Psychic Series Boxset: Books 1-3

by Lisa Freed

“That is where you’re wrong,” the man came closer, his dark eyes staring hard at Victor. “Brianna, she is aware of the situation. Has planned for something like this for a long time. Adrian is out of the will. If she and Andre die, you get nothing.”

  Victor frowned. “Wills can be contested.”

  “Not when the son is already dead or proven to be unfit.”

  “Brianna would never…”

  Victor was cut off. “No, but Andre would. You underestimate your brother. And Brianna. She knew you were back and that they were not rid of you. My predecessor let her in on your ghostly doings. And now I’m doing the same and tracking your human activities as well.”

  Victor shook his head, unable to process all this stranger was saying to him. “No, my brother would never do that to his own son.”

  “His own son. But you’re not his son. To him, his son is already dead.”

  “And you would go up against him?” Victor questioned.

  “For that amount of money? Absolutely. Besides, I have Brianna on my side and my own unique talents.” The man smirked, his face cruel and deadly serious.

  Victor wished he had picked up a gun before coming to Teresa’s house. Things had not gone as he had planned. “And I’m to trust you?” he asked, his arms ready at his sides for a sudden movement from the man in front of him that knew far more than Victor had realized.

  “No, I know you won’t. I don’t trust you either. But we can work together and get everything we are owed.”

  The bitterness and greed in the other man’s voice convinced Victor. He smiled. “I don’t work with people whose names I do not know.”

  The other man grinned and held out his hand.

  Victor felt his hand clenched hard and a tingle spread up his arm.

  “My name is Mateo.”

  Psychic

  Falling

  Copyright © 2019 by Lisa Freed

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental or by permission. Thanks Aunt T!

  DEDICATION

  Thanks to my wonderful Aunt Teresa, who continues to be a source of inspiration. So happy you’re in my life!

  A huge thank you to the readers who have been wondering and waiting for the next psychic book. More are coming! I promise!

  To my fab Editor E who puts up with all my shifty tenses and nervous texts.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I had been home for two weeks from my adventure in Greece and I think I was settling back in very nicely. Sure, my best friend since tenth grade, John, was pissed at me. Thinking, wrongly, I might add, that I was trying to get back together with my surly neighbor and ex-boyfriend Lance. Considering John had walked in on us about to lock lips in my kitchen after I had just told him that Lance and I were not an item, well, I can kinda see where he could have gotten the wrong idea.

  And Lance was apparently upset at me as well. He had it in his head that not only was I a juvenile twenty-four-year-old, that might be true but still, ouch! But also, that somehow, I might have had something to do with him ending up in Greece, drunk as a skunk, lost, stumbling around without a phone, wallet, or passport. He might have a valid point there. But again, there was no way for him to know that!

  It wasn’t really my fault that my best spirit buddy, Victor, had taken over Lance’s body to settle some unfinished business with his brother and ex-girlfriend, now his brother’s wife. Confusing, I know! Try living it! And I did dash off to save Lance, surely that counted for something. But nope, a thanks and some rather condescending remarks and Lance walked out of my life.

  Not that I wanted him to stay. Yes, I might have fancied myself in love with him a time or two. Honestly, I have wondered for years if I’m in love with Victor. Which brings me to Mateo, a fellow psychic that I met in Greece, who helped me with the whole tricky Victor/Lance situation as I am now calling it. My time with him was so short but I felt a connection. Was it possible to love vastly different men and not just be confused? Did I even know what love was or did I just try to label mere attraction as the real deal?

  Blah! Well, these invoices weren’t going to organize and enter themselves, better to stop trying to sort my life and deal with real issues. Whisker Kisses wasn’t going to run itself either.

  Whisker Kisses was a twenty-five hundred square foot house in Rehoboth, Delaware that was home to my dream, a cat rescue where cats found homes or we were their homes. We housed anywhere from twenty to fifty cats at a time. A few were long-term residents that occupied the bottom floor. They were pretty much free to roam the entire building, but they seemed to prefer the lower level for sleeping and lounging. The huge bay windows had a lot to do with that and more often than not several cats were stretched out in the sun in front of one in the large main room that would have traditionally been the living room.

  Manny, our resident orange cat who weighed an eye-popping twenty-eight pounds and was a lap cat whether you wanted him there or not, strolled on by, his fluffy tail held high. He had been brought directly to us when he was found looting the trashcans behind the steak joint on the highway. Highly matted, he smelled dreadful from a combination of trashcan living, decayed teeth, and less than stellar grooming habits. Now a gorgeous orange fluff ball, he was a love machine whose size and shedding deterred interested families. He had a forever home at Whisker Kisses, but I still remained positive that the right person just hadn't seen Manny yet.

  Desperate for a cuddle, and to escape the mind-numbing invoices, I got up from behind the front desk and went after him. The steady, noisy crunch of dry food led me right to the kitchen feeding station. I had to settle for running my fingers through his long, buttery soft ginger fur while he plowed his way through one of the dishes of food. We had a group of four hard plastic bowls on a large blue floor mat. Good thing too because a few of the cats liked to grab a big mouthful of food and then dump it on the floor next to the bowl to eat it. All the crumbs got snatched up by the handheld bright yellow and grey dust buster that hung on the wall near the pantry door.

