by V Vee
The
Mad
Kitty
Kitty Chronicles
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
V. Vee
Copyright
The Mad Kitty © copyright 2019 V. Vee
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Dedication
For the Irishman.
Thank You
To the other Kitty Chronicles authors: Purr.
To my readers. My friends. My family. Thank you all so much.
To Sara and Jayne: You rock hardcore!
To the future: Here I come…
Blurb
Black Obsidian Stone is a powerful cleanser of psychic smog created within your aura and is a strong psychic protection stone. This stone has powerful metaphysical properties that will help to shield you against negativity. It has the ability to cut ties, to break negative attachments to people with whom you have been close. This black stone is excellent to assist you in releasing disharmony that has built up in your day to day life and during work on yourself, including resentment of others, fear and anger.
Katrina Hayes knows three things to be true: Music has a magical quality. She was born to sing. And anxiety is a b-. Because of the anxiety that rides her back constantly, the jazz singer finds herself in an alternative medicine/sex store, holding a black obsidian dildo in her hands. Hoping it can help rid her of the panic that has taken possession of her. So that she can sign her new contract with a recording company. It needs to work, or Katrina’s career will be over.
Ludwig VonOfferson is an Asian, Irish, and German orphaned, killer for hire, who embraces the rage and negative emotions that have been his foundation for his entire life. It has made him top in his field. He’s the number one assassin and he has no regrets about the lives he’s taken… or the money he’s received doing so. That is, he didn’t until he met Katrina. Now he wishes he could be someone… anyone… else.
But when the black obsidian doesn’t work on Katrina, and instead works on Ludwig, a man she thought she would only be with for the weekend, the two suddenly find themselves plunged into a world much more dangerous than either of them expected. Because suddenly Ludwig can’t kill, which has put both of their lives in jeopardy.
And it all started because Katrina followed a cat into a store…
Prologue
Food and fucking, what else could a tom cat need? He crept forward sticking close to the wall of the structure, wood, brick, concrete and plaster; it didn’t make a difference. As long as he found some delectable morsel to nibble on and a nice cute kitty to rut, everything in his world was paradise.
A sharp sound rent the air. Clatter. Hmm, something must have fallen or maybe a nice fat rat…smaller mouse, was on the run for their life. Yum, a late dinner or early breakfast. The amber glow of the rising sun was on the horizon, but the bright rays of the illuminating orb hadn’t quite broken through the darkness yet. It was the best time to do any and all things fun and possible illicit.
He stopped.
Fog hung low to the ground and the smell of rain was ripe in the air. Perhaps he should find shelter. He darted across the open space to the next building. The door swung open with a squeal. Human legs stepped from beyond the clear barrier and he waited. Unsure if he should scamper away or stay. Some humans were nice, others not so much.
“Hello there.”
The person crouched and slid gentle fingers through the fur along his spine.
Chapter One
Katrina
I stared at my manager, Andrew McCarthy, and tried not to let out a squeal of excitement at his words. After fourteen years of hustling, of sacrificing, going without food some days, of singing in dive bars, it looked as if my luck was finally turning around. I sank my hand deeper into the fur of the grey tom cat I’d found right outside of my back door early that morning when I’d gone out for my “secret” cigarette. I couldn’t help but think that my little feline friend had something to do with my change of circumstance. I mean, I’m not a nut case or anything, but I truly believed that cats and other creatures could signal both positive and negative change in one’s life. And finding this cat, whom I’d affectionately named, Brian, after my favorite actor: Brian Tee, from the show Chicago Med©, a cat with the most unnerving look of wisdom in his eyes, I thought was a very good omen.
I shook my head in an attempt to dispel my wandering thoughts. It was something that happened frequently when my emotions were high or when I was feeling anxious. That wasn’t something I could allow to happen right then. I had to keep my wits about me. This was too important.
Look Mama, I made it.
“Say it again, Andrew,” I politely asked in my usual soft voice.
Andrew grinned at me and ran his fingers over his thick, red beard. I’d always found Andrew handsome, but he was my manager. We worked together. And neither of us would dare to cross that line. Besides, though Andrew was my manager, I knew he also owned a lot of other businesses, and there was something a little… fearful in his eyes whenever I looked at him. A glint. A hint of danger that always made me hesitate in smiling at him too flirtatiously.
There was his wife, Kyra, also. She was even scarier than he was. More than once she’d given me a look that I knew—without her having to say a word—was her way of telling me to stay away from her husband or my body would be dismembered and burned.
Then again, that could have been my overactive imagination as well. My mother had always told me she’d never met a more imaginative kid when she was alive. It wasn’t my fault. As an only child with no father, no grandparents, no cousins, aunts or uncles, with only my mother for companionship—a mother who worked from sunup until sundown—I’d had to find a way to keep myself entertained. And if I wasn’t making up songs, or singing ones on the radio, I was creating elaborate fantasies I would act out in the rooms of our small apartment. It was a habit I’d never really grown out of.
