The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Boxed Set One (Books 1-3): Feared By Hell, Rejected By Heaven, Eye For An Eye (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Boxed Sets)

by Michael Anderle

  Okay, as good as time as any to use one of the toys.

  Shay grabbed a frag grenade and pulled the pin. “It’s been a while.” She grinned as she achieved a beautiful forty-five-degree arc. Three…

  “Grenade!” one of the men screamed. Two… They all scattered. One!

  Most of the shrapnel pierced two Harriken. They’d have to join the Living Battering Ram from the other night in a mass closed-casket funeral. Two other men groaned, having taken more than a few hits themselves. They might not have been killed outright, but they were on their way to dying.

  Huh. I forgot how much fun those things could be.

  The other reinforcements hesitated, stunned by the carnage—a rookie mistake.

  Shay tossed her other frag grenade toward another group, and her incendiary at the back of a gaudy purple SUV being used for cover by some of the reinforcements. The first explosion wounded only a few men, but the second exceeded her wildest expectations.

  The explosion ripped into the SUV’s gas tank and a massive fireball erupted from the vehicle, blowing it several feet into the air and setting several men aflame. The shockwave knocked the nearby attackers to the ground.

  The burning men screamed.

  Shay took advantage of their confusion and pain to dart toward them and give them a fatal overdose of lead. Hell, some of them she was putting out of their misery. She spun on her heel, blasting the groaning and confused men on the opposite side.

  The difference between a thug and a true killer was discipline. Being able to inflict violence was easy—it was human nature—but being able to inflict violence when you were terrified and people were dying around you was a much rarer skill.

  Shay waited for more victims, scanning the sides of the chalet and looking up for more balcony snipers. Shots rang out, a mix of Brownstone’s .45 and the guards’ weapons.

  Thirty seconds passed, and no more reinforcements showed up. The enemy must have decided that wasting more lives outside was pointless. Shay spun to check on Brownstone’s status. Every other man lay dead or dying, except for one Harriken holding a shotgun.

  The wide-eyed man backed up slowly as the bounty hunter stalked toward him. He didn’t have his pistol out. Shay wondered if he intended to stare him to death.

  The criminal threw his gun up and squeezed the trigger. “Die, oni!” The shotgun jerked as it released its deadly load.

  “No!” Shay screamed as Brownstone took a load of buckshot to the chest.

  Why did you get so close, you idiot? You should have been smarter.

  She blinked. Something wasn’t right—or maybe it was more that something wasn’t wrong enough.

  Brownstone didn’t yell or scream. He didn’t jerk or fall. He just stood there with a bored looking expression on his face, like he got shot point-blank in the chest every day and it’d lost all meaning or excitement.

  The bounty hunter glanced down at his now-shredded shirt and raised a single finger, wagging it back and forth. “You fuckers keep tearing up my clothes. It’s really starting to piss me off.”

  “Kami-sama tasukete kudasai!” the Harriken screamed.

  Shay had no idea what that meant; maybe a plea for mercy or a prayer to God. It wouldn’t matter. Whoever ran the universe from beyond seemed to be favoring James Brownstone that day.

  The bounty hunter’s expression remained unchanged as he reached out and snatched the shotgun from the man. He cracked the gun over his knee like it was a twig and brained the Harriken with the sharp remains of his own weapon. The man’s blood splattered on the bounty hunter.

  “And you guys keep staining my shirts, too.”

  The man collapsed to the ground, and Brownstone wiped some of the blood off his face. He mostly succeeded in spreading it around, making him look even more sinister—like some crazed barbarian from the Dark Ages.

  Shay stared, agape. She’d seen people killed in many creative ways in her life, but Brownstone’s little display was a first.

  “Damn,” she muttered.

  Brownstone turned to look at her, and she gasped. He stared at her with vertically-slit pupils in speckled yellow and green irises, his eyes more like a cat’s than a human’s. A few seconds later his normal brown human eyes returned.

