Okay, next time I bring a rifle or two. Just in case. Or a rocket launcher. That might be fun, if a bit messy.
A good shot through their engine blocks would disable the vehicles, at least robbing his enemies of their mobility.
Assuming they were enemies.
James would gladly defend himself, but he didn’t want to kill a bunch of men if there’d been some sort of mistake and they’d not come expressly to take him and/or Shay out. Especially if he wasn’t going to make any money off it.
He sighed as he watched the vehicles through his binoculars. The number of weapons didn’t automatically translate into the men being criminals or killers.
Many militias, large and small, had popped up in Mexico to help deal with both the scourge of the cartels and the chaos of magic-enhanced criminals.
For all his mouthing off to Shay, James understood the importance of not pissing off people without reason.
He looked around, chewing on his thoughts a moment. He needed to get the men in a position where he could question them without any of them throwing too much lead at him or blowing him up.
Otherwise, he risked fucking up things in this area for himself or Shay in the future.
James grunted. A little thinking had drained a lot of the fun out of the fight, but he could still make the encounter interesting. It was time for something that wasn’t really his style: stealth.
Time to be a creeper.
The bounty hunter sprinted away from the outcropping hiding the Forerunner. He didn’t worry about the men eventually discovering the vehicle; he just didn’t want them to blow it to pieces right away. Once he engaged the men, he figured he would keep them busy enough.
Dozens of large rocks dotted the area, along with many other outcroppings along the canyon wall. Perfect cover. If he was smart about tactics, he would be able to close on the enemy without getting a rocket-propelled grenade in his teeth for the trouble.
Man, kicking in front doors was so much more fun than this.
James snickered, wondering what Shay was up to inside the cave. She was probably taking a leisurely stroll and having a relaxing time, while he was preparing to fight off more than a dozen men.
Afterward she would come out and take him to task for not being civilized or something. Worse yet, not dressing appropriately for a firefight. He was surprised she hadn’t given him shit for his nails.
The two trucks continued to rumble along the dirt trail. They were now close enough that he could make them out without his binoculars. He rushed between two rocks, ducking behind a large one, and waited for a chance to move again.
A series of protruding stones in the nearby canyon wall formed natural handholds. James looked between the canyon wall and the approaching vehicles. If the men were looking straight ahead and not paying much attention to the sides of the canyon, he could climb up and gain the advantage of high ground. But if he were wrong, it’d leave him vulnerable—and he might get a few bullets for his trouble.
Bullets fucking sucked.
Time was running out, so he needed to make his play and be quick about it. The men might have scoped him out already with their own binoculars or drones.
James surveyed the sky, but didn’t spot any drones. They could have been using something smaller and harder to see, but if they were willing to go through that kind of trouble, it didn’t seem likely they’d barrel straight down on him in two obvious trucks versus coming in from the air on a helicopter or VTOL craft.
No. These men might have a lot of guns, but they reeked of local disposable muscle, not highly-trained operatives or mercenaries. The only reason the encounter might prove difficult at all was that James didn’t want to kill anyone if it wasn’t necessary.
He grinned.
Yeah, I think I’ll bet on the stupidity of a bunch of local thugs. They think they have the upper hand, but what they don’t know will help me.
James jumped to the lowest handhold and then grabbed the next. The man scurried up the side of the canyon like some Oriceran-enhanced goat before finding a nice flat rock outcropping. With a final heave, he pulled himself over the edge and flattened himself on his stomach.
Everyone thought skinny guys were the better rock climbers. It helped, sure—less weight. However, sheer strength in one’s hands and arms helped overcome some of the height and weight challenges.
Staging an ambush still didn’t sit all that well with James, but he reminded himself that his goal was to kill the enemy’s vehicles, not the men. If it came down to taking out all the men, they’d at least know it was coming. Right now he didn’t have many other options.
The bounty hunter pulled out his .45 and popped out the magazine. He replaced it with another filled with armor-piercing rounds. Sometimes it paid to be prepared. After slipping the first magazine back into a pouch, he rolled onto his stomach and readied his weapon. The trucks would be passing beneath him soon.
To ensure he took out the engine blocks, he’d have to wait until they were damn near straight under him. He was a good shot, but these vehicles were moving, and he was using a pistol from an odd angle above them.
He smiled. Just made it a bit fairer.
It was almost time: less than thirty seconds until they passed under him, by his estimate. The sun beat down, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He wondered how snipers didn’t get bored holding position.
Twenty seconds.
The sweat now tickled the back of his neck. Seriously, how did those fuckers sit still for days?
Of course, if the men were there to kill him, this whole thing would get very messy very quickly.
Ten seconds.
Bad day to be you guys. I hope whoever sent you my way at least gave you some fucking clue who you’re dealing with.
The trucks passed right underneath the ledge. The men were looking in every direction except up. Big mistake.
James aimed for a few seconds, then squeezed off three quick rounds into the front of the first truck. The loud report echoed throughout the narrow canyon as the truck screeched to a halt, smoke pouring from the engine. Men shouted in Spanish, their heads darting around as they tried to find their enemy.