Probably why I was still single and fantasizing that some big, burly, scary—but gorgeous—man was going to come along and sweep me off my feet.
“I said,” Andrew’s deep voice with its Irish lilt brought me out of my fantastical musings. “The head of A&R over at Sony Music Entertainment™ called me regarding your demo I sent over. The big guys loved what you heard. Said you were bringing back the purity and magic of jazz and they sent over a contract for you to look over. If we like what we read, then they want you to come in and sign it.”
I grinned widely and nodded. “I thought that’s what you said, but I needed to be sure.”
Brian let out a small yowl when I tightened my fingers in his fur. I apologized with a tiny chuckle. I didn’t mean to hurt the little guy. I reached out for another tiny anchovy and held my hand out for him. My palm tingled when his scratchy tongue swiped at the tasty morsel as he ate it directly from me.
Andrew nodded his head at the tiny creature in my lap.
�
��When’d you get a new pet?” he asked.
I shook my head and let out another soft laugh. “He just sort of appeared on my doorstep,” I replied with a shrug. “I checked to see if he had a collar or if he was chipped at all, but he doesn’t seem to belong to anyone.”
Andrew quirked an eyebrow at me, though he said nothing.
I rolled my eyes. “I know. I need to take him to the v-e-t to make sure there’s nothing wrong with him.”
I paused when Brian turned his furry head to peer up at me. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn he knew exactly what I was talking about. I breathed a sigh of relief when he merely stretched, stood, turned around in my lap and settled back down on my legs, his legs out splayed, his front paws draped over my thighs and his face pressed into the tops of my knees. I didn’t know what it was about this cat. He was ethereal. Perhaps he was the reincarnation of my deceased mother. Or maybe he was my spirit animal. I’d always thought of myself as more of a black panther, but maybe I was simply a common tom cat.
“Well,” Andrew grunted as he rose. My eyes traveled of their own accord over his tall, wide, broadly built frame. From the top of his head with its surprisingly thick, shoulder-length red hair, to his square jawline, covered in a bushy, red beard, to his thick neck, wide shoulders, barrel chest, thin waist, very evident eight-pack, slender hips, trunk-like thighs, and long legs. I knew why Kyra was so enamored of her husband and why, whenever the two of them were together they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. If Andrew had been mine, he would have been giving me the news of my new, possible contract, in bed… in between my thighs… with my juices on his face.
I cleared my throat, feeling my skin heat, as I lifted my gaze up past his pink lips—the bottom one fuller than the top—up past his slender, patrician nose, to his emerald, green eyes. My face grew hotter when I saw the amusement in his eyes, and knew he’d caught me checking him out. It wasn’t the first time, and it no doubt wouldn’t be the last time.
Fuck. I need to get laid. Or at least find a decent dildo.
“I’m going to go ahead and go. Kyra’s in her last month of pregnancy as you know, and trying to maintain our home, watch our other four kids, and run our other businesses when I’m off taking care of our artists, tires her easily. I like to be there and help ease the load when I can,” he said with a fond smile, his eyes growing soft and distant as he thought of his wife.
I nodded. “You’re a good husband,” I said.
He simply shrugged. “She makes it easy by being an amazing wife.” His eyes fell on me and speared me in place with an intense look. “You’ll find the right guy too, one day, Katrina,” he said. “The one who complements you, is your equal, supports you, protects and loves you, more than you ever thought possible.”
While it wasn’t the first time Andrew had ever said those words to me, this time I actually believed him. Maybe it was the purr that rose up from Brian’s tiny body, but whatever it was I smiled and inclined my head.
“I know, Andrew. He’s out there. We just need to find each other.”
“He may be here sooner than you can imagine.” With those final words, that sent a shiver of anticipation up my spine, Andrew tossed me a wave and headed out my front door.
I sat in my dark red armchair for a moment longer, before I released a sigh and rose. While I knew my forever-guy was out there somewhere, he wasn’t presently in my life, and until he got there, I had to take care of myself. I placed Brian down on the chair and headed towards the stairs.
Chapter Two
Ludwig
I could hear the man’s loud, harsh breathing as he attempted to hide from me. I grit my teeth, clenching my jaw. I was an expert at my job. Every last one of my marks had been taken out without much effort on my part. Making me a hot commodity. The most sought-after and highest paid assassin in the game. And yet this fat fuck had been playing possum when I’d shown up in his bedroom. I’d thought he was sleeping, but the disgusting pervert had been jerking off to a picture of his son’s wife.
The same son who’d put out a hit on his father.
