“I’m Officer Silvers,” he announced as he entered the store. “Is everyone all right?”
The cashier pressed a button, and the glass partition slowly rose, accompanied by loud grinding. He pointed at a sniffling woman holding her husband. The man was conscious, but blood ran down the side of his head.
“Those maniacs were going to kill us all,” the woman shouted. “If it wasn’t for that large man I’d be dead!”
Officer Silvers nodded and headed over to the wounded man. “Sir, are you okay?”
The man looked up and winced. “I’ve felt better, but I’ll live.” He sat up. “The bastard just caught me by surprise, is all.”
“Let me call an ambulance, and then I’ll take all of your statements.”
Thirty minutes later a police van had picked up the suspects, the witness statements had been taken, and the injured man was at the hospital with his wife. All in all, it had been a pretty clean operation for an armed robbery where actual gunfire and property destruction had taken place.
The evidence all seemed to point to that being the case because of James Brownstone’s involvement. Every witness reported that the robbers had been about to execute the woman.
Officer Silvers was grateful no one had died, but that didn’t change the reality that he still needed a few things from Brownstone.
He slid into his police cruiser and looked at his partner. “We’ve got everything pretty much taken care of, but there’s one loose end.”
“What?”
“James Brownstone. We don’t have his statement.”
His partner sighed. “Are we sure it’s him?”
Officer Silvers snorted. “You know anyone else who looks like that who can do that sort of thing? He didn’t deny it when we used his name, either.”
“Do we need it? I mean, we got everyone else’s statement.”
“The captain’s already chewed my ass twice this month for incomplete paperwork.” Officer Silvers shook his head. “And yours, too, so we’re going to have to decide who we’re more afraid of—James Brownstone, or the captain.”
“Captain hasn’t personally wiped out any major gangs to my knowledge.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
“Still, I don’t want to get my ass chewed.” Officer Riviera looked out the window. “You said you know where Brownstone went?”
The other cop pointed into the distance. “Yeah, not exactly major detective work. There’s an In-N-Out burger over there, and he mentioned being hungry. Let’s go see if he’s still there.”
“What if he’s not?”
“Then we’ll figure something out.”
Officers Silvers and Riviera stepped into the In-N-Out burger, half-hoping the famous bounty hunter had already finished his meal and taken off. Pissing off a man who could throw two criminals through a window with ease wasn’t their idea of brave. It was just stupid.
Luck was a vengeful goddess that night. The wall of muscle sat at a table in the corner munching on a Double-Double, with the wrappers for a couple others wadded up in front of him.
Fuck, how much does this guy eat?
The police marched toward him. Both men’s hearts pounded.
Officer Silvers took a deep breath and swallowed. “Mr. Brownstone? Um, may we have permission to talk with you?”
The bounty hunter looked up from the table. “Sure. What did you need?”
“We…um… We kind of…need your statement.”
The cop’s heart thundered as he waited for the bounty hunter to pick him up and toss him through a window.
“Do I have to write anything?” Brownstone inquired.
Both cops shook their head.
Brownstone gestured toward the chairs across the table. “Then I’m more than happy to help. Sorry about walking off before, but I was just so damned hungry.” He munched on his Double-Double. “Ask me whatever.” He nodded toward the front. “You might want to grab some food first if it’s gonna be a while. I forgot how good these were. It’s not Jessie Rae’s, but it’s still a fine meal.”
Officer Silvers let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, that’s okay. We’ll just get the statement.”
10
Trey took a deep breath as he pulled the truck into the lot outside of the park. Even though he’d agreed to meet his aunt, he wanted to make sure it was somewhere she couldn’t immediately ask for money or easily ambush him, and a wide-open park was good a choice as any. Suspicion from both his time as a gang leader and his more recent time as bounty hunter refused to let his heart settle.
Never trust what someone tells you when they’re desperate. People lie even when they aren’t desperate.
A small spark of hope tried to push through the distrust and allow him to believe that the woman wanted something other than money. The spark flared into something brighter—the promise of new family.
Don’t get conned. This might not be anything. Her call was just as convenient as all the ones from all the other people suddenly interested in reconnecting with me.
Trey stepped out of his F-350 and started up a sidewalk leading to a small playground in the distance. The morning sun still hung low in the cloudless sky as he closed on the area. A woman in a faded blue dress sat on a bench. His heart skipped a beat.
Keep it cool. This could still be a trick. It might not even be Auntie Charlyce.
He continued up the path and closed on the bench. The woman turned to face him.
Trey sucked in a breath and his heart thundered. Seven years was a long time. It’d added lines to her face, and the hard living had probably added a few dozen more, but there was no doubt the woman sitting on the bench was his Aunt Charlyce.
He swallowed and approached the bench with his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. Verifying it was her didn’t change anything in his brain, but his heart didn’t want to listen.
“Hey,” Trey offered. He chuckled. “Long time, no see.”
Charlyce stood, trembling slightly. “I’ve been scared, Trey. All this time, but especially when you agreed to come. I’m not the woman you knew before, and I’m ashamed of that. It means a lot that you came, because I know you didn’t have to.”
