The man snorted and hurried away. “Homeless scum,” he muttered under his breath. “We should ship all of you off to Oriceran. I’m sure they could do something useful with you.”
“I’m not homeless. My house got blown up, asshole.”
James grunted, suddenly realizing that technically it did make him homeless.
“Whatever, pal. Stop drinking so much.” The man sniffed and picked up his pace.
Yeah, all talk. Fucking coward.
As James continued down the street, he thought about how his life had unfolded so far. He was using his strength to try to slow the darkness and chaos that threatened to swallow the world. Optimism wasn’t his motivation.
He wasn’t sure if anything would make a difference in the long run, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie down and give up. He didn’t care if a whole army came for him; he’d fight until the bitter end.
Each step brought him closer to the consulate. No shots rang out. No missiles or fireballs zoomed from above. No angry gods appeared to hurl lightning at him.
That was promising.
Fuck. He’d really let these bastards rattle his cage. He’d need to charge ‘em rent if they were gonna live in his head.
James understood the risks of his profession, including how he could die going after bounties, but on some level he’d always believed that if he made it home at the end of the day he’d be okay. The Harriken had put a crack in that belief by killing Leeroy, and now their hit had shattered it completely by taking out his house. At least his truck had survived, albeit barely.
Sorry, Father McCartney. As I told you, I’m pretty Old-Testament. He grunted. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. A fucking hundred houses for a fucking house.
Okay, maybe a little Ragnarok.
The high consulate walls now loomed over him. A series of concentric concrete barriers protected the gate, preventing truck bombs. A faint glimmer in the air over the walls suggested some sort of magical forcefield surrounded the consulate, which was not all that surprising.
James pulled out his phone, now feeling secure for at least the next few minutes. If any dumbasses showed up and started shooting, ferret ninjas and dragon knights or something like that would appear and deliver the pain. He hoped. It might almost be worth all the trouble.
The bounty hunter quickly dialed, glancing around for suspicious people or drones.
“Hello?” Alison answered. “I didn’t know you were going to call.”
“Hey, Alison,” James replied. The girl’s voice soothed his hot blood. “Just wanted to check in with you. Not like I need a special reason, right?” He forced a chuckle.
“Oh, sorry, James. I wasn’t saying I was mad or anything. It’s just you’re always so busy.”
The bounty hunter let out a long sigh. “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess that’s kind of why I wanted to call.” He searched for a plausible lie. The last thing he needed was for the girl to worry about what was going on with him. “I have a lot of meetings this weekend, so I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to call.”
“’Meetings?’” Alison laughed. “Is that what you call it when you go and kick some bad guy’s butt?”
“Well, you know, same difference. It’s not like it has to go down that way, but no one ever wants to come quietly. Not my fault.” James grunted. He didn’t want her to worry about him. “Enough about me. How is everything going with you? You ever make up with Aya over that whole crushed-doll thing?”
Alison sighed. “Yeah, we’re good now. I felt so bad. She cried for such a long time.”
“Just keep in mind, kid, it was an accident. It wasn’t like you meant to sit on the thing.”
“I know, but she’s got such a pure soul that it’s like kicking a puppy or something. I feel like the worst.”
James smiled, the tension of the hunt disappearing as he talked to the teenager. It’d only been a brief slice of his life, but he’d peeked into a world he could have had in another life; a world with a loving family and simple problems, rather than a world of blood, shadows, and pain.
He shook his head. I guess the world needs people like me so kids like her can sleep at night without worrying about the real monsters out there. Takes a monster to hunt monsters.
“Any progress on the magic?” James asked. “I know you’ve been worried about that shi— Stuff.”
“It’s the same. A lot of my teachers sitting around going off about my great potential, but not much else going on.”
“Yeah, well, not that I would know, but I’m guessing these things take time.”
A cargo drone dipped low and James tensed, his free hand dropping to one of the holsters inside his coat. When he spotted USPS markings on the side relief spread through him.
The drone zoomed off down the street.
“Are you still going to be able to come next weekend?” Alison asked, a hint of concern in her voice. “Or do you have more meetings?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure thing, kid. As long as I’m still breathing I’ll be there.” Big “if” on the breathing thing, though.
“Okay,” Alison replied. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get going. Aya needs my help with something.”
“No problem.”
“Love you, James,” Alison told him and hung up.
James blinked. It still felt strange and foreign when someone said that to him. It was almost as weird as Oriceran magic.
In another life, Alison might have been his daughter. He’d already started thinking of her that way even if he hadn’t formally adopted her. Now he wasn’t so sure he wasn’t setting up the girl for more pain.
He sighed. You were orphaned before, and you might be again. I’m sorry, kid.
5
James headed away from the consulate after the third glowing butterfly circled him. He didn’t know if they were Oricerans or their version of drones, but causing an interplanetary incident wasn’t high on his list of ways to make his day go better.
“Keep it simple, stupid” might have been his motto in life, but a close second would be “The best defense is a good offense.”
