Stealing His Kitten Read online

  STEALING HIS KITTEN

  MINK

  Stealing His Kitten

  MINK © 2022

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from MINK.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  Stealing His Kitten

  Chapter 1

  Avery

  Chapter 2

  Marigold

  Chapter 3

  Avery

  Chapter 4

  Marigold

  Chapter 5

  Avery

  Chapter 6

  Marigold

  Chapter 7

  Avery

  Chapter 8

  Marigold

  Chapter 9

  Avery

  Chapter 10

  Marigold

  Chapter 11

  Avery

  Chapter 12

  Marigold

  Chapter 13

  Avery

  Chapter 14

  Marigold

  Chapter 15

  Avery

  Chapter 16

  Marigold

  Chapter 17

  Avery

  Chapter 18

  Marigold

  Chapter 19

  Avery

  Chapter 20

  Marigold

  Chapter 21

  Avery

  Chapter 22

  Marigold

  Chapter 23

  Avery

  Epilogue

  Also by MINK

  About the Author

  STEALING HIS KITTEN

  MINK

  Marigold

  I’m not supposed to be in this greenhouse, and I’m definitely not supposed to be stealing this super rare flower, but I’m in deep trouble, and this flower is the key out of it. Too bad it’s owned by a man who catches me easily, calls me his little cat burglar, and takes me captive. He does other things, too, things that make me hot all over.

  Avery

  When I catch a thief, I generally have no mercy. After all, I’m a thief too, so I hold others in my profession to the highest standard. Marigold, however, is a special case. One that makes my mouth water and my heart pound whenever she’s near. Too bad her father is a cop, one who’s heard of me and all my dirty deeds. But I’m not about to let the greatest treasure of my life slip away, even if she doesn’t yet know just how bad I truly am. Marigold is mine, and I always keep what I steal.

  1

  AVERY

  “Are you seriously telling me that they gave the contract to the Brewster brothers?” I sigh and lean back in my desk chair.

  “You’re not in the game anymore, remember?” Elliot chides.

  “I’m not, but I can’t believe anyone would give those bumbling fools a contract, much less one that requires precision. If they manage to kill this senator without getting caught or leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to themselves, I’ll be shocked.”

  “Remember that congressman you offed?” he asks.

  “Which one?” I snort.

  “The one with the mistress who looked like Dolly Parton.”

  “Oh, yeah. The one from Tennessee. He was a real asshole. Thumping his Bible on TV and beating up his mistress in private. Killing him was easy.” I sigh. “But those days are gone.”

  “You chose this, remember?”

  “I did.” I retired young, mainly because people in my line of work rarely make it to true retirement age. “What are you up to besides giving me bad news?”

  “Job in Vienna. Nothing flashy. Stealing some art. Pretty run of the mill.”

  My ears perk up. “Anything I might be interested in?”

  He laughs. “Doubtful. Besides, don’t you have enough priceless shit in that mansion of yours?”

  “Never.” I drum my fingers on the desk. “Tell me if you get anything particularly rare. I can pay top dollar.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to see you on an episode of Filthy Rich Hoarders anytime soon, so I think I’ll keep my spoils to myself. Besides, I’ve already got a hefty payday coming if I can lift this stuff and get it out of the country.”

  “You will.” I try not to sound jealous, but fuck, I miss work. When I was in it, I couldn’t wait to get out of it. But now … Now I wander the halls of my home, inspect my holdings, and simply exist. I don’t engage in shootouts, don’t steal masterpieces, don’t torture rivals for fun, don’t do anything except maintain my empire of rare and valuable things.

  Heirloom rubs against my leg, bringing me back to the now. I pick him up and set him on the desk, his big blue eyes peering at me.

  “All right, I’m going to get to work,” Elliot says.

  “Call me if you need me.”

  We hang up, and I scratch Heirloom under his chin. He purrs and butts his head against mine, the diamonds on his collar sparkling with each movement.

  “Do you have any idea how spoiled you are?” I ask him.

  He rubs his cheek against me.

  “You do, don’t you?” I smile. No point taking my frustration out on him. He’s by far my favorite possession, though I can admit a shelter cat who’s missing half an ear doesn’t seem priceless in comparison to the rest of my collection. He is, all the same. “Let’s check the greenhouse. The golden orchid is going to open any day now. We can’t miss it.”

  He hops from the desk and trots into the hall. I follow him, winding my way down the stairs and along the back hallway.

  Cutting through the kitchen, I run into Mrs. Lou. “Something smells good.”

  She nods to a beat, her Airbuds in, and chops an onion. Mr. Lou sits at the kitchen table and carefully folds napkins, each one of them precise.

  “How’s it going?”

  He looks up at me and cups a hand to his ear. “Mr. Harbin?”

  “I was just asking how you’re doing.”

  He smiles, his wrinkles doubling. “Wonderful, thank you sir.”

