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

  “You’re only still moving because I didn’t hit you all that hard. I can’t risk killing you, since I want the money. This isn’t for fun.”

  The other man snorted. “You think you’re all that, Brownstone? You think you’re big shit?”

  “I know I’m bigger shit than you. You’re nothing more than a pathetic thief who thinks he’s special because he’s a living lighter.”

  “No,” King Pyro shouted, thrusting his hands into the air. “I’m the motherfucking KING of Los Angeles now. I’m a god, and I’m going to kill you to make a point to all the other people strutting around thinking they are badasses. You mess with the king,” he jerked a thumb at himself, “you burn.”

  A police cruiser screeched to a halt in the street and two cops hopped out, guns drawn, but stayed behind their doors.

  James couldn’t blame them for not rushing in. Two street cops wouldn’t last thirty seconds against a level-four bounty. An AET team was probably already on its way.

  Anti-Enhanced Threat teams might still be not all that common, but for the fortunate cities and departments that could afford them, the members had the training and the gear to handle some of the deadlier magical threats that had popped up in the last two decades.

  The clock was ticking. If James wanted his money, he needed to take down King Pyro before the AET team showed up. Otherwise he’d just be a guy who had to pay for an asshole’s door.

  James charged toward the bounty and a football-sized fireball erupted from the man’s left hand, narrowly missing the bounty hunter’s head. He closed the distance and launched a left hook, sending King Pyro stumbling back with a grunt.

  “Congrats on not getting knocked out already, asshole.” The bounty hunter shook out his hand. King Pyro was a lot stronger than he looked—and he looked pretty damn strong. Not that James was worried. He’d expected a level four to be a little challenging. It’d just make things more fun.

  “You know what I’ve figured out?” James asked, keeping his attention on the man’s hands as he circled the flame master.

  King Pyro grinned. “What, that you’re going to die screaming? That you’re going to shit yourself while you’re begging me to finish you off and end the pain?”

  “Nope. That it takes you too damn long to really get the heat going.” James sprinted forward, slamming his shoulder into his opponent’s chest and sending the criminal reeling backward.

  King Pyro threw two more fireballs as he fell. One missed James entirely, instead slamming into the door of some poor sucker’s Kia and scorching it, and the other clipped the bounty hunter’s shoulder.

  James pivoted to take cover behind a car, pulling off his leather jacket, which now sported a new hole. His skin stung a little, but his jacket and shirt seemed to have taken most of the damage. He still didn’t regret not bringing the necklace.

  I can handle this dick without that messed-up magical shit.

  “I really liked that jacket, asshole,” James ground out. “Guess I’ll have to use your bounty to buy a new one. Gonna have to dish out a little payback, though.”

  A football-sized fireball nearly winged him as it zoomed past and exploded against a nearby chain-link fence, reducing the metal to dripping molten liquid.

  James risked a glance around the corner and saw that the man had another fireball ready.

  “They told me all these stories about how badass you are,” King Pyro shouted. “But you’re just another bitch in the end, aren’t you, Brownstone? Hiding because you know you can’t handle royalty. A royal god, yeah!”

  What a fucking dipshit. I knew a guy with a nickname like that was going to be a fucking idiot.

  James resisted pulling his gun. He needed the man alive to collect the bounty, after all.

  He sprinted away from his hiding place, but not directly toward King Pyro. Two more fireballs zipped past him, exploding against the ground and sending out waves of heat. An abrupt change of direction sent him barreling toward the criminal.

  King Pyro raised his flame-covered hands. James threw a quick, low punch into the man’s stomach, then followed up with another to his mouth. The other man grunted under the blows and fell back, but he still managed to sweep out with a burning hand.

  Pain spiked from the bounty hunter’s arm. The smell of his sizzling flesh filled the air, which was just enough to distract him.

  His enemy hopped off the ground and wiped some blood from his mouth. “Bet that hurts, doesn’t it? I’ve got a lot more coming. Ever wanted to see a cremation up close and personal? Once you see it, it’s kind of a rush. Like a fucking drug, bitch. Better than heroin or dust, that’s for sure.”

  “I’ve had worse.” James shrugged. “You know, the reports all got your powers wrong.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Your real power is boring people to death with your bullshit speeches.”

  King Pyro laughed. “You don’t even get it. I’m just playing with you. You’re going to burn, Brownstone, and then you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to track down everyone you love and burn them to ash. Got a kid, Brownstone? Got a woman? They’ll die in fire screaming your name. Fuck, I’ll ash all the plants in your house just to make an example out of you.”

  Get ready to say hi to the Devil for me, asshole.

  The criminal was still laughing when James charged again. The bounty hunter’s pulse pounded in his ears as he slammed his fist into Pyro’s face again, this time at full strength. The other man soared into the air.

  James tackled him before he landed. Pyro’s entire body burst into flames, but the bounty hunter ignored the heat and stinging pain. He slammed the man’s head several times against the concrete, then hammered away with both fists. The flames died out.

  The bounty hunter barely could see the man in front of him as he continued pulverizing him. Instead, James could only see Leeroy whimpering and Alison screaming. An image of Shay lying dead, burned beyond recognition, passed through his head.