Even though his house had been destroyed, James could still bring more than enough pain to his enemies. He had enough gear on him to launch a decent assault, along with what was in the warehouse if he had to use it.
The main problem was that he’d lose a war of attrition. He couldn’t wait for every random hoodlum, thug, and hitman to take their shots one by one. He needed to go to the money source and cut it off.
Most criminals, violent or otherwise, were lazy. No one would risk going after him for free.
Different contacts passed through his mind. He could call the Professor, but he already owed the man for the apartment—and asking him to dig into the Harriken might expose him to danger. Even Smite-Williams wouldn’t always be able to drunkenly laugh his way out of trouble.
The police might know, but they’d probably insist on putting him in protective custody like Mack suggested. The cops wouldn’t stand a chance.
James needed to get the information from someone who would know, but also someone he didn’t give a damn about if they ended up being dumped into the ocean missing their head.
He grinned. One good contender popped into his head.
The bounty hunter whipped out his phone and dialed someone he was sure wouldn’t be happy to hear from him.
“Hello?” a man answered, suspicion in his voice. “Who is this, and how did you get this number?”
“Hey, Tyler. This is James Brownstone.”
“I changed my number just so you wouldn’t call me, asshole.”
James chuckled. “I’ve got ways of tracking that shit down. I am a bounty hunter, remember?”
Tyler muttered something under his breath. “What do you want, Brownstone? You going to come and bust up my place again?”
“Hey, why are you being so pissy? I paid for all the repairs.”
“You’re a menace, Brownstone, and now it seems like most everyo
ne agrees. Tough break.”
“You mean a bunch of murderous scum have a hard-on thinking they’re gonna get rich by taking me down? The Harriken thought they could scare me before, but that didn’t end well for them. Now a lot of people are gonna learn an important lesson about who they shouldn’t fuck with.”
“I wonder how long all that macho posturing will last, Brownstone. Guess it’s good for you to feel the heat.” Tyler let out a dark chuckle. “Now you know how all the men and women you’ve brought in felt. It must feel bad, now that the shoe’s on the other foot. Like getting fucked in the ass without the lube, huh?”
James grunted. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, asshole.”
“Enjoying it, Brownstone? This is the Super Bowl, the World Series, my birthday, and Christmas all rolled into one. I won’t be able to get much sleep until it’s over, but after that I’ll sleep like a baby, secure in the knowledge that you got fucked over.”
“I’m ending this soon.” James grunted. “I cleared out the two Harriken bases before, but they’ve got to have some other local place. I need to know where they are.”
Tyler scoffed. “Even if I knew, which I’m not saying I do, why the fuck should I tell you? I’d love it if this Harriken hit ends up taking you down.”
“I’ll pay you a shitload of money, and then it doesn’t matter if I’m dead. You profit either way.”
“Oh, you suddenly feeling generous? That’s not like you, Brownstone.”
“No, I’m feeling angry about some fuckers who blew up my house, and I’m willing to be nice about it.” James clenched his teeth, trying his best not to squeeze his phone and break it. “Or I could come over there and have a personal chat with you about the location.”
Tyler burst out laughing. “You’re going to come to the Black Sun? Yeah, Brownstone, that’s smart. You get within three miles of this place, and I’m sure half the underworld would know it. Go ahead. I don’t fucking care. It’s your funeral.” Another snicker followed. “And I will come to your funeral, by the way, so I can piss on your grave. Maybe do a little dance and upload the whole thing to the internet.”
James muttered and took his phone away from his ear. He pulled up a secure money transfer app and tapped for a few seconds before bringing the phone back up. “There’s half up front. If you give me the location you get the rest. If you’re so convinced I’m gonna die, it shouldn’t matter if you tell me.”
There was silence for several seconds.
“I...see,” Tyler said, his voice calmer than before. “You’re either feeling generous or desperate, but you know what? I’m a professional and a businessman. Money is money. I’ll send you the location in a second, but I’ve got a little bonus service for you, Brownstone. A little extra bit of info.”
“What?”
“This won’t be like before. These fuckers know you’re coming, know you’re desperate, and they have effectively infinite reinforcements. If you go after them you’ll die. Your best bet is to hop a plane and go hide out in some fucking hut in the middle of some country no one’s ever heard of. Otherwise you’re dead, and soon.”
James snorted. “That’s my fucking problem, Tyler. I hope your dick falls off when you piss on my grave, but if you want that money, send me the damn location before someone kills me.” He hung up.
A few seconds later the phone chimed with a text.
The bounty hunter’s stroll to the nearest car rental place took far longer than he would have liked, but he didn’t have much choice. Mass transit would mean mass casualities, and rideshares and taxis couldn’t be trusted.
James eyed the rental agent behind the desk. The balding man kept fidgeting as he looked at his computer screen.
“Okay, Mr. Brownstone,” the man confirmed. “Your account has been verified.” The tone of his voice suggested that he was surprised. Apparently Mr. Douchebag Business Jerk wasn’t the only person who thought James was a homeless drifter.
“Good,” James replied, his voice even lower than usual.
“Are you sure you want the older model Humvee? We have much better vehicles; brand new vehicles.”
