“Go in the right direction, and we’ll find him. The farther we move from the city, the easier it’ll be for us to confront him without interference.” Zavan looked out the window as a car passed him. “Soon we will force Brownstone to tell us where the princess is. Then we can leave this wretched planet and punish Brownstone for ever daring to interfere with the Drow.”
What the fuck? This is the right address, but this can’t be the place.
The door above the bell jingled as James stepped into Lake Treasures Pawn Shop. Dingy metal shelves filled with a variety of goods lined the cramped room, and a bored-looking woman with an unruly mop of brown hair sat behind a glass window. The window broke up the gate that otherwise blocked off the back half of the store. The bottom of the window was set atop a folding panel.
Several pistols and rifles hung on the wall in the back. A long, thin red wooden wand hung near the far end of the wall.
It couldn’t be an actual wand, could it? Shit, I don’t know how that works anyway.
The clerk’s jaw worked a thick wad of bubblegum as she stared at her phone. Other than a quick glance upon James’ entry, she hadn’t bothered to look his way or acknowledge his existence.
James walked over to the window. The woman continued looking at her phone until the bounty hunter cleared his throat.
The clerk tapped the phone and set it on the counter. “You ever watch The Real Dwarf Mafia of New York?”
James shook his head. “I only watch cooking shows.”
“I just started watching it. It’s a reality show. They follow these dwarf guys around New York. They never say they are mobsters, but they sure are talking about some shady shit. My cousin Sheila says it’s all fake, but I’m like, how could it be fake? I mean, these dwarves would curse the guys if they were making shit up.”
“Who knows? Got plenty of other mafias in New York. Why not add one more?”
The clerk grinned and blew a bubble. It popped, and she slurped the gum back in. “What can I do you for, hon?”
James didn’t like lying to random people, but the Professor had a plan, and giving a fake name was a key part.
“My name is Jake Greystone. I’m here to pick up something.”
“Oh, yeah. Wondering when you would show up. Just need you to pay the rest.”
James frowned. The woman expected him, but he had a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea that such a dangerous magical object would be in some seedy Lake Havasu City pawn shop.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, ready to make an electronic transfer. “How much?”
“Fifty.”
Shit. Fifty thousand? This is why the fucking Professor should have told me how much it’d be.
The clerk popped her gum again. “Hey, hon, you would be doing me a real favor if you wouldn’t pay using a fifty-dollar bill. Need some change. Five tens would be great.”
“Five tens?” James blinked.
Not fifty thousand dollars. Fifty dollars. So not only was he picking up a dangerous magical object from a pawn shop, but he was doing it for fifty dollars. Even counting the Professor’s deposit, that made a grand total of a hundred dollars.
James put his phone back in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Sorry. I’ve got two twenties and a ten.”
“Hey, better than nothing.” The woman opened the panel at the bottom of the window.
James slid the bills over to her.
“One sec, hon.” She closed the panel and disappeared into the back room. A minute later she returned, a small ceramic figurine of a crying clown in hand. She passed it under the window.
“Here you go, Jake. Glad you got your clown back. Family heirloom?”
James grunted. “Yeah, some shit like that.” He picked up the figurine and shook his head. “Weird.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Was just thinking about something else.” James gave the woman a nod and made his way out of the store, the bell jingling again.
The nigh-indestructible super magic item was an ugly-ass clown figurine. It didn’t feel warm to the touch, glow, or move on its own. Some wizard had a good sense of humor.
James threw open the passenger door and opened the glyph-covered lead box. He tossed the figurine inside and closed the box before making his way around to the driver’s seat.
He slipped the key into the ignition. “Hope this shit works. Otherwise, it’s a long way back to LA.”
The engine turned over without trouble; no strange pulses, no demons, no fireballs blasting out of portals.
“Nice,” James mumbled to himself. “For once, shit is going all right.”
He pulled the truck out of the parking lot and onto the road. The lack of a pitched battle with a pissed-off wizard meant he had plenty of time to hit up a barbeque place.
Nice to have a trip that doesn’t end with shit blowing up.
Maria’s desk phone rang. She stopped her work on the budget increase form she’d been filling out to pick up the phone.
“Lieutenant Hall, AET.”
“Lieutenant,” answered a receptionist over the phone. “There’s a call for you from the Oriceran Consulate. It’s the consul.”
“Put him right through.”
The line clicked.
“Hello?”
Someone cleared their throat on the other end. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant. We didn’t get a chance to talk directly when you spoke with my staff previously.”
“That’s okay. The information he provided on the Drow was useful in verifying some of my concerns.”
“Yes, about the Drow…”
Maria frowned. “What about them?”
“It’s come to my attention that there was previously Drow activity in this area. I apologize for this not being made clearer. Some of the staff aren’t always the most diligent when it comes to our records.”
Yeah, right. Just because I’m not magical doesn’t mean I’ll fall for that bullshit lie, asshole.
“No big deal. I’m less concerned with past Drow visits than current ones.”
The silence stretched so long Maria thought she’d been disconnected. “Hello? You still there?”
