The bounty hunter nodded. “Sorry. Didn’t know.”
Gunny Hawkins shrugged. “No big deal, and I’d be happy to put you in contact with the guy, especially if you’ve got money to throw around.”
“Like I said, I’m willing to pay well.”
The gunny grinned. “Paying better than the Corps isn’t hard.”
“And you don’t think their background is a problem? He won’t have a problem training gang members?”
The gunny shook his head. “It’s not like every new recruit we get in the Corps comes from the nicest families. Training is about stripping that shit away and carving a man or woman into something better.”
Some emotion flashed in Vasquez’s eyes, but James couldn’t figure out what was it was.
James shifted his attention to her. “Problem, Vasquez?”
“N-nothing.”
“If you’ve got something to say, go ahead and tell me. I’m fucking hard to offend.”
Well, as long as you don’t talk shit about my family.
Vasquez sighed, looking down. “It’s not like that. It’s just…I was in a gang before I joined the Corps. I would have ended up dead in a gutter if it wasn’t for the Marine Corps.” She looked back up, her face beaming with pride. “Proper discipline can turn anyone into someone better, Mr. Brownstone.”
“Glad to hear it.” James waved down a waitress. “But enough business bullshit for now. How about we have something to drink?”
A couple of hours later as James headed up the highway, his mind ran over everything involved with the Brownstone Agency. The paperwork had been obnoxious, and the idea of managing employees still seemed as mysterious as the World in Between. And now he was having to worry about training people.
This shit is getting complicated. Really fucking complicated.
Despite the difficulties, he hadn’t thought of abandoning the agency for more than a few seconds. He could turn the gang into something more disciplined; more useful to both the city and themselves. They could push back against the assholes together, and make good money doing it at the same time.
What do you think, Father Thomas? Am I just fooling myself here, or am I actually doing something good?
He gritted his teeth at the memory of the false Father Thomas the despair bug had conjured in Japan. Even though it was a fiction created by his own mind, the heavy sting of the doppelganger’s words lingered.
My ward is a foul-mouthed thug who kills people for a living. And then you inflict your grievous sins on Father McCartney. I wonder how he feels at night having to help you cleanse your disgusting and demon-tainted soul?
He might have killed the monster who fucked with his brain, but that didn’t change the truths it had unearthed and the hidden disgust lingering beneath the surface of his mind.
But that didn’t matter. He was James Brownstone, and he’d push back against the fucking darkness every damned day until he died. When the time came and he lay bleeding out, he wanted to know he’d taken more evil out of the world than he’d put into it.
The Brownstone Agency was a start, as were Alison and Shay. Friends, family, and a neighborhood to defend. The despair bug had been wrong. James had everything in the world to live for, and everything in the world to protect.
James blew out a long breath. Life wasn’t simple anymore, but he no longer thought that was terrible. Annoying as fuck, sure, but not terrible.
He wished he could talk to Shay about it. The tomb raider knew first-hand what it was like to change from being a loner and start working with other people. Maybe dealing with Peyton wasn’t as complicated as trying to train an entire gang, but at least she had some insight.
Fuck. What is it, two more days before my deadline? Where the hell are you that you’re out of contact?
His phone chimed in the console and he looked down, his heart rate kicking up at the idea it was Shay.
But Alison, not Shay, had texted him.
Aunt Shay says she is OK and not to worry. She had time to text one person and figured she didn’t need to know if you were cooking. She’ll call you in 2 days.
James chuckled and then blinked. The timing of the message made him wonder if Alison had access to more magic than he knew.
Coincidence, or is she reading my soul all the way from Virginia?
11
James’ phone chimed with a text from Trey.
Getting ready to go after a level one. He’s hiding in a motel near Philips Bar-B-Que. Don’t you like that place? Heard you mention it a few times.
A smile appeared on the bounty hunter’s face. Might as well have a decent lunch and check out Trey in action. He lifted his phone to text back.