  Seeing that Manny would be munching for a while, I decided to check on the new bunch upstairs. I was joined by the ghost of Old Zeke and that seriously made my morning. Zeke had been the oldest cat in residence at Whisker Kisses at twenty-two, hence the name Old Zeke, and had died of old age while I was off in Greece. My heart still hurt that I wasn’t here when he passed, but he didn’t hold that against me as his ghostly presence weaved around my legs purring as I navigated the stairs.

  To anyone watching it would probably look like I was doing some weird new dance challenge, so it was a good thing it was just Parker and I here right now and she was off doing litterbox detail.

  Or so I thought.

  On the second-floor landing, I turned right and spied her tall, lanky form doubled over in laughter.

  “Oh, T, what were you doing?” she gasped out, still holding her middle with both arms as she straightened up. Her blue eyes shone with tears that dribbled onto her pale cheeks as she burst into another round of snorts and giggles.

  Trying not to trip over a ghost cat, I wanted to reply but, nope, I had to smile and mumble the first lame thought that came into my head. “My underwear was really riding up.”

  Oh, snap! I think my face colored even more than Parker’s!

  “Anyway, how are the little darlings?” I asked trying to forget about this whole embarrassing encounter.

  Parker bit her lip and looked away for a few sec
onds before falling in step with me as I walked to the first bedroom. This room was where we housed all our new arrivals. Sadly, they were in cages, but it was for all our other resident cats’ safety that we did so. Most of the cats here had come from shelters and other stretched-to-the-limit rescues. There was always the threat of upper respiratory infections or worms, yuck. They were quarantined here until they were given a clean bill of health and then moved to the second bedroom where they could roam and enjoy the countless perches, cat beds, and wall ramps.

  “They are doing great! Ashley’s coming by later to collect the stool samples.” Parker held up several bright red baggies that she had in her left hand. “I think she also just wants to pet them. Look at all that yummy fluffy fur!”

  Ashley was our fabulous veterinarian who volunteered her services despite my many protests. She also happened to be model gorgeous but I didn’t hold that against her. As for resisting the fur, nobody could.

  I reached a finger into a cage to rub black toe beans peeking out of loads of toe fluff. “These babies really are fluffy!” My voice rose slightly with glee.

  “Right?” Parker said with a smile, her own fingers at work on the head of a sweet girl who was pressing against the cage’s metal bars for all she was worth to get some love. “I still can’t believe people would hurt these cats just because they are black.”

  “I know, a lot of idiots out there,” I commented trying to keep my tone light though anger filled me. Every shelter and rescue was on high alert this month when it came to black cats. All thanks to losers thinking they were bad luck or wanting to sacrifice them to whatever dark forces they believed were out there. I wanted to stuff a lot of those very real monsters into the nearest black hole. It would serve them right. Black cats weren’t any different than a tabby or orange cat. Well, other than most black cats being simply stunning. After all, who didn’t look good in black?

  My musings were interrupted by Parker’s quiet, little voice.

  “I have a confession to make, T.”

  Parker, a super sweet and shy volunteer, who rarely shared much about her personal life, actually opening up to me was awesome, so I bit my lip and let her talk. Though I already had a hunch what deep secret she was about to confess and I wanted to hoot in celebration.

  “I plan to fill out the adoption application for Mandy here,” Parker said, her eyes never leaving the friendly three-year-old.

  “Girl, please! Like you need to fill out an application. I think anyone here could vouch for you, including me. Once Ashley clears her, take her with my blessing and a bag of cat litter.”

  “No, I want to pay her adoption fee, it’s only right.” The girl’s slim shoulders straightened.

  “Hey, if you want that’s fine too.” I came closer to Mandy’s cage and stuck a finger in for her to sniff. She responded by rubbing her face along it. “You are getting a great girl, Parker.”

  “I know.” Her eyes shifted from Mandy to me then back to the cat. Her words were directed to Mandy but obviously for me. “I find going commando takes care of the ride-up issues.”

  I laughed like a loon. This was probably the first real laugh I’ve had since returning from Greece and it felt great!

  Even better Parker joined me, so I didn’t feel totally off my rocker. When I finally reigned myself in, I smiled at the slightly younger girl and gave her my heartfelt thanks. “I really needed that.”

  Clear and bright blue eyes met mine. “They say laughter is the best medicine and it seems true,” she paused, withdrawing her hand from Mandy’s cage, much to the cat’s displeasure as she cried out in little chirpy meows for more attention. “You never said much but things didn’t go so well in Greece?”

  A tired smile pulled at my face. “Actually, things went about as well as expected. Lance and I just are two separate people in two different places in our lives right now.”

  Parker’s head moved slowly up and down, though her words surprised me. “That’s a shame, you two seemed good for each other. Balancing each other out. That’s important in relationships.”

