Vampires, Whiskey, and Southern Charm (Masie Kicklighter #1) Read Online Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Vampires Tags Authors: Series: Masie Kicklighter Series by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
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How did he know the police might come by tomorrow? He must’ve been outside listening when Jimmie dropped me off.

Wait. No, that didn’t make any sense. He had already been inside when I came in.

The man headed toward the open window. “Your shotgun is under the couch. I will be in contact soon.”

“You promised you wouldn’t come back.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I said I would not bother you. I mentioned nothing about enjoying each other’s company.” He disappeared out the window into the night.

My entire body turned ice cold. Oh God. Oh God. He thought I was his special someone, a someone I would welcome into my life.

What was I going to do? Whatever the answer, I had to think carefully. If I told anyone what I’d witnessed last night, I’d be locked up in the crazy-coop. But if I did nothing, this man would be back like a bad summer heat rash.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Two weeks went by, and I still hadn’t heard from the man with the gravelly voice. I should’ve been tickled pink, but instead the situation felt like a tornado warning. Danger was lurking nearby, threatening to rip the roof off my quiet life any second.

I honestly didn’t know which I dreaded more: the terrifying anticipation of seeing him again, or knowing that when I did, he believed he was a vampire and I was his second chance at love.

Also, for the record, being a bloodsucking creature wasn’t the only explanation that fit, like he’d claimed.

For example, when he attacked Tall Guy—whom I’d recently learned was one Ronnie Foreman, the son of a city councilman in Nashville—I’d been in a pretty sorry state. But I also knew what I saw: blood everywhere. And, yes, it had all been cleaned up by the time Uncle Jimmie found me.

However, by my own calculations, I’d been unconscious for over five hours, so he’d had time to clean up. As for my clothes, and as repulsive as the idea was, he could’ve removed them to wash, which would explain how he knew it was my shark week.

Yes, that scenario sounded improbable—I mean, where did he find a washer and dryer at two a.m.?—but it was possible. Especially if he’d had help.

Of course, that didn’t answer a bigger question: Why go through all that fuss to hide Ronnie’s death?

Ronnie had assaulted me, killed Deedee, and then tried to choke the life out of me. Most people would’ve stuck around to tell the cops why they killed a man trying to strangle a waitress.

Unless they’re a fugitive.

If I wanted to hide a murder, I’d clean up the scene and make it look like the perpetrator had left. That was exactly what the gravelly-voiced man had done.

Then we had the incident involving Betsy. The man had taken away my shotgun in the blink of an eye. How? A sleight of hand, like those fancy Vegas magicians.

Finally, there was the question of Ronnie’s seven friends. Where had they gone? I had an answer for that, too.

After Sheriff Idiot tracked down this Ronnie guy’s address, we discovered that he’d never shown up to his wedding, and neither had his posse of groomsmen. The families filed missing persons reports, and that was when they discovered the last place the eight men had been seen alive: the Flaming Rooster, where Ronnie sexually assaulted one waitress and then returned to kill her, murdering another woman in the process.

After that discovery, the families went silent, and the search for the missing men ground to a halt.

Jimmie figured that the families didn’t want to tarnish their good names, and assumed the men had taken off to Mexico or somewhere until things cooled down. In short, the other seven men were probably still alive.

When I really mashed everything around in my head, I’d found plausible explanations that were a hundred times more rational than vampires being real.

“You ready to go?” Ashley asked, picking up the last chair and flipping it upside down on the table so the floors could be swept by the new cleaning crew tonight. Jimmie didn’t want us working alone late anymore since he believed Ronnie was still out there.

Today, though, we were closing early due to Deedee’s funeral. Because her death had been a homicide, the county had taken extra time to collect evidence before releasing the body.

A sad knot formed in my stomach. Her poor parents.

“I’ll see you over there,” I told Ashley. “I have to lock up.” Jimmie had already left to ensure everything was in order. He’d insisted on paying for the funeral on top of making the arrangements. He was a good man.

I glanced at my watch. It was nearly three o’clock, but the church was only a minute away. After the service, we’d all go to the cemetery.

I locked the front door, grabbed a heaping pile of napkins—aka free Kleenex—from under the bar, and went to retrieve my things from the back. I filled my purse, preparing for the second-worst day of my life—the first being Daddy’s funeral.



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