When the light caught on the side of my gun with its silencer, he’d let out a loud yell. The sound had startled me, which was all he’d needed to throw a heavy-ass glass paperweight right at me. He’d taken off for the bathroom before I had a chance to get my bearings.
The bathroom with its secret passageway to his son’s room.
The room where the man was now hiding out in.
Rage flooded my every pore. I was 200 and 0. I hadn’t lost a mark yet, and this orange-tanned, overweight, grotesque, sexual predator was not going to be my first.
“P-please don’t k-kill me!” he yelled out. “Whatever you’re being paid, w-whoever is p-paying you. I’ll double it!”
I snorted. I knew for a fact the man had no money. I’d helped his son clean the man’s coffers just earlier that week. It wasn’t a service I offered all of my customers, only those who’d asked me to kill someone with deviant behavior. Someone who deserved to die.
Someone I would have killed for free, if I didn’t insist on being paid.
“Triple! I’ll give you triple. As a matter of fact, if you take on another job, and kill my son, I can give you six times what you’re being paid right now!” His voice was frantic and desperate, but his words made me halt in my tracks. Not because I was considering it, but because I couldn’t believe this man was suggesting that I kill his son, just to get the money to save his own life.
I was going to enjoy this kill.
I listened to him scramble from behind the door. The sound of his panic like a cacophony of a haunting melody. The stench of his fear was a musky, heavy aroma that I filled my lungs with on a deep inhale.
Mmm... delicious.
“P-please,” he cried. “I can make one phone call as soon as you kill my son! I can even give you half before.”
I snorted and shook my head. My fingers tingled with the anticipation to pull the trigger and kill this bastard. He was the bottom of the fucking barrel when it came to human decency and parenthood. I would be doing his son and the world a favor when I finally got rid of him. My mouth watered with anticipation.
I tried not to take too pleasure in my kills. I was an assassin for hire, yes, but I was also a businessman—not a serial killer. I got pleasure from a job well done. From taking filth off the streets, not from the animalistic act of shooting, stabbing, gutting, maiming, poisoning, pushing, dismembering, or killing a man... or woman. I was a professional about my shit. Cold. Detached. Apathetic and emotionless.
It was the way Andrew, the boss—known to the world as “The Irishman”—required all of us to be.
“The only emotion coming from any of you pussies had better be if your woman left you, and all the fighting, killing, and pleading you did still didn’t bring her back. Or if you just had a baby. Or if you’re dying and you can see the Pearly Gates opening and the Holy Mother is welcoming you inside. Understood?”
We’d all understood. No one ever misunderstood Andrew’s words. There had only been one man, a former “associate” who had claimed ignorance when it came to Andrew’s directives. The Irishman had given him two minutes—exactly two minutes—to plead his case. The whole time he’d been loading his gun. When the man finished, Andrew had nodded, lifted his gun, and shot the man straight between his eyes. No one had moved. We’d all kept our gaze on our boss. When he’d finished, Andrew stood, placed his gun on his desk and said one thing:
“I don’t repeat myself. No mistakes. No misunderstandings. And for fuck’s sake, if you screw up, take your fucking punishment like a goddamn man.”
Which was why I curled my lip up in disgust at the sounds of blubbering coming from the man on the other side. Shaking my head with a sigh, I tuned out his sobbing, his prayers, and his pleading to the Saints and the Almighty.
He would see them all soon enough and could plead his case then.
I grabbed the night vision, X-ray g
oggles from my bag, put them on and found the man’s form huddled against the wall by the bed. His son’s bed. Where many of his atrocities had occurred. He probably had an erection thinking of his daughter-in-law, even as he pleaded for his life.
Fucking animal.
I aimed for his head through the door, using the goggles to guide me. Die, you disgusting pig, I thought, before pulling the trigger. I fired three more times, watching the spray of blood and brain matter explode throughout the room, before I lowered my weapon and exhaled. Turning to head towards my chosen exit—the backdoor, I fingered the button that would turn back on the camera feed.
Another job well done.
Now?
I needed to take care of my other priority and get laid.
Chapter Three
Katrina
When I came back downstairs, Brian the cat was staring up at me with a bored expression on his face. Okay, okay, I know, he’s a cat. They always looked bored and frustrated by humans, but this took that particular expression to the extreme. Rolling my eyes, I smoothed my palms down the front of my dark green peasant skirt, and adjusted my black, V-neck, soft leather tank top and headed over to pick up the cat. He yawned when I did so, and I laughed softly.
“Is your life really that hard, that you’re always exhausted?” I teased him. I shook my head, sure that if my mother were still alive and saw me having a conversation with a feline, she would have an absolute fit.
Katrina! Must you talk to animals who cannot respond? Why don’t you try forming connections and relationships with humans, huh?