Tears welled up in Trey’s eyes. Seven years. With his mother long gone, he’d only had his nana as far as close relatives went. Now a family member stood right in front of him, one he’d thought was long dead. It was like being given a gift he hadn’t even known he wanted.
The dam inside him broke, and he rushed forward to envelop the woman in a big, loving crush. Charlyce let out a yelp of surprise as Trey hugged her, saying nothing else for a good thirty seconds before breaking into sobs.
“I’m so sorry, Trey. I’m so sorry. I screwed up.”
Trey swallowed and pulled away from his aunt. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket to hand to her and dried his eyes on his sleeve.
“It don’t matter now,” he offered, his voice quivering. “I’ve screwed up a lot in my life, so I ain’t about to look down my nose at you. Someone offered me a hand up and he wasn’t even my family, so how can I not offer you a hand up?” He shook his head. “No family of mine is going to be living on the street when I can give them a room.”
“Bless you, boy. Bless you.” Charlyce dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. “I’m so sorry.”
Trey managed a smile. Bittersweet tears threatened to return, but he held them back. Not out of shame or pride—finding a lost loved one was more than enough reason to cry, but he didn’t want to make his aunt anymore upset than she was.
“Like I told you the other day,” Trey managed to get out, “Nana told me you had disappeared. I knew you drank a little bit too much, so I just always figured it was that.”
Charlyce sighed. “It started that way, but the problem was a boyfriend I was dating at the time. He convinced me of a lot of lies, like that he’d amount to something and that I should go with him. He’s the one who introduced me to heroin.”
Trey winced. “Damn.” His fac
e tightened. “This guy still around? I’d like to have a conversation with him.” His hands tightened into fists.
His aunt shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. Lost contact with him years ago, but it doesn’t matter. One thing I’ve learned is that I have to forgive others. He might be the one who introduced me to drugs, but I’m the one who kept taking them.” She sighed. “The years passed in a haze until eighteen months ago when I realized I needed to stop or I’d end up dead or with some disease. It took me a while to fight it, but now I’m clean. Been trying to save and looking into a job, but I know it’s gonna take a while. Not like people are eager to hire ex-addicts who still live on the street.”
Trey placed his hand on his shoulder. “Like I said, you’re coming back to LA with me. I know Nana will be happy to see you. Even though she told me you disappeared, I always knew she was sad and wanted to see you again.”
“You really think so?”
He nodded. “I know so. It’ll be good for us to be together again. We're family, and that means something.”
“But I failed her. I failed you. I failed everyone.”
Trey snorted. “Because you did some things you ain’t proud of? I bet you’d need to be on the streets for another seven years to catch up to me when it comes to that. It don’t matter. Family is family, and we’re gonna make sure you get back on your feet. I’ve got a good honest job now, where I help protect people. So I’m gonna help protect my auntie.”
Charlyce let out a contented sigh and smiled. She gestured toward his suit. “Look at you, big-time fancy bounty hunter on television. I always worried…” She shook her head. “It don’t matter now, I guess.”
“You’re right. I’m a bounty hunter now, and on the right side of the law. You might have been on the streets and taking drugs, but now you’re off drugs and soon you’ll be off the street. I know first-hand how when you give someone a chance they can turn into something better than they ever thought.” He took a few deep breaths and smiled.
Trey’s aunt pulled him in for another tight hug. They stayed that way for a long moment before separating.
Charlyce looked him in the eyes and nodded. “The person who gave you a chance—it’s him, right? James Brownstone?”
Trey gave her a quick nod. “Yeah.”
“I need to get in contact with him. Not about money, but about that demon I was telling you about.”
He held up a hand. “I can get a hold of my boss, but not before I get some food into you.” He gestured toward his truck. “Follow me.”
Charlyce fell in behind Trey as he headed toward the truck. When her head ducked for a moment, he sent a quick text to the big man.
I need a favor. Please call me when you get a chance.
The phone chimed only a few seconds later.
I can do you one better. Send me your address, and I can be there in half an hour.
Trey stared his phone and looked back at his aunt. “There a place to eat nearby?”
“There’s a Denny’s down the block.”
“We’ll hit that then.”
He grabbed the address from a map app and texted it to James.
I’ll be there with my aunt, and she needs your help.
The big man is in Vegas? I bet he came for that barbeque again.
Trey chuckled and shook his head. He didn’t care if it was divine providence, luck, or just the natural consequence of a barbeque obsession, but having James close by filled him with confidence. Even if the big man couldn’t help his aunt with her request, he’d already led her to Trey.
James Brownstone had not only pulled Trey away from a life of crime, but he’d also indirectly helped reunite his family.
Damn, James. Pace yourself!
Three suited men stepped into the dark abandoned warehouse, assault rifles at the ready. Sunlight streamed through the windows, cutting through the shadows and highlighting the thick clouds of dust floating in the air. Crates, stray bits of plastic, and broken mannequins covered the floor.
A dead building. The perfect place for a freak mutant to hide.
“Is this the right place?” one of the men asked.