  “I’ll fucking kill you, you piece of shit,” James roared. He slammed another fist into the barely conscious criminal. “You’re dead.”

  “Brownstone, stand down,” a distant voice yelled.

  The bounty hunter stood and then slammed his foot into King Pyro, sending the man into the windshield of a truck. He growled and stomped toward the bounty.

  “Brownstone, stand down,” the voice yelled again.

  James realized it wasn’t that distant. He spun, his pulse still deafening. He was ready to kick more ass. If King Pyro had brought friends, they were going down too.

  The two street cops from before had closed on him. They didn’t have their guns out.

  In the sky, four LAPD-marked tactical drones armed with stun cannons whirred overhead, and an armored van was parked down the street.

  Six figures clad in heavy black armor rushed toward him, a couple with stun guns and the others with assault rifles. Twelve red circles glowed in the darkness from the tactical lenses of the men. The rest of their faces remained covered by their helmets. LA AET was emblazoned across their chest in huge white letters.

  James took a deep breath and stepped away from the groaning King Pyro. If the man had been normal, he’d have already been dead—which was about where the bounty hunter wanted him after the asshole’s threat.

  “I want the fucking credit. I took him down before AET showed up.” He glanced at King Pyro and the smashed window. “And I’ll pay for the window out of my bounty.”

  One of the street cops nodded, holding up his hands in a placating manner like Brownstone was some vicious dog about to attack. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call it in, Brownstone. Let AET secure him from here.”

  The bounty hunter took a single step toward King Pyro and the drones pivoted, aiming their stun cannons at him.

  “You even think about touching anyone I love,” James warned, his voice full of lethal intent, “and I will find you, no matter where you are or what fucking rock you’re hiding under. You could
run to fucking Oriceran, and I’d go there. And I’d find you and wait until you were sleeping and rip your head off and shit down your throat.”

  King Pyro could only manage a weak groan in response. Blood covered his swollen face and jaw.

  James shrugged and turned around. The AET team still had their weapons trained on him, but he wasn’t going to threaten or attack cops. They were on the same side as him, in the end.

  “I’m done here.” James spat on the ground and stomped toward his truck. “Should have brought some fucking burn cream,” he muttered.

  As Shay made her way toward the club’s exit through the still-thick crowd, a huge musclebound man sauntered toward her. His face suggested he was young; probably in his early twenties at the oldest. She ignored him and continued toward the front door.

  Captain Muscles fell in behind her, and she gritted her teeth. A few seconds later he pinched her ass.

  Shay spun around and slapped his hand. “Keep your hands to yourself, asshole.”

  Captain Muscles grinned. “Hey, babe, don’t get so upset. It’s a compliment, you know. You’re hot.” His words came out slow and slurred as he turned left, then right as he spoke. “You don’t see me touching any ugly chick’s ass.”

  Several other men rushed over. Shay tensed, but then noticed the apologetic looks on their faces.

  “You’re an idiot, Xander,” one of the new arrivals told the kid. “Remember what coach said about getting in trouble?” He turned to Shay. “I’m sorry. He’s just had one too many tonight. Please, we’ll take him and sit him down. It doesn’t have to be a big thing.”

  Shay considered if she wanted to make it a big thing or not, despite Mr. Reasonable seeming embarrassed over his friend. The size of all the men suggested athletes, as did the reference to their coach. Judging by the ages and builds, she suspected they were college football players.

  That didn’t make them dangerous, at least not to her. They were trained in a very stylized and sanitized form of violence, one with rules and restraint.

  I don’t need this shit right before heading to Mexico. Guess it’s your lucky day, asshole.

  “Whatever,” Shay muttered, and turned to leave.

  “Probably a fucking lesbian anyway,” Captain Muscles snarled. “What she needs is a serious deep dicking, so she knows what a real man feels like.”

  Shay spun on her heel. She didn’t look at Captain Muscles. Instead, she shot a murderous glare at his friends.

  They all moved to the side. They could sense the true predator in the room.

  “You’re on your own, man,” Mr. Reasonable told Xander, his hands in front of him.

  “What?” Captain Muscles sneered. “You think this little bitch is gonna do anything about it?”

  “I think she’s gonna kick your ass, and I think you have it coming.”

  A little admiration flowed through Shay for the other men. Recognizing lethal potential was a rare skill. They might have made good killers or bounty hunters.

  Captain Muscles laughed. “Just because I’m a little drunk doesn’t mean I’m scared of some little w—”

  After a loud crunch, his head snapped back. Shay’s roundhouse had been so fast it took the other men a few seconds to realize what had happened.

  Captain Muscles fell to the floor moaning, and Shay grabbed his arm and prepared to bend it backward.

  “Don’t do it!” Mr. Reasonable yelled.

  Shay narrowed her eyes. “Give me one good fucking reason.”

  “Because he’s our star quarterback, and we have a good shot this season. The rest of us shouldn’t suffer because of him.” Mr. Reasonable scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know he’s a douchebag, but you’re already taught him a lesson, right? Shit, if you want, I’ll promise to tell everyone he got beat down by a woman half his size. It’ll humiliate him, but he’ll still be able to play.”