  Mrs. Lou shakes her hips and slides the diced onion into a hot pan, the sizzle loud in the open space.

  “I’ll leave you to it.” I keep going, following Heirloom out the back door, along the pool deck and to the greenhouse. When I open the door, he jets inside and hops up on the worktable.

  The last rays of sun are fading as I inspect a row of plants, each of them rarer than the last. It’s not that I particularly enjoy plants or greenery, but certain plants are worth a fortune. Some of these are the last of their kind. Priceless. That makes them fall under my purview, and I keep them here as part of my collection.

  I spritz a few of them with a water bottle, then continue my inspection. Mr. Lou has been doing an excellent job keeping everything in top shape. But I came here to look at my prize–a rare golden orchid.

  It’s one of only three known to exist in the world, and I have it right here.

  When I open the door to its special room, Heirloom pads in and looks around, his nose in the air as if he smells something I can’t.

  I stop in front of the orchid’s pot. The leaves are wide and only slightly curved, golden veins running through them in variegated patterns. It’s beautiful even when it isn’t in bloom, but I’m here for the true payoff. At the top of a thin stem, there are four dark green buds, each one tightly wrapped in on itself.

  Once they open, their insides will practically glow gold but only for a single day. After that, the b
looms will wither and die until conditions are right for another bloom. That could take years.

  I’m careful not to breathe on the plant, and I certainly don’t touch it with my bare hands. It needs to blossom on its own.

  Heirloom, however, jumps onto the counter, his nose still in the air as he sniffs.

  “Not too close, boy.” I scratch the top of his head and shoo him back to the floor and out of the room.

  When I close the door, I hear something else click. Turning, I stare around the greenhouse to find the source of the sound.

  Nothing moves.

  I stare for a while.

  Then Heirloom hops onto the worktable again, his eyes on me.

  “Come on. Let’s go in.” I scoop him into my arms, but he wriggles free and darts into the bushes beside the pool. Leaving him outside isn’t ideal, but I can tell by the twitch of his tail that he’s on the hunt.

  Once again, I’m jealous. I used to be on the hunt. Now I stare at flowers and wait for them to bloom. I rub my temples and keep striding toward the house.

  “Heirloom, last chance,” I call when I open the back door, but he’s disappeared into the deepening twilight.

  I let the door close and unlock his cat flap at the bottom.

  It’s fine. He won’t go far.

  2

  MARIGOLD

  You will not steal the cat. You will not steal the cat. You will not steal the cat. I repeat the mantra over and over again in my head. But he’s so adorable. His owner makes him walk around with that ridiculously heavy-looking collar on. That can’t be comfortable, and it better not be real diamonds. I should get a closer look.

  I would if the owner hadn’t let the gorgeous kitty take off and disappear into the bushes. Then he just went into the house, leaving the poor cat out here all alone somewhere.

  “Get it together, Goldie,” I whisper to myself. I’m only here to steal one thing, and that’s a flower. I have to concentrate.

  I can’t let myself get distracted. I know stealing a flower sounds like the silliest thing ever, but it was an offer I couldn’t turn down. It was either this or jail, and I’d never make it on the inside. You can’t have cats in prison. So that’s a definite no-go for me.

  Stealing, I could do. I mean that’s what got me into this mess to begin with. But what I’m not used to is breaking in. That’s new to me. My fingers only get a bit sticky when an object is right there staring me in my face and I think no one will really notice. I had to google a how-to on the whole burglary thing.

  I’m in all black as suggested and am waiting for the sun to set before I make my move. All I could find in my closet was a black hoodie and yoga pants. I pull the hood up to mask my hair in case there are cameras or something. When they play back the footage, they’ll think I’m a boy. These rich people always have cameras.

  I shift onto my knees from my hiding place under a bench. I fight a whimper when my knees scrape along the edge of it, and I hear my pants rip in the process as a sharp pain shoots through me.

  I barely fit under the bench to begin with. For once, my small stature was actually helpful. I was seconds away from getting my hands on the flower lily or whatever-you-call-it thing and then that giant scary man showed up with his adorable cat.

  If not for the adorable cat, I might have peed myself looking at the sheer size of the man. The precious furball offset the enormous scary man vibes that radiated from his owner. It had me wondering what I’d gotten myself into. On the plus side, he’s a cat person, so he can’t be some mean, angry person that would get super upset over me taking a flower, right?

  Then again, wealthy people are weird. I know because I clean their houses. Which is the very thing that has gotten me in trouble and landed me where I am right now. Mr. Hoover, one of my employers, wants some special flower, and this greenhouse is the only place that has it on this side of the planet. Are flowers really that rare?

  I’ve been in the wrong business. Here I’ve been stealing jewelry along with other rare small items that I thought would go unnoticed, and I should have been ransacking gardens?