Several men complicated their search by firing.
Thank you! he thought. I appreciate your support.
Their gunshots layered over the echo from James’ weapon, leaving the men clueless about his location.
Concentrating, the bounty hunter fired three rounds into the other truck’s engine. His minutes of preparation were over in seconds. The second truck also stopped, thick black smoke pouring from its engine into the blue sky.
Gunfire and Spanish expletives filled the canyon now, but still no one had fired upward. James took his chance and leapt off his ledge, grabbing handholds on the way down and swinging to the ground. He landed with a grunt and a forward roll, then rushed toward a dense patch of large rocks.
One of the men shouted and squeezed off a few rounds at him, but in the chaos no one paid him much attention. Now on the ground with plenty of cover and the enemy’s mobility advantage destroyed, James held all the cards.
“Who are you?” James bellowed in heavily-gringo-accented Spanish, and immediately sprinted for another position. Between the men’s shouting and the echoes, he was fairly certain they wouldn’t zero in on him.
Instead, the dumbasses kept firing random rounds as if they thought they might just get lucky and hit him. The man who’d spotted him earlier was still busy shooting at his old position. A damned ricochet was his biggest risk right now.
“Soy El Granito Diablo Espiritu,” James shouted. “You listen,” he continued in his broken Spanish. “You not die.”
His deep voice echoed around the canyon, and it was like the rock itself was speaking. Still, it would have been nice if the rock didn’t sound like a drunken five-year-old.
He sighed. This was damned embarrassing. Half of being successful in a dangerous situation was talking trash and intimidation, and he couldn’t speak
Spanish worth a shit.
Sure, he could understand it well enough. His memory, combined with a little study, had helped him with that, but having a great memory didn’t automatically translate into verbal ability without practice.
“Need to work on that shit,” James mumbled. “Especially if I’m gonna keep traveling south of the border.”
The men had managed to stop shooting and shouting at this point. They’d all piled out of their trucks and crouched at the sides of the vehicles.
The bounty hunter chuckled. He understood their instincts. The vehicles at least provided cover, but if he were using any sort of rocket launcher or RPG launcher, he would have made short work of them.
It was their lucky day.
“Who are you?” James shouted in Spanish. He had confidence in that phrase, at least. Well, that, and “Please tell me where the bathroom is,” along with, “I’d like a beer, please.” James only barely resisted shouting that he would like a cerveza.
The men murmured quietly amongst themselves, but he couldn’t make their words out at this distance.
He’d give the men credit for not blindly charging forward. Even though he was hoping to salvage the situation without killing a bunch of them, they didn’t know that. It would have been gloriously brave—if stupid—to charge forward blazing away.
Their caution helped with the bounty hunter’s plan. If the men feared for their lives, he might be able to convince them to stand down.
James surveyed the area again, taking note of the exact path he’d have to take to close on them while still maintaining cover. Once he reached ass-kicking range, he could finish this with only a few broken bones.
He cracked his knuckles. It was time for him to move.
Shay’s heart thundered as she made her way back through the cave. She skidded to a halt at the sight of skeletons, her eyes flashing open.
“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking traps.” She sighed and reactivated the filters on her goggles. Rushing out of the cave without being careful would end with her dead and James wondering just how stupid she was.
The field archaeologist took careful technology-aided steps back toward the entrance to the cave, fear creeping into her heart. The initial burst of gunfire had been replaced by stony silence.
Her stomach tightened. Brownstone could already be dead or bleeding out. From what she’d seen he wasn’t wearing his creepy necklace, which meant he probably wasn’t bulletproof this time. That necklace was the only way she could explain how he’d taken a load of buckshot to the chest and not even flinched. She was still afraid to ask him about it.
She took careful step after careful step. The illumination from the sunlight grew brighter as Shay’s mind raced.
They were in the middle of fucking nowhere, and they only had basic first-aid supplies. There was no way she could save Brownstone’s life if he’d been seriously injured.
“Damn it, Brownstone,” the woman muttered. “If you’re dead, I’ll travel to the afterlife and fucking kill you again for being such a monumental dumbass.”
Shay finally cleared the cave, and she pushed up her goggles. She darted forward, gun in hand, to deliver some sweet, sweet vengeance.
Except, she had no reason to shoot.
She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight. She couldn’t believe what she saw in front of her. She’d been expecting a dying bounty hunter, but instead there were more than a dozen men kneeling on the ground, their fingers laced behind their heads and their faces pale from fear.
The men murmured quietly to themselves in Spanish about the Granite Devil-Ghost.
Brownstone stood next to a man with the most magnificent mustache Shay’d ever seen outside of an Old West saloon, gesticulating wildly to his phone.
“What the fuck?” Shay muttered. She kept her gun up as her gaze cut between the kneeling men and Brownstone and the other man.
“Me hunt death man,” Brownstone was saying in mangled Spanish.
The tomb raider winced. Brownstone’s Spanish sucked worse than his fashion sense.
