She Is The Widow Maker: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 5)

by Michael Anderle

  James checked around to see if any of his tails were driving suspiciously, but they were all keeping their distance.

  “What deal?”

  “You’re currently transporting an item of interest to me, and I’m willing to offer you a good reward if you’ll turn it over me.”

  “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

  The man let out a quiet laugh. “Here’s the thing, Mr. Brownstone. I’m not some idiot gangster. I’m a man of means, and I’ve been tracking the crystal. I have grand plans for it. I haven’t had my men attack because you’re not someone I’m interested in angering. I understand why you’ve done what you’ve done in the past. Those Harriken disrespected you. I won’t make that mistake. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and your abilities.”

  “Those are some good instincts. You should stick with them.”

  “Exactly. So instead of angering you, I want to make you happy. I want to treat you as I would wish to be treated.”

  James laughed. “Leaving me the fuck alone would make me happy. Why not do that?”

  “That’s one possibility,” the man agreed. “But I have another option. A way we can both benefit and be happy.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “A better offer than your current employer. I suspect it’s Smite-Williams, but it doesn’t matter. You see, I’m willing to pay two hundred and fifty million dollars for the artifact, and I know that old drunk doesn’t have that kind of money to throw around.”

  James grunted. “Who are you, anyway?”

  “That’s something you don’t need to know at this time.”

  “Well, I know you’re one rich son of a bitch.”

  The man chuckled quietly. “Oriceran represents great business opportunities. I realized that early on, and have profited accordingly. In this case, you don’t have to do anything but hand over something that’s caused you nothing but distress.”

  James had always wondered if he had a price. Years of high-level bounties assured that even if he quit his job he’d never have to worry about going hungry, but he was still a hobo compared to a man who could throw around such huge sums of money.

  Some people said everyone could be bought, and James had always half-believed that. Maybe that was true, but the money being offered wasn’t high enough.

  Guess we’ll find out some other day if I can be bought.

  James cleared his throat. “This kind of shit always makes me think about 1 Timothy 6:10.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The Bible. A lot of people get that one wrong all the time. They think it says, ‘Money is the root of all evil.’ It doesn’t say that, though.”

  “Oh? I just might have to start going to church.” Mr. Rich Dude snorted. “I’m glad to see you can be reasonable, Mr. Brownstone. I knew it was a good thing to contact you and explain my position.”

  “Nah, you don’t get it. Yeah, it doesn’t say that, but it does say ‘Love of money is the root of all evil.’ I love a lot of shit, including barbeque and my truck, but money, not so much. Just a means to an end.”

  “I’m offering a very great means,” the man ground out, his voice tight. “More than you’ll ever hope to gain, no matter how many scumbags you drag into the police.”

  “I can live with that.”

  A weary sigh followed over the phone. “Don’t be a fool, Mr. Brownstone. With the money I’m offering you, you could move to some beautiful tropical paradise overlooking an ocean. You could leave that pathetic little garbage dump of a neighborhood behind, along with all those cockroaches.”

  James snorted. “You don’t know me very well. I like my neighborhood, and those people you’re calling cockroaches are my friends. You want what I got? Come and take it, asshole.” He hung up.

  He eyed an exit sign. He was still far from the rest area, but the light traffic suggested this was a good place to have a showdown.

  Wonder what Sun Tzu would say about this shit? Some sort of battlefield preparation shit, I bet. Maybe I should ask Trey later. Or, fuck…I could read the book.

  The cars following him sped up. James took the exit, accelerating as well, and scanned for a good place to beat down a rich asshole’s paid thugs.

  There was an abandoned gas station up the road, complete with grass and weeds shooting through the cracked pavement. Perfect.

  James whipped off the road and screeched to a halt next to the pumps. He grabbed an already prepped tactical harness from the back seat and finished slipping it on as five black sedans pulled off the road.

  The bounty hunter exited his truck, .45 already in hand. Ten suited men with automatic rifles filed out of the cars, bathed in the bright light of the full moon. Two other men wore the same dark suits but held no obvious weapons.

  Wonder what their deal is?

  “Do you assholes really want to do this?” James shouted. “You know who I fucking am? Do you? How many dickwads do you think were in the Harriken headquarters in LA? How many in Tokyo? Huh?”

  A few of them exchanged nervous glances.

  “Our employer has instructed us that if you immediately surrender the item, you’re not to be harmed,” one of the men without a gun called. “You can leave, and his initial offer stands. If not, I’m afraid you die here, Mr. Brownstone.”

  James crept away from the F-350, taking the briefcase with him. He didn’t want his truck to be turned into Swiss cheese again. He sprinted toward the side of the abandoned convenience store that had once connected to the gas station.

  Muzzle flashes lit up the pump area and glass shattered the few remaining unbroken windows. James laid down a few shots of his own and one man fell with a groan.

  The men continued their bursts of fire as they advanced in a rough line. James downed two more with quick shots.

  He’d credit the men for discipline. A lot of lesser thugs would have broken and run the minute a couple of their guys dropped. They were already three men down and keeping up their fire.

  The men broke into two groups, obviously intending to encircle the building.