Where you at? I’m gonna come pick you up.
Windowmaker smiled and leaned over the table in the bar to emphasize her cleavage. The two uniformed Detroit police officers glanced at each other, then looked back up at her.
The gold wedding bands on both men caught her attention. It’d been a while since she’d harvested two at the same time. Their beer glasses were half-empty so it was a good time to strike, but first she needed to confirm some intelligence.
“Can we help you, Miss?” one of the cops asked. His nametag read Austin.
Widowmaker slipped into a seat and batted her eyelashes at Officer Austin. “Oh, I just love cops, you know? You guys protect this city and make it safe for women like me. Detroit PD has a tough job, and I really appreciate what you do. I can’t think of a tougher job than being a cop.”
The other cop, Varga, cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks, ma’am.”
Her eyes widened and snapped. “Hey, I saw you both on television. When that guy—Greystone, Blackstone, whoever—was on television.”
“You talking about Brownstone bringing in that necromancer?” Austin chuckled. “We were just standing in the background. That was an AET and Brownstone show, not a beat-cop thing.”
“Oh, come on, now. Fancy AET guys or bounty hunters get all the glory, but you guys are the real line protecting innocents from criminals. I’ve lived in Detroit all my life, so I know who the real cops are.”
Austin shrugged. “Look, all cops do something useful. I got no beef with AET. It’s dangerous work.”
Varga nodded his agreement. “Yeah, and Lieutenant Walsh is a good guy. He did plenty of time on the streets before joining AET. He doesn’t let those guys get cocky and look down on us patrol officers. It’s not like that in every city.”
Widowmaker stuck out her lip. “I still feel for you, and what about this Brownstone? He’s not even a cop. I’m sure he’s sitting in some hotel room now thinking he’s so special because he brought in that man. I bet that’s annoying to have some bounty hunter taking all the glory.”
Varga frowned. “Nah, Brownstone gave half his bounty to the Detroit PD. He didn’t have to do that, and because of what he did there’s been a huge influx of donations. And not just to AET—the city council’s talking about upping the police budget, too. And he’s not sitting in some hotel, he’s back in LA taking down scumbags there.”
The Drow assassin smiled even as she seethed inwardly.
Brownstone is gone? So I’ve wasted my time. I’ll at least harvest these two fools.
“Oh, you guys are as humble as you are brave.” The Drow licked her lips. “You know, I’ve got to admit I’ve always had a fantasy,” she whispered.
“A fantasy?” Vargas blinked. Discomfort spread across his face.
“Yes. Of what it’d be like to be with a cop, but I was kind of wondering what it’d be like to be with two cops. I think you guys deserve a little bonus for all you do for the city.” She ran a hand down the side of her dress. “And I’d like to be the bonus,” she added in a husky voice.
Vargas sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I’m Catholic.”
Widowmaker snorted and rolled her eyes. “What about you, Officer Austin? I can send you to heaven.”
“Yeah, right before my
wife sends me to hell.” Austin laughed. “No thanks, lady. I’m flattered, but I’m also happily married. And a little scared of my wife.”
Vargas laughed this time.
The Drow rose, keeping her smile in place. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Either of you.”
Vargas nodded toward the door. “Ma’am, I think it’d be best if you left.”
“If that’s what you want.” She gave a final coy wink and headed toward the exit.
The Drow walked away from the bar and around the corner into an alley. Annoyance flowed through her veins.
Brownstone always seemed one step ahead of her, as if guarded by some clever spell. If it weren’t for all the delicious life she was draining from unfaithful husbands, the mission would have already exceeded the limits of her patience.
She’d been counting on one of the men being unfaithful. It’d been easy so far. Too easy. Humans treated their oaths like rotten fruit they were eager to toss away at the first chance.
A scratching noise came from the other end of the alley and the Drow marched toward it, her eyes narrowed.