The other man shook his head and responded in Spanish. “You don’t want to go after this man, Granite Devil. He is a god of death. Even Santa Muerte might bend her knee to Sombra.”
“This man monster,” James was pointing at the phone, then jerked a finger to himself. “I stop. Save people.”
Shay groaned and stomped forward, holstering her weapon. “Jesus, Brownstone. You’re fucking killing me with your toddler Spanish!”
The two men looked at her, and Brownstone’s conversation partner paled.
He crossed himself. “Santa Muerte, I’m sorry. I did not know Brownstone was your servant.”
She stared at him for a second, wondering what the fuck was going through the man’s head, then chuckled. She could only imagine what she looked like. She was covered in dust and scratches, her weird goggles were sticking out from her head, and the Green Dragon Crescent Blade was strapped to her back.
“I’m not Santa Muerte,” Shay told him in Spanish. She nodded toward Brownstone. “I’m with him.”
He looked back at Brownstone, then returned his attention to Shay. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better,” the man admitted.
Brownstone tapped his phone, then looked at Shay. “I just want him to confirm the area where the fucking necromancer is.”
Shay relayed the comment in perfect Spanish.
The other man sighed and shook his head. He pointed to a spot on the map displayed on Brownstone’s phone and looked at Brownstone. “Sombra kills by touch, then violates the dead by making them walk. Even you can’t win.”
“Motherfucking zombies,” Shay muttered, putting her hand on her pistol.
Brownstone nodded to the man. “Thanks,” he offered, this time in English. He waved toward the Forerunner. “I see you got what you needed, so let’s get going.”
Shay gestured to the gathered men. “And what about these guys? You gonna let them live?”
He turned to the man next to him. “Yeah. They understand the error of their ways now.” Brownstone slapped his conversation partner on the shoulder, and the man winced. “Carlos here has a satellite phone. He’ll call for a pick up, but we’ll be long gone.”
Shay cocked her head. “Who the hell are these guys?”
“Local militia,” Brownstone replied. “Apparently they thought we were drug runners.” He grinned. “Mistakes happen.”
Shay shook her head as she waved a hand at the men and headed towards the Forerunner. “It’s always fun with you, Brownstone.”
17
“That’s fucking stupid, Brownstone,” Shay said a few minutes later as they drove away from the cave. “Really stupid. Think it through at least once.”
“It’s not stupid. It makes sense. We’re close to the necromancer. It’s not a big detour.”
“Ok, think it through…twice.”
“I have. What’s your problem again? Before you didn’t seem to mind the idea.”
Shay grimaced. “Before I didn’t have a magical ancient Chinese weapon in my vehicle.” Shay snorted. “I thought I was just going to get a map or clues to somewhere else, but now I’ve got the damn thing and I don’t want to lose it.”
Brownstone laughed, waving a hand at the cacti they were passing. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I’m saying we should go to necromancer territory. It’s not like some kid’s gonna come and steal it from a parking lot. It’ll probably be safer sitting with you than it’d be back in Cabo.”
“You don’t know that,” Shay said. “I would have thought those caves would be safe. Well, the outside at least. Did you expect two truckloads of guys with guns to show up?”
The bounty hunter shrugged. “Kind of.”
Shay blinked and glanced over at him. “’Kind of?’”
“Look, trouble follows me around. Maybe I didn’t expect those exact guys, but I did kind of wonder if someone might show up. Shit, for all I know, the Brujos Rojos might have guys
keeping an eye out for me throughout Latin America.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a big ego, Brownstone?”
“Yeah, you’ve told me that several times.”
“Massive ego?” she clarified.
“Yeah, still you, many times,” he retorted.
The rough terrain made the Forerunner shake and Shay eased off the gas.
“You don’t know if you’ll be able to find this guy quickly,” she argued, “and do you really want to take him on his home turf when you might get caught out at night?”
“We’ve still got daylight, and based on what Carlos told me, this guy is pretty close.” Brownstone shook his head. “Why waste a bunch of time driving back to Cabo and coming back the next day? You did your job, now let me do mine.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “You’re serious? You can’t wait one day? Plus, we should be securing the Green Dragon Crescent Blade. That was the main reason we both came here, remember? You’re getting some special crap from Smite-Williams and all that. I don’t like the idea of putting the deal at risk because you’re all gung ho about going after this necromancer.”
“If I wait, there’s too much risk of Sombra hearing that I’m coming.”
“How? It’s not like the guy hangs out around a lot of people.” She clarified, “Who are still breathing.”
“Carlos and his men might say something to someone, and it might leak to Sombra. I should do this now, when he won’t be expecting me.”
“Fine. Whatever. Is this about you making those guys all but wet themselves back there? You believing your own hype about how you’re a devil? That shit shouldn’t go to your head.”
The bounty hunter chuckled. “It doesn’t, and it’s good that they’re spreading my rep. Killing is messy, Shay, and I’d rather people be afraid of me when they know I’m after them. It makes things easier and simpler.”
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) Page 32