The team leader nodded. “Yeah, Doctor Simmons said the sample would be within a few hundred feet of this location, based on what the satellite data said. Something about an energy signature. I don’t know the details. It’s all science shit. We’ll just have to find him in here.”
The third team member shook his head. “Stupid freak. It should have just stayed in the lab.”
“Should I have now?” interjected a hollow voice from a corner.
The three men spun, aiming their rifles. Glowing red eyes peered out of the darkness.
“Sample XJ422,” shouted the team leader. “We have orders to recover you for the lab, dead or alive. If you surrender immediately, we won’t gun your ass down.”
Laughter echoed in the cavernous space of the warehouse. “I am no longer Sample XJ422. I am Red Eyes. I am Death. I am Terror.”
“This is your last chance to surrender, freak.”
“You said too much before. Energy signature? This was their only chance of finding me. Once I kill you, I know what I have to do to hide.”
The shadows spread from the corner and the figure burst into a sprint.
“Light him up!” the team leader shouted.
Burst-fired bullets peppered the walls as the men tried to bring down their enemy. The shadows stopped spreading, and XJ422 leapt to the other side of the room, revealing his leathery and mottled naked body. A bullet struck him, and he hissed in pain.
The shadows cloaking the corners of the room vanished. It’d be a stretch to call the warehouse well-lit, but it was noticeably brighter than before.
Yeah. You’re not so tough, you freaky piece of shit.
The team leader grinned and fired another burst. He narrowly missed as the mutant jumped behind some crates. A trail of blood spots led right to his hiding place.
“That’s right, fucker. We’re not some idiot tourist with a tiny little pop gun. You should have surrendered, XJ422. At least the lab would have kept your sorry ass alive for a little while longer.”
The team leader reloaded and gestured to the two other men to advance. Disappointment stabbed his gut. He’d always wondered what it’d be like to take on one of the stronger mutants from the lab. Most he’d seen were useless freaks that couldn’t last more than a few days, but a few like XJ422 looked like more fun. What a damned waste.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the team leader sang. “I’m feeling nice. Come out with your hands up, and you still get to live…at least until you get back to the lab.”
A crate flew toward the team leader and he opened fire. The bullets ripped into the wood but didn’t do much to alter its course. The box slammed into him, and he fell with a grunt.
XJ422 leapt toward one of the team members, one of his arms now tipped with a bone blade and the other contorting into a barbed tentacle.
The unlucky team member managed to get off a single shot before the mutant cleaved his arm at the shoulder. The man screamed as he fell to the ground, blood gushing everywhere. The mutant finished him by ripping his heart out with the tentacle and tossing it to the ground.
“Fuck!” The team leader flipped his rifle to automatic and held down the trigger.
The sample jerked a few times, then yanked his dead team member up. Bullets ripped through the corpse, but a second later the team leader realized that XJ422 didn’t want the man’s body as a shield. The tentacle twisted and deformed into a leathery arm, and the sample threw the corpse toward the remaining members of the recovery team. The two men ducked out of the way.
The team leader brought up his rifle and squeezed the trigger again. The weapon clicked. Empty.
“Shit.” He backpedaled and ejected the magazine, reaching into his pocket for a second.
Blood coated the sample, both from its victim and several oozing bullet wounds. The team leader smiled as he slap
ped in the new magazine. They were winning. Mutant bullshit wasn’t a match for a good old-fashioned automatic weapon.
The smugness disappeared a few seconds later when XJ422 slashed open the neck of his remaining team member with a bone blade. There wasn’t a clear separation of head and body. Blood sprayed from the dying man’s neck, and his head flopped. He collapsed to the ground.
“You son of a bitch!”
The team leader held down the trigger again, spewing 5.56 bullets toward his bleeding enemy. He wasn’t going to die in an abandoned warehouse at the hands of some lab freak.
The sample jerked with each bullet, and its blood painted the ground. It collapsed to its knees and then onto its chest.
The team leader took several deep breaths. He’d done it. He’d killed the fucker.
He advanced on the corpse, grinning. He felt a little pity for the other men, but it wasn’t like he knew them well, and any battle he walked away from was a win.
“Should have taken my offer to go back to the lab, freak.”
The sample jumped up, and pain blasted through the man’s arm. He tried to pull his trigger, only to realize an agonizing few seconds later that his right forearm was missing and his gun was on the ground with his arm.
The humanoid creature in front of him licked his blood off the bone blade, then sliced his other arm off. The team leader fell to the ground screaming in pain.
XJ422 leaned over him, his red eyes glowing brighter than before. His wounds started to close.
“I listened in the lab, even when they thought I wasn’t. I know things they don’t think I know.” He knelt by the dying man and grinned, revealing a mouth filled with sharp fangs. “Plenty of animals eat, but they aren’t like me. They can’t assimilate DNA. None of the sheep before were worth it, but you’ve proven yourself worthy to become one with Death.” He licked his lips. “And you’ve brought me wonderful toys, too. I appreciate you providing me with support like this.”
When Angels Cry: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 6) Page 8