  James threw a frag grenade and sprinted around the corner.

  “Grenade!” a man screamed.

  The explosion roared in the night a second later. James didn’t continue running around the building. Instead, he popped around the original corner to empty his magazine into several dazed thugs. The enemy force now was only six men strong.

  Bullets whizzed by him as he retreated around the corner and rushed toward the rusty back door. He dropped the empty magazine and slammed in a new one.

  The bounty hunter ripped the door off its hinges and rushed inside as pairs of men turned the corner and sent a bullet storm his way. The bullets pinged and sparked against the metal door from the other side.

  James threw another grenade toward the riflemen as he rushed toward the front of the abandoned convenience store. He charged the front door, shoulder-first. The worn hinges didn’t stand a chance and the door flew out.

  He cringed, but it missed his truck by a few inches.

  Shit. Better be careful. Could have hurt something important.

  James pointed his gun back and forth, looking for survivors. The two unarmed men walked around the corner with frowns on their faces. The bounty hunter fired twice at each but they didn’t even twitch.

  “Yeah, figured that,” he muttered.

  James holstered his pistol and threw a knife at one of the men, but it bounced off harmlessly.

  The other man twitched and the bounty hunter grinned. He pulled out two more knives and threw one at the man’s leg.

  He snapped up his arm and cried out as the blade embedded itself in his leg. The next knife ended up in his head, and he fell to the ground, a pool of blood forming beneath him.

  “This is why I hate magic. It makes no fucking sense that a knife works, but a gun doesn’t. What’s up with that?”

  The remaining man shrugged. He’d been the one who spoke before. “It all makes se
nse for the particular magic. Why would a man be protected except for his heel? It makes sense once you know the way he became protected.” He cracked his knuckles. “It’s always good to see someone who lives up to their reputation, Mr. Brownstone. When you ran, I worried that I wouldn’t even get to play.”

  “What’s your deal, asshole?”

  “That would be telling.”

  James put down the briefcase and raised his fists. “I just killed all your friends, including Magic Boy Number Two over there. You want to keep breathing, you can get in a car and drive off. Otherwise, I hope your will is fucking up to date.”

  “Ah, there’s a thin line between arrogance and confidence, Mr. Brownstone.”

  The bounty hunter narrowed his eyes, wondering if he should bond with the amulet. The process didn’t take a huge amount of time, but it also wasn’t instant.

  Nah. Waited too long.

  James charged the man, throwing a series of quick jabs. The man blocked with a few soft grunts but didn’t stumble back, which proved he was much stronger than the average man.

  The man slammed a fist into James’ stomach and the bounty hunter hissed as pain shot through his abdomen. It was a nice solid blow, but was a step below the strength of the hits from someone like King Pyro.

  So he’s tough, but not super-strong. I can deal with that.

  An exchange of blows followed. James blocked his opponent’s hits, but his own didn’t seem to be doing much other than making the man twitch.

  The man jumped back and pulled a knife from a sheath under his jacket. He tossed it from hand to hand with a wicked grin on his face. “Maybe the best offense really is a good defense.”

  The enemy swiped a few times with his blade but didn’t land a hit. James waited until he overextended, then grabbed the man’s arm and yanked backward. The man grimaced, but his bones didn’t break. His knife clattered against the asphalt and the blade glowed red for a split second.

  James smashed his shoulder into his opponent. The man stumbled backward and let out a low growl and the bounty hunter took his chance, snatching the knife from the ground and shoving it into the man’s chest.

  The other man’s eyes widened. “No…” He backed up, pain and fear etched on his face. His skin darkened and shifted, and after a few seconds his pale smooth skin had been replaced by a rough gray texture.

  “What the fuck are you?” James let go of the knife and pushed the man back with his foot. “I’d say some shit about I expected more from you, but I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”

  The now-rigid suited statue hit the ground and broke into several pieces.

  “Yeah, that was different.” James reached down to grab the knife, only to find a molten puddle. “Yeah, of course. What a fucking rip-off.”

  He retrieved the briefcase, got into his truck, and roared off.

  17

  James headed into the parking lot of an abandoned electronics store. Weathering had left the original name unreadable, but it had ended with “City.”

  He pulled out his phone and checked his texts and emails. Trey had been a busy little hunter, racking up more than a few bounties in recent days. The reputation of the Brownstone Agency was growing with each capture. Once they brought Royce on, agency action would explode.

  Trey’s success without James holding his hand also proved the agency was a good idea and could sustain itself without him running things on a day-to-day basis.

  The bounty hunter chuckled. He wondered if there would be any low-level bounties left in Los Angeles within a year.

  We’re gonna fucking scare every asshole out of this city. Then, I don’t know, go clean up San Francisco or some shit.

  A familiar black Porsche pulled in right next to his F-350. His four-day odyssey was finally coming to an end.

  In truth, he was a little disappointed. It’d been a long time since he’d hit up so many new barbeque places. Even in Los Angeles, he’d gotten too comfortable with going to the same places.

  They weren’t bad places, but the quest for ultimate barbeque understanding required him to go outside of his comfort zone.