A wagging tail stuck out from a knocked-over garbage can. A few seconds later, a mangy dog covered in matted fur stepped out, dragging a half-eaten burger patty.
Widowmaker sneered. “You’re as disgusting as a human.”
The dog dropped its burger and growled at the Drow.
She flicked her wrist and an opaque black sphere shot through the air and struck the dog. He let a howl of pain, collapsing to the ground. The dog rolled around for a few seconds before scampering off as fast as his legs could carry him, his burger left behind. The Drow chuckled, imagining the pain she’d deliver to Brownstone.
“I will destroy you, Brownstone. You may have no vows to dishonor, but you’ve taken something that isn’t yours.”
With a deep breath, the Drow reached into her blood and shifted her appearance.
Trey stared out the passenger-side window. “Our boy Jared has been dealing a lot of dust. Might even be able to lead the cops to an important link in the supply chain. Nasty asshole.”
James grunted. “And you already have his location. That was quick.”
“Yeah. This guy’s too cocky, you know what I’m saying? I just had to ask the right people and they gave his ass right up. Turns out being a prick isn’t good for business.
James snorted. “Good. If you ever hit a dead end, a good person to start with is Tyler at the Black Sun.”
“I haven’t been there yet. I’ve heard of the guy, but never been there. I know they have that neutral shit going on now, but I don’t trust that.”
James was more than a little suspicious of it himself. He also found it ironic that AET had been a key player in establishing the neutrality.
Guess Hall doesn’t give a shit when it’s not me.
He checked for suspicious drones or tails before responding. “Tyler hates my ass, but he’s honest enough with his information. Really prides himself on being a professional.”
“Okay, I’ll keep him in mind, but I’m not pretending to be anything other than a bounty hunter with the Brownstone Agency. I’m not gonna take any shit from him about you.”
“Good. Stand up to the asshole.” James parked his truck across the street from their target motel. “Let’s see what you got, Trey.”
“Watch and learn, James.” Trey winked and stepped out of the truck. “See, you might be James Brownstone, but Trey Garfield brings style to this game, you know what I’m saying?”
Trey made his way across the street and toward the target room with a swagger in his step. James followed after a moment but changed course until he stood around the corner from the room.
Trey knocked on the door and waited. “Jared? I’m with the Brownstone Agency. I know you’re in there. Why don’t you come to the door and save us both some time, okay? We can do the whole hiding-in-the-room shit, but, come on—it’s embarrassing to us both.”
“You ain’t James Brownstone,” called the man from the other side of the door. “You think I was gonna fall for that shit?”
“No shit, fucker. I didn’t say I was Brownstone. I said I work for the Brownstone Agency. Brownstone’s my fucking boss, but he doesn’t have time to waste on your punk ass. So I’m here to take it in. You gonna come out nicely, or am I gonna have to—"
Two loud shots cut Trey off and sent him flying backward. Bile rose in James’ throat as his protégé slammed into the ground.
The bounty hunter sprinted to the door, growling. Two large holes now decorated the door. James didn’t stop to think, threaten, or even pull a weapon. He slammed his foot into the door at full strength.
The wood cracked and splintered, and the door sailed inward. Jared yelped and collapsed as it collided with him. His gun, a Desert Eagle, flew out of his hand.
The bounty groaned from the ground and shoved the door off him. His eyes widened.
“You’re fucking James Brownstone!” Jared screamed.
James yanked the man up and brought back his fist. Jared fainted.
With another growl, the bounty hunter tossed the man to the floor. He spun to find Trey slowly standing up wearing a pained expression.
Trey grimaced. “Shit that hurt. I think my ribs are bruised.” He looked down. “At least the bastard didn’t clip my jacket, just have to replace the tie and shirt. Man, looking good while kicking ass can get expensive. Starting to understand why you dress like that.”
James looked down at himself. First Shay, now Trey?
“Wait, why aren’t you dead or bleeding out?”