The consul sighed on the other end. “Because of the concerns you raised, I’ve been having my people pay closer attention to unusual magic in the greater Los Angeles area. They’ve been able to confirm there are three Drow in the county. Although it’s difficult to track them, they are currently heading east toward the Inland Empire at a high rate of speed.”
You fuckers have known all along, haven’t you? Finally decided to play nice? Maybe figured you couldn’t handle it?
She kept her voice level when she spoke. “Can you track them specifically, like give me coordinates or something like that, so I can task a drone?”
“No, I’m sorry, Lieutenant. It was mere fortune that we have been able to track them at all. I strongly suspect they’re trying to keep a low magical profile.”
“Any description of the Drow or their vehicle?”
“I’m sorry. That information isn’t available at this time. I’d pass it along if I had it.”
Would he? “Okay, thanks anyway. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
“Of course. Goodbye, Lieutenant Hall.” The consul hung up.
Maria stood and tried to decide her next move. The Drow were leaving her jurisdiction, but she had no idea where they were going. She couldn’t put out an APB or call the highway patrol on three unidentified suspects in an unidentified vehicle, but if she let one Drow in, there went the neighborhood.
Or the entire West Coast.
“Why are they going east? Wait, where the fuck is Brownstone right now?”
20
James relaxed at a table on the patio and munched down on pulled pork. The lead box with the Clown of Doom sat next to him, but the delicious savory flavors of the meat and sauce in his mouth killed any lingering worries about the artifact.
He’d never been to Rebel BBQ, but he enjoyed a p
lace that had a smoker right out front. It proved their confidence. They weren’t hiding anything from anyone.
Almost every table was filled with people smiling and enjoying their barbeque. Another good sign of quality.
James swallowed another bite and chuckled.
Shit. Someday I could see myself running a place like this. No fucking Clown of Doom or body-jumping necromancers or Drow, except Alison.
What would Shay say to that? Probably, “You can’t run a restaurant, dumbass.”
A couple next to him noticed his stupid grin, grabbed their food, and moved inside.
Some people just couldn’t handle a happy man.
The Porsche screamed down the highway, Reyal’s hands tight around the wheel. Zavan’s risk of another tracking spell might have alerted someone, but it was worth it.
She whipped around several cars. Their suppression spell should keep police attention off the vehicle as long as they drove by them fast enough. This was one of the few times she’d found technology helpful for magic. It’d also protect against scrying and most tracking spells as long as they kept moving fast.
Their previous directional woes were a minor concern. The important thing was that Brownstone was still far away from Los Angeles and whatever allies he had gathered there. His trip out of the city had decided his cruel fate.
We’re coming, James Brownstone. Prepare to face the full might of the Drow.
The sultry podcaster’s voice drifted from the F-350’s speaker. “Men and women might be different, but it’s important to realize those differences aren’t a matter of superiority or inferiority. They are complementary, not competitive. A perfect couple is a harmony of the masculine and the feminine in both parties.”
Huh. Both Shay and I do like to kick a lot of ass. Is that masculine? We’re both protective. Isn’t that kind of more a mothering thing? So is it feminine? Fuck if I know.
The podcast cut out as his text alert chimed. He’d been expecting one from Shay since he’d already sent off a text to her explaining how he was already on his way back home and there had been no trouble. The text wasn’t from his girlfriend, but rather another woman he had a difficult relationship with.
Lieutenant Hall.
Call me ASAP, Brownstone.
It was still hard to wrap his mind around working with a woman who’d hated his guts and probably wanted to kill him until recently, but he wasn’t going to turn down backup. Especially AET backup.
James dialed her number, and she answered on the first ring.
“Where are you at this exact moment, Brownstone?”
“I-10E on my way back to LA from Arizona, but I’m several hours away. I had some shit to do in Lake Havasu City. Why?”
“Fuck. You’re too damned far away.” She sounded almost concerned for him.
“What’s going on?”
“Got Drow heading east out of LA. I think they’re finally making their move.”
James grunted. That was what he got for thinking the job would be easy. “How many?”
“Best I can tell, three. Let me tell you, Brownstone, these are serious bastards. Just one of them came close to taking out my entire team, and we were geared up and ready. These are three nuclear bombs we can’t have going off anywhere near civilians. Agreed?”
One hand tightened around the wheel. The other went to his chest. The amulet rested under his shirt, still separated from his skin by a metal divider. At least he had a chance to win with it.
Guess we’re gonna see if a space alien is worth three magical aliens.
“Agreed,” James replied, his voice deeper and more grinding than normal. “You think they are tracking me directly, or just heading my way?”
“Don’t know, but I’m going to assume they are tracking you directly.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah,” James offered. “That means I can lead them somewhere real deserted.” He furrowed his brow. “How about I head toward the Salton Sea?”
“That’s a good choice. I remember when that place was still worth the name. These days it’s mostly empty of people and water. You do what you need to do. I’m going to pull some strings and scramble to catch up. If those Drow are after you, at least you could fight out there without a bunch of civilians getting hurt.”