  Taking this one flower will get me out of trouble with Mr. Hoover. That’s our deal. He said he won’t report me to the police for the necklace and watch I’d taken. I guess his wife hadn’t noticed the two Birkin bags or three Cartier rings that were missing. Her closet is so stuffed with designer goods that she may never notice.

  In my defense, I needed the money those items got me. It wasn’t as if I were stealing them to profit off them. I could only get a quarter of what they were worth, but I’d do anything to help keep the Purry Pussy Shelter doors open. (It got its name back in the '60s, and somehow, no one questioned it.) I volunteer for them every weekend, and they’re the only no-kill cat shelter in the city. I don’t want to think about what would happen to all those cats if that place shut down.

  As I was moping over the idea of the shelter closing, I’d spotted one of Mr. Hoover’s fancy diamond encrusted watches. Without thinking, I snatched it off the dresser and stuffed it into my pocket. Sure, I was nervous at first, but that went away rather quickly.

  I was shocked with how fast I sold it. Once the transaction was done, I then made the enormous donation to the shelter. It bought the place some time, but it still wasn’t enough. They need more funding. Once two weeks went by and no one said anything about the watch, I knew I would take something else. Things quickly escalated from there, and now here I am.

  When I stand fully, my legs sting. I glance down to see one knee of my yoga pants is torn open, and blood is dripping out onto the floor.

  Oh shit! That’s like, evidence. I pull my backpack off and search for something to clean it with. All I find is hand sanitizer and tissues. The hand sanitizer might make it impossible for them to get any DNA. That’s how CSI people find you. I squirt the liquid onto the floor and rub it in the best I can with my tissues, but blood keeps dripping from my knee.

  My DNA isn’t even on file, so it doesn’t matter. Right?

  “Meow!”

  “Ah!” I gasp before quickly putting my hand over my mouth. The cat leaps onto the table in front of me. “You almost gave me a heart attack for the second time tonight.” I scratch the little guy's head. He purrs loudly as I continue to pet him. I can’t help it that his cuteness distracts me and makes me forget why I’m here. “You’re making this difficult. I’m trying to steal something here so I don’t end up in the slammer and all your third cousins end up dead!”

  “Meow.” He responds to my melodramatic outburst. He must understand, though, because he leads me back toward the same door he and the man went through after they entered the green house. I open it, and he darts inside.

  I pull out my flashlight and shine it on the flower. It sits perfectly in its clay pot. I hope it’s pretty when it blooms, because I’m only half impressed with how it looks right now. I reach out slowly and pick the pot up.

  An alarm starts to blare the second the vase leaves the stand. “There was a sensor? What is this? Ocean’s Eleven? I'm not prepared for this,” I tell the cat, who now seems a bit smug. “You could have warned me,” I hiss before I bolt out of the smaller room back into the greenhouse, but I slow when a shot of pain sears through my knee. The cat comes after me. It’s on him if he follows me home. I’m not going to turn him away.

  I reach for the handle to the greenhouse to make my escape, but it opens before I can even touch it. The same man from before stands there, blocking my exit. He’s staring down at me with a very angry but maybe excited expression on his face?

  “Hi,” I chirp. “I’m Marigold.” I try to pretend I’m calm, and this is all normal. “I was hired to do a cleaning, but I think I got the wrong address.” I scrunch my nose, trying to play up the whole I’m lost thing. “You rich people and all the greenhouses. There are so many around here. They all look the same. I can’t even get a normal house.” I start to ramble. “But then your cat distracted me and well…. Sorry?”

  “Cleanin
g? A greenhouse?” His deep voice rumbles as he pulls the hood of my sweater down. “Let me guess, this is your cleaning attire?”

  “You know it really depends on the job. Some ask me to clean in one of those sexy maid uniforms.”

  His brows pull together. He’s getting more pissed by the second.

  “That was a joke.”

  “That joke might just be on you, my little cat burglar.”

  3

  AVERY

  I take her elbow and lead her back through the greenhouse and to the table where my golden orchid belongs. “Put it down.”

  She looks up at me, then glances at the door.

  “You can try to run for it, but I promise you, I’ll catch you, little thief. You might not like what happens after that, but I will.” I stare down at her wide eyes. The thought of chasing her down sends a jolt of heat through me. I should be raging. She’s here to steal my prize orchid–though she’s clearly not a professional by any stretch of the imagination. Instead, I’m somewhat amused.

  She swallows hard. “I’ll just, um, yep, I’ll just put it right here. I was taking it outside to dust it off. It’s got all this … dirt on it, you see. It needs a cleaning.”

  “Just there.” I point to the spot where the sensor is.

  “Okay. Yep. Good. I’m glad we sorted that out.” She puts the pot down, then hitches a thumb over her shoulder. “I should be going, then. There’s a greenhouse out here somewhere that needs a good cleaning.”