Trey grinned. “Good thing I always use protection. That, and bulletproof vests. I might be a badass, but I ain’t motherfucking James Brownstone. I need to be careful.” He fished out some handcuffs and headed inside the motel room. “I should beat the motherfucker’s ass. He almost killed me.”
James grunted but said nothing. Trey was right. If he hadn’t been wearing the vest, he might have been dead. He wouldn’t begrudge a few sucker punches.
Trey turned Jared over and handcuffed him. “You know what? Fuck that.” He sucked in a breath and Smooth Trey returned. “I’m not a hood rat anymore. I’m a professional bounty hunter, and it’s not professional to beat down bounties.” He nodded to James. “I’ve got to build the rep of the Brownstone Agency. A good rep can win a fight for you before you’ve even started. Like the man said, ‘Supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.’”
James frowned. “I’ve never said that.”
Trey laughed. “Not you, James. Sun Tzu. You know, The Art of War?”
“Never read it. If the guy wrote a cookbook, I’ll get around to reading it eventually. You read ancient Chinese authors?”
“I’ve been reading a lot of shit since I’ve started this job.” Trey tapped his forehead. “The more you know, the less you die. Anyway, I figure if the word goes out that the Brownstone Agency won’t dog on a man once the cuffs are on, more guys will surrender. Don’t want them to feel like their backs are against the wall, you know?”
“Sounds like a good plan.” James stared down at the unconscious bounty.
Shit. I’ve always tried to scare assholes into surrendering, but never really thought about how to work it the other way. Maybe Trey’s a better businessman than I am.
James grunted. “Let’s throw him in the back and swing by the barbeque place for some takeout.”
12
James scrolled through the webpage for a restaurant supplier. Even though he didn’t have a plan to start his own barbeque restaurant anytime soon, his foray into business had set his mind in motion toward the possibility.
If shit’s gonna be complicated anyway, maybe I should think about some of this. It wouldn’t be so bad to have a stake in a place. Maybe I could hire someone, but mess around there, too.
He didn’t want to run the place himself. He lacked the cooking skills, but he liked the idea of having his own small barbequ
e kingdom.
If I called it Brownstone’s, would that cause trouble or get me business?
James winced, imagining some King Pyro-like asshole blowing open his restaurant and killing a bunch of barbeque lovers.
“Okay, maybe having my own barbeque place wouldn’t be a great idea for a few years.”
His phone rang and he snatched it from his desk. Shay. His heart beat faster.
“Hello?” James answered, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.
What the fuck am I doing?
“So, IRS audit your ass yet?”
He chuckled. “It’s a new business. I think it takes a little longer than that. You okay?”
“Fuck, yeah. You know me—I’m always okay. I’m leaving Australia to go to Japan. Got another job there, but I’ll be back in a week.”
“What the fuck were you even doing in Australia that you couldn’t call me?”
“Long story short, there’s a legend of a ship that came to Australia before Captain Cook—the so-called Mahogany Ship. Turns out the legend’s true, and also turns out there were some artifacts aboard. It was kind of an annoying little job tracking the thing down and then some of the other artifacts, and assholes got in my way.”
James grunted. “What happened to those assholes? Do I need to have some one-way discussions with people?”
“Nope. I already gave them lead poisoning. There were also several guys with grenade and knife allergies.”
James chuckled, but worry ate his mirth. “And you’re gonna go on another raid? Shouldn’t you rest? Sounds like it was a tougher one than usual.”
“Says the man who likes to take down high-level bounties in rapid succession.” Shay snorted. “Don’t worry, this Japan thing’s a milk run.” She let out a quiet sigh. “And you’re still breathing. That’s always good news.”
“Yeah, nothing big here. I took down a necromancer in Detroit, but that’s about it.”
Shay groaned. “Motherfucking zombies.”
“Nope, no zombies. This guy hopped bodies.”
She Is The Widow Maker: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 5) Page 9