  Shay couldn’t muster up anything to say. The man standing before her went well beyond the bounty hunter who’d raided the Harriken house.

  Was he even human?

  The tomb raider finally managed to open her mouth to comment when she spotted movement from the balcony out of the corner of her eye. She fired without thought, nailing a Harriken holding a rocket launcher, and before she’d even fully turned the man fell backward, his payload blasting into the balcony’s overhang.

  A fireball bloomed from the area, its roar deafening. The explosion launched a shower of bodies and wood over the circle drive. The remains of the balcony and the room connected to it burned, smoking pouring into the sky.

  “Shit,” Shay spat. “We’re on the clock now, Brownstone—unless not needing to breathe is also on your lists of skills.”

  “Nah, still need to do that,” Brownstone admitted with a shrug. “Let’s go get her.”

  The bounty hunter reloaded his pistol with a fresh magazine and hurried to the front door. Shay ran after him, sparing a last glance at the shotgunner.

  You assholes should never have fucked with him.

  Eight SUVs sped up the dirt road leading to the chalet, each filled with men in full tactical gear and equipped with assault rifles. In a chaotic world, being a mercenary was a lucrative career choice.

  The Grayrock Company prided itself on quick, decisive victories. Taking down a single man with forty trained mercenaries would be easy, no matter how well-trained the target was.

  Their commander smiled to himself, pleased at how the job had fallen into their laps just when they were about to deploy again to some desert hellhole filled with barely-distinguishable rebel groups and angry djinn. The company hadn’t scored such an easy payday since clearing out those squatting, protesting orphan gangs outside Rio. At least with James Brownstone, they’d maybe get a little excitement. A fight wasn’t entertaining without some risk of death.

  “Fucking gangsters,” the commander said to the men in the vehicle with him. “These pussies are having trouble with one guy. Let’s show ‘em how real men get this sort of thing done.”

  Ten thousand dollars each for probably a few minutes of work. What a payday.

  Prepare to die, James Brownstone.

  19

  Ten more men waited inside the building in the foyer. They lasted less than thirty seconds, their screams echoing in the high-vaulted room.

  James took a moment to survey the bodies. “Huh, no Topknot Guy. I’m kind of disappointed.”

  Shay prodded a body with her foot. “Maybe that guy was the local leader, or the head honcho was smart enough to bail when he knew we were coming. Just because the Harriken value strength doesn’t mean the guy smart enough to run things is going to stay there and wait for a living tank to show up and kill him.”

  The bounty hunter grunted. “So I might still have shit to deal with in the future?”

  “Brownstone, we’ve killed a lot of people today, and you killed a lot of people the other day. I think the Harriken have gotten the point by now, and if they haven’t, well, they don’t have anybody left. They’ll probably start sending you a fruit basket on your birthday.”

  The acrid smell of smoke from upstairs filled James’ nostrils. “We’ve got to get moving. I’ll take point.”

  He was out of .45 mags at this point, so he pulled out a 9mm. Shay had also run out of ammo for her Steyr, so she readied a pistol.

  The smell of smoke grew stronger. Belmont House would die in flames, and something about that idea soothed James. He wasn’t sure what pissed him off more about the Harriken: their basic thuggery or their arrogance.

  They’d had many chances to deescalate the situation, but they chose to create more trouble
each time. Belmont House’s burnt ruins would be a monument to their idiocy.

  James hurried down the hallway. They couldn’t spend too much time fooling around now that the house was on fire, even if it remained contained to the top floor for the moment.

  A minute of searching revealed the basement door. No other enemies confronted them, making James wonder if they had successfully killed everyone in the building. The thought disappointed him.

  Unlike at the house in the city, this door wasn’t even locked or reinforced. It’d become obvious that the Harriken hadn’t believed—until the attack on the house—that anyone would dare besiege them in this remote location. A little less arrogance might have saved at least some of their lives.

  James nodded to Shay, raising his gun. “Three...two...one!” He threw open the door. No brave enforcer stood on the stairs ready to gun them down or stab them.