  “But wouldn’t things go better if people were more alike than different?” I couldn’t help but think about Mateo and how much easier life with a fellow psychic would be.

  “Well sure, but it depends on the people. I don’t know about you, but as much as I like being me, having a guy just like me would be annoying. I need someone to pull me out of my safety zone and challenge me. It’s how you grow.”

  That made sense, I guess. Did I want to grow? I thought I had already figured out me. Though the last few weeks were telling me otherwise.

  “Thanks, Parker.”

  “Anytime, T. I know we don’t talk a lot…” she paused and a bright pink blush burned at her pale cheeks. “Okay, I don’t talk a lot,” Parker amended, “but I want you to count me as a friend you feel safe talking to.”

  My nose started burning, a sure sign tears were on their way. I sniffed sharply and gave Parker a quick, tight hug. She stiffened slightly before her long, thin arms wrapped around me and hugged me back.

  Calmness and serenity flowed through me via Parker. Along with the scent of lemon. It came as a shock to realize this had nothing to do with being a psychic and sensitive to things, it was simple acceptance and friendship. Things I had been lacking.

  CHAPTER TWO

  My happy mood didn’t last very long. I woke up the next morning feeling cranky and out of sorts. All was not right with my world but I didn’t know how to set things right or even what right was.

  A glance in the bathroom mirror told me I might want to start with myself. Though I had made the time to get a haircut recently, my dark roots were showing horribly. Making faces at myself didn’t help. I didn’t let that didn’t stop me and I did crack a smile.

  A quick trip back through my bedroom to grab my phone and I had my fingers literally crossed that Lotte, my hair stylist and one of the few people I called friend, would be able to fit me in this week.

  Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good and not only could Lotte fit me in this week, but she could take me later today for a color. Woohoo! The client that canceled on her got called into work. Sorry about their luck, but a definite win for me.

  Tossing my hair up into a messy bun, I took my phone and went down for breakfast. Munching on a bowl of Lucky Charms, they seemed only fitting, I scrolled through Instagram, liking all the adorable cat photos and videos.

  It had been lurking in the back of my head, creeping forward briefly yesterday, but for some reason, the loneliness of my life suddenly jumped up and whacked me. My spoon dropped into my bowl, the metallic twang sounding magnified in the silent kitchen.

  Counting a ghost, I had like four friends. And John wasn’t speaking to me, and Victor was off who-knows-where. So, I had two friends, one of which we never did anything outside of work together. Depressing.

  What was wrong with me? Was I that antisocial or just too afraid to open myself up to others? Only my sister Megan and friend John knew I was a psychic, and a millionaire. Did I isolate myself because I felt I couldn’t be fully open with anyone? Or simply because I didn’t trust others?

  John had been surprised that I hadn’t let Lance in on my secret. Now, I’m glad I didn’t, but maybe that was part of what doomed our relationship?

  Blah, all these mental hoops weren’t getting me any happier or closer to answers. If anything, I was more annoyed than I had been. But annoyed was better than depressed, I thought as I dumped the last of my cereal in the sink before putting my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.

  On my way back upstairs to shower, I finally caught sight of Daisy, one of my cow cats, as I called her, and her brother, Maverick. She paused midlick of a paw to regard me for a few seconds with unblinking yellow eyes before resuming her grooming. It takes a strong person to love a cat who views you as their meal ticket and occasional springboard to better and softer things.

  As the hot water in the shower pelted my skin, most of my t
ension eased away. I was twenty-four years old, in decent health, with a job I loved and a house in a beach town. What business did I have being miserable? Zip! Time to put on my big girl panties and get my head back on straight.

  Or forgo the underwear altogether, as Parker suggested. I cracked up all over again just thinking about mild, quiet Parker voicing such a thing. Even funnier, I usually went commando anyway, it was more comfortable but I hadn’t been about to share that with her. Yet. If she truly did want to be my friend, I’m sure the topic would come up again and we could both have a good giggle over it.

  Over the noise of the flowing water from the dual showerheads, I made out the opening notes of the theme from the movie The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. My phone!

  About to open the shower’s steamed up glass door, I paused. Conditioner held my hair in an upswept style and one leg was foamed white with shaving cream. No matter who it was, I could call them back.

  The entire time I shaved I pondered who it could be. I volleyed between wanting it to be John so we could put this silly spat behind us and Mateo, just because I would love to hear from him again.

  There were confirmed rumors of a new Jay and Silent Bob movie. John and I were huge Kevin Smith fans and such news needed to be celebrated with a movie marathon while we gorged ourselves on takeout. A perfect way for two friends to reconnect.

  But Mateo was so cute even with his silly pompadour of hair. There was just something about how his deep brown eyes looked at me that made me feel all shivery inside.

  With a big peach colored towel wrapped around my body and a matching one coiled like a turban around my silky, freshly conditioned hair, I snatched at my phone that I had left on the vanity. It was my sister Megan. For a brief moment, some disappointment welled up in me that was squashed down. I hadn’t heard from her in some time. Partially my fault, as I was a huge coward.