James took a deep breath. “You said you’ll catch up?”
“Yeah. AET doesn’t have long-range aircraft. Have to figure something out.”
“But you are planning to help?”
Maria snorted. “Yeah. We’ve had our differences, but that doesn’t mean I want some assholes from Oriceran killing you. Like I said at the station, my eyes have been opened lately. I’m not saying we’re going to be best friends, Brownstone, but we should at least try to work better together.”
“Fair enough. But what happens if the Drow don’t show up?”
“I doubt we’ll get that lucky.”
“Maybe. But I’ve got shit to do. I can’t sit in the middle of nowhere all damned night.”
Maria laughed. “Suck it up, Brownstone. I’ll have my guys bring some marshmallows that you can have if you don’t die.”
Trey, Shorty, Max, and Kevin all sat around the police conference table in black suits. Trey, Shorty, and Max looked relaxed, but Kevin kept tugging at his collar.
“I can’t believe we have to wear this shit. Yo, man, I told you I didn’t want to wear no suit.”
Trey snorted. “I’d beat your ass, but we’re in a police station. We’re not representing some punk-ass street gang no more. We’re representing the Brownstone Agency. These are official colors, bitch. This, or navy blue. Get used to it.”
Charlyce cleared her throat. “Trey, you don’t need to talk to him like that.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. His aunt was right. It was time to become Smooth Trey for the cops.
Detectives West and Lafayette filtered into the room. They headed over to Trey to shake his hand, and then made their way down the line to the other men.
“Pleasure to meet you and your men, Mr. Garfield.”
“Likewise, Detective.” Trey pointed to his boys in turn. “Shorty, Max, and Kevin.”
Damn, Shorty needs a new nickname. Wonder if they are gonna take us seriously with a guy named Shorty.
The cops finished shaking hands and moved over to the front of the table. “We’re handling this for now because it was our idea, but in the future, we won’t be your main contacts because we’re homicide detectives. Sergeant Choi in Bounty Processing will be your primary contact. You’ll be meeting with him in about twenty minutes. We might work more closely with you in cases where you’re going after people wanted in connection with open homicide cases, though.”
Trey offered a cool nod even as his heart tried to gallop out of his chest. He’d gotten used to the respect of Sergeant Mack, but he’d had contact with the man even before the Brownstone Agency. These two detectives in a new city were giving their respect without knowing anything other than that Trey and the boys were bounty hunters.
Shit, I have really done it. Trey the gang leader is gone.
Shorty set down the rib he’d chomped on his plate and blinked several times. “Damn, Brownstone’s always going on and on about this Jessie Rae’s, but I thought it was just bullshit, but this…damn. I think I should marry this sauce and have little sauce babies.”
Trey laughed. “That’s why they call it God Sauce. Why do you think my big man is always is coming here, Shorty?”
The men and Aunt Charlyce all clustered around two tables in the small dining room, enjoying several pounds of ribs and pulled pork as part of their celebratory early dinner. After their meeting at the police station, they’d found a small office unit with a loft living space attached. It’d be the perfect headquarters for the small visiting Las Vegas teams. If they started bringing in more people in the future, they could figure out something else. At least they’d already be established.
“That was crazy, yo,” Kevin commented after polishing off the last bite of his first pulled pork sandwich. “I kept expecting those 5-0 to try and bust our asses, not show us all that respect.”
Shorty and Max nodded their agreement.
Trey shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell y’all. Things are different now. We’re on Team Brownstone. We stay with him, and we show our respect. The cops will show their respect back, especially when we bring down these nasty-ass criminals with bounties.”
“You say it like it ain’t no big deal, Trey,” Kevin responded. “But I ain’t never had a cop be so polite to me.”
“Give respect, you get respect. That’s what Mr. Brownstone does, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”
The owner of Jessie Rae’s, Michael, stepped out from the back and headed over to their tables. “Sorry to have eavesdropped, but I couldn’t help but overhear a few things.” He smiled at Shorty. “And thanks for appreciating the food.”
Shorty grinned. “Thanks for making it, man.”
Michael returned his attention to Trey. “I didn’t realize everyone here worked for James.”
Charlyce gave Michael a bright smile. “That’s right. We’re all part of the Brownstone Agency. James talks this place up so much I had to bring the boys to show them the truth. Hell, I think we’re going to be spending a lot of time here in the future.”
“Any friends of James Brownstone are friends of mine.” Michael glanced at a photo showing him and James at a barbeque competition. “And going forward, any employee of the Brownstone Agency will get a ten percent discount.”
Aunt Charlyce clapped her hands together. “Oh, that is so generous of you.” She picked up her phone and started tapping away at it, her brow furrowed.
“Small price to pay. I’m sure by the time you guys are done, there won’t be any crime left in Vegas.”
Everyone laughed, and a huge grin split Trey’s face.
Look out, Las Vegas. Trey Garfield and his boys are here.
Fight Fire With Fire: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 7) Page 15