bare skin—he was mostly left alone.
I handed him the club soda and lime I’d ordered and he drank it down. Then I handed him a cold bottle of water, which he also downed. He was pretty sweaty.
“Thanks, beautiful,” I saw him mouth to me.
Whoops, forgot about the earplugs. I popped them out. “You’re welcome.”
He looked at me strangely. “Earplugs? We that bad?”
I laughed. “No, you guys are awesome.” I pointed to my ear. “Sensitive hearing. The loud guitar riffs and scream-singing kinda hurts.”
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t realize.” He led me by the hand and tossed the empty water bottle into the trash. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I set my mostly full bloody mary onto a nearby table and walked out the door.
“Interesting. Aren’t you the little sleuth?” I asked, grinning.
He nodded. “It took me all day, but I really do think the family of this Marci Vanhoose could be responsible.”
We sat at Judson’s dining room table. He had his laptop open and a bunch of notes scattered. He had printed out a list the PI had sent him of death by animal attack over the past six months. The first couple he had easily ruled out as actual animal deaths, like the ones from state parks where humans had gotten too close. From the gory photos, they definitely weren’t vampire kills. Vampires didn’t rake large claws across people’s chests and rip off their breastplates.
Shudder.
One of the reports were of Marci’s death. The photo was most definitely a vampire kill, and even more interesting was that her brother was a deputy with the Arapahoe County Sheriff’s Office. Someone like that would definitely know how to kill on the sly and remain hidden.
“But why would he think it was a vampire? I mean, how would he even know they exist?” I asked.
Judson looked at me. “How do I know you guys exist?”
I shook my head. “Ya know, I never bothered to ask you. How do you know it was a vamp who killed your sister?”
“The asshole wasn’t exactly discreet about being one. Moved in a blur. Left her with her throat torn open. He had no weapon on him. He also hissed at me. What