  Shay glared at the downed football player in disgust before leaning in to speak to him. “You’re lucky Brownstone isn’t here.” She waited for a few seconds, then yanked on his arm, dislocating it.

  Captain Muscles screamed.

  “Damn!” the other players yelled in unison.

  Shay stood and dusted her hands on her pants. “You can pop it right back in. He’ll still be able to play for the rest of the season.”

  She stormed toward the exit. A bouncer walked toward her, then looked between her and the moaning football player and stepped out of the way.

  Officer Santos watched as paramedics loaded King Pyro onto a stretcher. The AET had fitted him with a stun collar, but given the state he was in, a meter maid could probably handle him.

  He went over to the stretcher and leaned over the moaning man. “You’re one lucky motherfucker, Adams.”

  King Pyro turned his head toward the officer. His battered face and swollen eyes made it hard to tell if he even knew who was talking to him. He mumbled something, but with his broken jaw it was hard to understand.

  “Brownstone is not the kind of heat you want to bring down on yourself. Ask the local Harriken. We used to have a lot of them. Now we don’t. You know why? Rumor is that they killed Brownstone’s dog to make a point, so he killed all of them to make a point back.”

  A groan escaped the wounded criminal’s mouth. It sounded like something approaching the word “family.”

  “What’s that?” Officer Santos asked. He furrowed his brow trying to figure out what the other man was getting at. “Oh no, I don’t think Brownstone has a family, really. But the guy could have a fucking Barbie doll, and I’d leave the doll alone if I wanted to keep breathing.” He shook his head and waved a hand. “Just keep this in mind, Adams—if LAPD hadn’t been here, your ass would be dead. Never say cops didn’t do something for you.”

  King Pyro moaned some more.

  12

  The world around James blurred at the edges. Buildings stood too far away or close compared to where he knew they should.

  This shit wasn’t real.

  It was fake reality; a dream, nothing more than an expression of his own mind. Even though James knew that, he still couldn’t seem to control himself. His body moved of its own accord.

  James raised the necklace over his head and slid it over his neck. Burning pain shot from the point of contact and spread. The sizzle of his flesh reached his ears and nostrils, and he clenched his teeth as the pain burrowed through his body until he could have sworn every cell was on fire.

  Something whispered in the recesses of his mind: cold, distant, inhuman, but all too familiar. He didn’t understand what it was trying to say, but there was intelligence behind the communication.

  The bounty hunter’s eyes snapped open and he jerked upright in his bed, his heart pounding. He shouldn’t care.

  It was just another damned dream.

  James scrubbed his face with his hand. Problem was, the dream was a reflection of his memories. When he wore the necklace, something whispered to him. He’d tried to ignore it, thinking he was just psyching himself out, but there was no denying that whatever was calling him to him was getting stronger. The whispers had been louder, especially this last year.

  His free ride with the necklace was coming to an end, and whatever dark magic powered it would want its due sooner rather than later.

  Could something good come from something evil? He was pretty sure that necklace was evil.

  Still, the bounty hunter was about to go to a place embroiled in a conflict that was one small step down from a civil war; a foreign country where he didn’t have the contacts and reputation he did in Los Angeles. He couldn’t be sure someone or something more powerful than him didn’t lurk in Baja California Sur waiting to tear his head off.

  James didn’t fear death, not really. He feared letting some monstrous piece of shit get away because he wasn’t strong enough; scum like King Pyro or bastards like the Harriken who were ready to torture a woman to death.

  Darkness threatened to swallow the world. Maybe his efforts were poi
ntless, only delaying the inevitable, but he wanted to at least try.

  Father McCartney had always told him that he was meant to be a force for good; a soldier serving God. James often wondered if he was some sort of demon who had been kicked out of Hell and just had his memories wiped.

  That might explain the necklace.

  Whatever its source, the power of the necklace could make sure James was the guy breathing at the end of the day. He’d handled the power for years, so maybe one more job wouldn’t be too much. He’d packed plenty of weapons, but he hadn’t grabbed the necklace from the warehouse the night before when he’d visited.

  “No.” James shook his head. “Can’t keep relying on that thing.”

  Stopping an addiction had to start somewhere, and the current job was as good a place as any. If the necklace truly was evil, then every use threatened something much more important than his life. He didn’t want to be seduced by the power and end up being the asshole murdering a family someday.

  “King Ghost,” he muttered, then snickered.

  What bullshit.

  The bounty hunter had taken down a level-four bounty without using the necklace. A few scorch marks here and there weren’t a big thing. He could handle a few arrogant sicarios in Mexico. If he stayed away from level-six bounties, he shouldn’t have much trouble.

  On top of that, Shay was supposed to have contacts that would keep him from having too much trouble with the cartel hitmen and soldiers anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to Mexico to mess with them.

  James slid out of bed, now more comfortable. It was time to clean up and head out for the airport.

  Fuck the necklace. Fuck whatever curse or demon or ghost of a top-hat-wearing ferret that lives inside it. Fuck the past.