Page 111 of King of Hollywood

Who does that?

Who kicks a fucking cat?

Asshole, asshole, asshole.

If I hadn’t hated Barry before, I certainly did now.

Felix and I shared a glance before we were both on our feet. We checked on the cats—but both seemed fine, if not a bit spooked. They steered clear of the corpse, scurrying away and up the stairs like nothing had happened at all.

I licked the cum from my hand, and Felix groaned, watching me as he buttoned up his pants as quickly and efficiently as he could, before moving on to mine.

“I’m going to have to kill him,” I said simply, my mind already whirring through how exactly I’d catch up before he could tell anyone what he’d seen.

“I can fix it—” Felix promised. And for once…I believed him. I cocked my head at him, and he grinned, wide and wolfish. We made our way to the front door, but Felix stepped back, away from the peep of light that spanned the hallway. Barry had left it open—because of course he had. Inconsiderate, nosy-ass bitch.

Never mind the fact that I had done the exact same thing, and been equally nosy only a few minutes prior.

“Take my phone,” I said, pulling it from my pocket and passing it to him. “The sun is setting and you should be able to come outside soon.” He took my phone, pinching it between his fingers like he didn’t know how to hold it. I snorted, then leaned over and typed my passcode in. “The password is F-E-L-I-X.” He blinked, then laughed, eyeing me with obvious affection. “Call Allen, tell him what happened. He’ll bring The Club over and they’ll take care of the body.”

“Okay,” Felix echoed.

“When the sun is down, come find me.”

He nodded, eyes wide.

I kissed him.

I kissed him hard, giving his mouth one last ravenous flick of my tongue before I retreated, and marched out the front door, a man on a mission. A murdery, delicious mission. I didn’t know exactly what Felix meant by “I can fix it.” But I was determined to stall until he came to save the day.

Of course, because Barry was a bitch—with self-preservation—he was running down the block toward his own party. I could only hope that I could catch him before he said something to the wrong person, or god forbid, called the cops.

His hair was flopping all over the place as he bolted down the street, wearing what looked like a suit from a dollar store. I marched after him, offering a few smiles and waves toward the other people that headed toward his house for the party. The whole block would be there—which did not make incapacitating Barry easy.

Still, I’d manage.

The sun was sinking below the tree line. I probably had ten minutes or so until Felix was safe to leave his home. It was a wonder I hadn’t gotten any blood on my suit—not that you’d be able to easily see it on the black fabric if I had.

Stalking down the street, I had never felt more elated in all my life.

I had the man of my dreams—a movie star!

I’d made Felix come before I had!

I was wearing an impeccable tuxedo.

I had already killed one man, and here I was, about to kill another!

All in all, it was a rather good day, wasn’t it? For the first time since I’d met him, Barry was about to bring me immense joy.

I caught up to him five minutes later. He was hiding behind the giant wedding cake that sat smack dab in the center of his backyard. There were at least thirty people present. It seemed that his guests had invited guests of their own.

I imagined, in any other circumstance, he’d be elated.

As it was, there was no time to be elated.

Because his hunter had found him.

“Hi, Barry,” I said cheerfully from behind him. He hadn’t seen me—I was light on my feet, kind of a necessity with a hobby like mine.

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