  Going to Jessie Rae’s again and again was a different matter. Maybe the God Sauce itself was the ultimate barbeque flavor, hence the name. He’d need to make another trip there soon for research purposes.

  Addie Endo opened her door and stepped out of her car with a faint smile on her face.

  The bounty hunter rolled down his window and held out his finger. The courier retrieved a DNA scanner from her purse and did a quick check.

  “You know that’s not enough, big boy. Got to be sure. I need the passphrase.”

  “Come on. It’s been a busy last few days.”

  Addie rolled her eyes. “And I know you didn’t forget it. You know the deal. DNA plus passphrase or I walk.”

  James gritted his teeth.

  “A young woman got married last noon,

  Her boyfriend she kissed, and gave a swoon,

  Her mother laughed and said, ‘You're in luck,

  He's a stunning good fuck.

  For I've had him myself down in the saloon.”

  Addie snort-laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. Things like this make me love this job.”

  “You have other people using dirty limericks as passphrases?”

  “Nope, you’re the first.” The courier reached through the window of her Porsche to pull out a briefcase. “Can’t believe this shit worked.” She handed it to James.

  “It wouldn’t have without the artifacts. One sent a signature like the crystal, and the one I loaned you suppressed it just enough. If I hadn’t been bait, they would have figured it out. All about being the noisiest deer in the woods.”

  Addie whistled. “Can’t believe you’d basically throw up a flare that said, ‘Attack me, assholes!’ when you didn’t even have anything worth guarding. You’ve got balls of steel, Mr. Brownstone.”

  James grunted. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  The courier gave him a little salute. “That it did, big boy. That it did. It was fun. Hope you enjoyed being the bait.” She winked. “Until next time.”

  The courier slid into her Porsche and pulled away with a wave.

  James stared at the briefcase containing the Atlantean crystal. He hadn’t run into any serious trouble by his standards, and he’d managed to sample a lot of great barbeque up and down the West Coast. All in all, a good trip. Almost a vacation.

  The Professor reappeared from the back room of the Leanan Sídhe, the briefcase with the crystal and the other with the magic signature artifact gone. He retook his seat across from James.

  What the fuck kind of set-up do they have here that the Professor feels comfortable storing something like that in the back?

  “That went well.” The Professor picked up his beer and took a drink. Unlike the last time they had met, he was already red-faced. Not a single line of tension marred his face. “Very well. Even better than I had anticipated.”

  “Does the owner of this place know you’ve basically got a magical nuclear bomb in their back room?” James glanced toward the door and shook his head.

  “Aye, he does know, trust me. I’ve made arrangements. No one will be able to track it here, and I’ll be moving it again soon enough.”

  “One trusting guy.” James shook his head. “So what’s the plan? Gonna bury it next to the Ark of Covenant while top men examine it?”

  “Aye, something exactly like that.”

  James glanced back at the back room again. “Kind of makes me wonder how many things like that are out there.”

  “Too many, lad. Trust me, you’d rather not know.” The Professor shrugged and sipped his beer.

  James nodded. “Hey, when I was out on the road, some douchebag offered me two hundred and fifty million to turn it over.”

  “Were you tempted?”

  “Not really. What the fuck would I even do with two hundred and fifty million dollars?”

  The Professor chuckled.
“Many men would have turned it over for far less.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not most men. Just thought you should know that some really rich asshole is interested in it. He even mentioned he thought you might be the one collecting it.”

  “Thanks, James, but I already knew that. You can’t be in this business as long as I have without figuring out who is interested in the same sort of things.” A mischievous smile appeared on the Professor’s face. “But enough of that. I’m more interested in something else.”

  “What?”

  The Professor leaned forward, an all-too gleeful look in his eyes. “I trust that Ms. Endo made you use the passphrases?”

  James grunted. “Yeah, she did. Was she just fucking with me?”

  “No, lad, not at all. For all her playful manner and appearance, she takes her job deadly seriously. If you hadn’t given the passphrases she would have left. If you had attempted to force the matter, she would have tried to kill you. No, those were the passphrases I insisted on. The more you use dirty limericks, the more comfortable you’ll become with them. I was trying to help you and help with security at the same time.”

  “You mean you were trying to make me think about your dumbass contest,” James muttered.

  “You do owe me participation, James.” The Professor sighed. “That’s the problem with you, lad. If you feel like you’re going to embarrass yourself, you will. This is why I’m never embarrassed.”

  “Because you have no fucking sense of shame?”

  “Exactly. Shame is just power over you that you give to others. I’ve taken it all back. It’s a freedom you’d do well to seek.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind during the next Bard of Filth competition.”

  James’ phone chimed with a text and he pulled it out, surprised to see that the message was from Shay. He’d lost track of time with his focus on the Professor’s job.

  Hey. I’m leaving Japan in the morning. Prepare for a trip to South America. There’s something I need to check out down there, and it might help to have a sidekick.

  “Huh. Shay’s coming back, and I guess we’re going to South America?” James shrugged, wondering if he should be demanding more details or objecting to the trip. “Fuck. This is why I’ll never be a tomb raider; all the fucking plane rides.”