  The pair rushed down the stairs. The stench of blood hung heavy in the air.

  Unlike the storage room at the Harriken house, the Belmont House basement appeared to have once been some sort of torture room. A single table and carts filled with bloodied blades, screws, and pins filled the center of the room. One cart even held a few lead-acid batteries with thick alligator clamps. It was everything a sick-ass psychopath might need.

  The elaborate twisted-metal light fixture hanging overhead lacked light bulbs, leaving a dim standing lamp in the corner the only source of light.

  An ebony-skinned woman with long bright-white hair lay on the table, her hands and feet secured by ropes. She wore only a torn dull-green hospital gown. Jagged lacerations, bloodstains, burns, and abrasions covered her body, arms, legs, and face. The fingers on one of her hands were bent at extreme angles. There was some sort of metal sheet around her chest.

  James’ stomach tightened. Killing someone in a fight was one thing.

  Torture was another.

  He let out a low growl, wishing God would restore the men outside to life so he could kill them again.

  “Nicole Anderson?” James asked, slightly confused. He could see a facial resemblance between Alison and the woman on the table, but she was as dark as night, unlike her daughter.

  The woman slowly turned her head. “So much screaming. You killed them all, I hope?”

  “Yeah, we killed them all. Some of them may take a while to die, though.”

  “Good. Why? Are you here for what they sought?” Nicole stared at him, her expression weary.

  “I’m here because a girl needs her mother.” James pulled out a knife. “I helped your daughter out the other day.” He sliced one of the ropes. “Because she helped me with my dog. The Harriken tried to take her, and I made them pay for that. Things escalated from there.” He made short work of the other ropes and the metal they had her wrapped in. Magical suppression, maybe? “And so now a lot more Harriken are dead. Things just got...complicated.”

  “Is Alison safe?” Nicole weakly pushed herself into a sitting position. “My husband sold me out, and I know he was targeting her too.” She sighed and took a deep breath. “I hoped that his twisted mind might at least show some mercy toward his own daughter.”

  “Alison’s safe. We’ve got her stashed somewhere the Harriken can’t find her.” James rubbed his chin. “And I had a discussion with Walt about proper respect for his wife and child. It ended with a broken jaw, and a warning from me that he’d better get the fuck out of town or he would be dead.”

  Nicole nodded slowly, a pleased look on her face. “He loved me once, I think, but still… What he’s done is unforgiveable. Please promise me you’ll kill him should you get the chance?”

  “I gave him my warning. Especially after seeing this shit,” he nodded at her, “if I see him again, he’s dead.”

  “You have no idea how that quiets my soul.” Nicole groaned. Her damaged hand glowed for a second, and the fingers moved back into their proper position. Several of her wounds sealed themselves.

  Shay kept her attention on the stairwell and her gun up. “I don’t get it. What’s worth all this bullshit? Can you see souls like your daughter? Did they want to use you as a lie detector or something?”

  James shrugged. “Does it fucking matter? We can do the Q and A later. This place is on fire, remember? Let’s just get her the hell out of here.”

  Nicole stared at James, not saying a word. He shifted under her gaze, uncomfortable. She coughed some blood into her hand.

  “Shit.” The bounty hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out the healing potion. “This is magic. It’ll help you.” He held it out. “Best potions witch in Los Angeles made it.”

  Nicole wrapped her hand around his and closed his fingers. “Was this potion made for you?”

  “Yeah, whatever. You can pay me back later. You’re not gonna make it otherwise.”

  “You don’t understand. It won’t work. If anything, it’ll probably make things worse.”

  James winced, remembering all the trouble Zoe’d had getting one to work on him. That was one of the reasons he hated magic so much. It promised easy solutions to complicated problems, but in the end you could never rely on it when you needed it. Everything just ended up more complicated than before.

  James scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to think of what they could do.

  “What’s your name?” Nicole asked quietly.

  “James Brownstone.”