“No, the Humvee.”
The rental agent sighed. “Okay, and do you want us to fill it up?”
“No, I’ll fill it up myself.”
“Okay, so what sort of network interfaces are you looking for? Cellular? Satellite?”
James shook his head. “I don’t care about any of that shit. I just need the truck.”
“GPS?”
“Whatever. Like I said, I don’t care.”
“Oh. Well, again…are you sure you want an older model? We could give you a newer model with a much better entertainment suite. The model you’re asking for doesn’t have much other than satellite radio and Bluetooth.”
James tightened his hands into fists. He only wanted a damned truck. It was bad enough that he couldn’t drive his own, and he didn’t need a bunch of complicated garbage.
The rental agent snapped his fingers. “How about extra insurance? Even if you have insurance, it helps to have a little extra. That way you don’t have to worry about a lot of paperwork if by whatever small chance you get into an accident.”
“Insurance?”
An image of hitmen perforating the Humvee with automatic weapons filled Brownstone’s mind. He wondered if insurance would cover the replacement of a vehicle blown up by a rocket launcher.
“Yes.” The rental agent smiled. “I’d recommend a good amount. Keep in mind that a heavy storm is moving in. You know how people get when there’s a little water on the road.”
James nodded. “Yeah, insurance sounds like a good idea.”
Shay leaned back in her seat, enjoying the comfort and space that came with first class. A first-class ticket on a supersonic flight wasn’t cheap, but Brownstone would be paying for it eventually, one way or another.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came a voice over the speaker. “This is Captain Smith. I regret to inform you that we’ll have to take a detour to Seattle. Storm activity over the Pacific is unusually severe, and we’ve received word there may be some sort of magical fluctuations. We’ll land in Seattle and wait a few hours, then continue on to Los Angeles. We’re sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.”
A distinguished-looking older couple in front of Shay exchanged glances.
The woman sniffed disdainfully. “Magical? I told you something like this would happen. Those Oricerans want to ruin our world. I read about it on the internet. It’s called ‘magiforming.’ They’re going to make our world more like Oriceran so they can take over and make humanity their slaves.”
“You reading those conspiracy sites again?” Her husband shook his head. “I don’t think Earth governments will just sit by and let that happen.”
“I’ve read that all the prime ministers and presidents on the planet have been replaced by Oriceran-controlled magical dolls.”
“Besides, we’ve got nuclear weapons. You can’t take over a planet with nuclear weapons—I don’t care how much magic you have. They’re also talking about establishing official magical units in the military. We’ll have nukes, planes, tanks, and soldier mages. We’ve got nothing to fear from the Oricerans. They are centuries behind us in technology.”
The woman opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. She paled instead, finally realizing a Dwarven woman was sitting across the aisle from them. The Oriceran’s mouth quirked in a faint smile and she looked out the window.
Lot calmer than I would have been, Shay thought.
The awkward silence that descended over the first-class section forced the tomb raider’s attention back to her own concerns. She was racing back to Los Angeles to help Brownstone. Any delay meant the chance of him doing something stupid or dying increased.
“Brownstone,” she muttered. “Even trying to come home and save you has to be a pain in the ass.”
The hitman who liked to call himself “Absolute Zero” smiled under his helmet as he saw Bro
wnstone pull away from the rental lot. He’d expected to have a harder time tracking the man down, but now the target was right in front of him in a normal vehicle, just waiting to die.
Soon the hitman would be half a million dollars richer.
Absolute Zero had heard all sorts of rumors about the bounty hunter. A lot of people claimed he’d killed almost every Harriken in LA and a whole unit from the Grayson company.
The hitman didn’t believe any of that shit for a second.
Obviously the Harriken and Grayson had had some sort of falling out that resulted in a lot of casualities and both were trying to save face. Brownstone had probably managed nothing more than killing a couple of high-ranking men and provided a convenient scapegoat.
Sure, the guy could bring in a fancy bounty or two, but that wasn’t the same thing as killing dozens of men. Brownstone’s only real power was spreading bullshit and having people buy into it.
Absolute Zero knew all about that because he played the same game. A few words here and there to the right people and everyone started believing you had special powers and Oriceran tricks you could use. Then they paid you more, or they didn’t mess with you.
The hitman followed the Humvee onto the highway. Brownstone was delivering himself to death. A few surprise bursts from a gun, and the cocky bastard would lose control. Finishing him off while he lay half-dead in the wreckage would be easy.
The hitman grinned. “I’ll raise a glass to you during the vacation I take after this, Brownstone.”
Absolute Zero’s grin vanished as the Humvee jerked off the road onto an embankment.
“Shit.” The hitman didn’t have his gun out. He wasn’t sure how Brownstone had made him.
He pulled onto the embankment after the Humvee, which was now barreling toward an abandoned industrial complex.
The hitman sped up, his engine howling. His motorcycle sped after the other vehicle, which turned a corner between two warehouses. Several seconds later he reached the same area, and he screeched to a halt.
The Humvee had vanished.
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 44