  She smiled at him, looking him in his eyes, Her Oriceran face was otherworldly. “Thank you, James Brownstone, for all that you have done to aid my daughter. I can die now, secure in the knowledge that she’s safe, but there is something you should know.”

  Shay called over her shoulder, “Like my friend said, the house is on fire.”

  Nicole smiled sadly. “I’ll be dead soon anyway. You need to understand what I’m going to tell you.”

  James shook his head. “What the fuck is going on?” He looked at Shay before turning back to Nicole.

  “My legacy is a wish,” Nicole said softly. “I ran from my family responsibilities and duties on Oriceran, but it did not change the truth that those in my line are bequeathed a wish.”

  “A wish?” Shay turned around, surprised. “You mean...like an actual ‘I wish I were rich’ kind of wish?”

  James glanced at Shay, then back to Nicole once more.

  “Something like that. Magic is more powerful and wild than you humans understand.” The dark woman leaned forward, her long white hair covering her face. “I wanted to come here and live a simpler life, so I used my magic to disguise myself, took a human husband, and bore a half-human child. But with the truth of Oriceran coming out and my heritage becoming more obvious with the flow of magic each year, my husband figured out the truth. That was fine, since I’d always wanted to tell him anyway, but then I made my true mistake.”

  “Your true mistake?” James said.

  Nicole nodded. “I told him everything, including that I had a wish and was saving it for our daughter. Foolish me, I thought he’d understand.” She inhaled. “I can give the wish to another, but it has to be done willingly. I refused Walt’s request. I knew he would not use it well, but I never suspected he’d partner with such scum to betray me.”

  She gestured to the table. “They tortured me to try and force me to give them the wish, but I am two hundred and twelve years old, and I am a princess of an ancient and dangerous line. These maggots could not have broken my will if they’d had another century to do so. I was prepared to die to deny them what they’d steal from my child, despite the pain.”

  James stared at the woman, processing everything Nicole explained. This whole thing had started with him looking for Leeroy. Finding some centuries-old Oriceran princess was about the last thing he’d expected to come out of that.

  So much for KISS.

  “Damn it,” Shay muttered. “I’m hearing movement upstairs, Brownstone. We need to move now.”

  Nicole slid off the table and slowly made her way toward the stairs, passing Ja
mes.

  James grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” He leaned over. “You stay here. We’ll deal with the assholes upstairs, then we’ll figure something out. I may not know much about healing and magic and shit, but I solve problems.” He jerked a thumb upwards. “These types of problems.”

  Nicole shook her head and smiled grimly. “It’s too late for me. Too much of my magic has been expended trying to save my life.”

  “Can’t we take you to some Oriceran healer to help you?”

  She shook her head. “No. To keep myself alive, I’ve been feeding off my own life force. All things have a cost. At this point I’m only delaying the inevitable, but I have enough magic left for one important task.”

  “What’s that?”

  Nicole’s expression and eyes hardened, and he could see the demons that her kind probably played with as kids behind her visage. “Vengeance.”

  James released her arm. If there was one motivation he understood, it was vengeance. “We’ve killed two housefuls of Harriken already.”

  “Do you think my vengeance too much, human? I would destroy these men over and over if I had the ability.”

  Shay snorted. “Brownstone killed dozens of people for murdering his dog. Trust me, he’s not judging you…and I’ve got my own past.”

  Nicole’s eyes glinted in satisfaction. “Then you understand what I must do, and why I must do it.”

  James nodded. “I just wanted you to know that no matter what happens, they’ve already felt pain. And I hope they feel more.” He glanced at Shay. “We’ll back you up. These fuckers will kill us anyway, and I don’t mind going after a few more after what I just saw.”

  “No. I may not be able to fully control myself when I do what I must do. You have killed my enemies and saved my daughter. I’d not wish to kill you by accident.”

  Shay stepped away from the stairs after James reluctantly nodded.

  Nicole padded toward the stairs, something elegant and lethal in her movements. “These men will learn why you do not earn the wrath of a princess of the Drow.”