The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus 3

by Michael Anderle

  Trey shrugged. “Manuel’s on his way with the anti-magic gear, and I don’t want to move on any more level fours without that anyway. That shit was too close. If we’re all geared up, chances of getting hurt are less.”

  “Fair enough, although I won’t let the next few surprise me with a car like that.” The witch shrugged and returned to looking through bounties on her phone.

  Trey watched her for a moment for any hint of anger, but her expression appeared more focused than annoyed. He’d seen her quit a job over disrespect, and he wanted to make sure she understood that he respected her abilities but didn’t want to risk people’s lives from arrogance.

  His phone rang with a call from James, forcing his attention away from the witch.

  “What’s up, big man?” Trey answered. “We’re in Sin City preparing to beat down sinners, and there’s so many.”

  “I need you to do me a favor,” James rumbled, dark menace underlying his words. “It involves Vegas and a beat-down.”

  Trey pulled the phone back to stare at it for a second with a frown.

  What the fuck? Big man sounds pissed. He always kind of sounds pissed, but he sounds kick-someone-through-the-wall pissed.

  “Sure, what do you need?” Trey replied. “We’re not rolling back home anytime soon. Got plenty of time to deliver Brownstone justice to whoever be needing it.”

  “Go to Jessie Rae’s. Mike needs help,” James growled. “Someone made a big mistake. His place was robbed.”

  Trey shot out of his seat. “Motherfuckers!”

  “Exactly.” James let out an even lower growl. “Do what you can, but keep things going with the other bounties. The police are still depending on us, but I consider robbing Jessie Rae’s a personal matter. It needs to be handled.”

  “It’s not a problem, big man. I’ll personally make sure it’s taken care of.” Trey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you want to be here when it goes down?”

  “Yes, unless you find out the fucker is going to skip town,” James replied. “Make sure he doesn’t get away, though. We can’t have criminals fucking with Jessie Rae’s. They need to understand that place is under our protection.”

  “It ain’t no big thing. I’ll find the fuckers that did this and make them understand why they don’t fuck with barbeque. Talk to you soon.”

  James’ only response was an angry grunt.

  Trey hung up the phone and shook his head before looking around the table. Everyone stared at him expectantly.

  “Some dumb motherfucker robbed Jessie Rae’s,” Trey explained.

  The other men frowned, muttering dark things centered around improbable anatomical rearrangements. Victoria eyed them but said nothing.

  Lachlan set his phone down and curled his hands into fists. “We getting involved?”

  Trey took a few cleansing breaths to calm his pounding heart. “Here’s how we’re gonna work it. Big man still wants the show to go on, so I’m gonna go chat with Mike about this shit, and the rest of you can take out every level-two motherfucker you can get your hands on in the meantime. Three of you plus Victoria should make that shit easy, but remember how it goes. Sometimes they surprise you.” He smirked at the witch. “I remember when what was supposed to be a simple bounty turned into a showdown with a witch.”

  She smirked back at him.

  Trey marched over to the coat rack by the front door. “And text me when Manuel gets in.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Trey stood behind Jessie Rae’s eyeing the charred hole in the back door where a lock used to be.

  “Even though the cops have already checked it out,” Mike explained, “I didn’t want to replace it until James had a look at it, but you’re fine, too.”

  Trey narrowed his eyes and squatted by the hole. “This ain’t your standard-issue bitch-ass thief. Either someone used some real fancy shit or magic.” He rubbed his chin. “That’s a good thing, though.”

  Mike frowned. “A good thing?”

  Trey stood. “Narrows it down. Lots of punk-ass bitches with crowbars and guns, not as many with magic. Anything else you think might be helpful?”

  Mike sighed and shook his head. “Other than the pictures I sent you, I don’t know much. The cameras were fine when the asshole stepped up to the back door, and suddenly there was static. The static cleared and the hole was there, and he went inside. Caught him on camera coming in and out several times.”

  The thief in the pictures looked young, probably in his twenties, and had a fit build, but there was nothing all that special about him with his jeans and gray T-shirt. He reminded Trey of a guy from his neighborhood he didn’t like, Rudy, but it was mostly just some similarities in the face. Rudy’s game had been drug dealing, not theft.

  Bitch probably would have stolen from Jessie Rae’s. Fuck you, Rudy, and fuck you, thief bitch. You’ve got Trey Garfield coming for you. Me and the big man are gonna knock on your door and ruin your day. How do you like that?

  Mike glared at the hole. “I don’t understand. Why would someone who can use magic rob me? They can use damned magic.”

  “You’d be surprised at the shit I’ve seen in this job.” Trey shook his head. “Powers don’t always mean shit when it comes to making a living. And scum are scum, magic or otherwise. What did the police say?”

  “They’re trying their best, but it’s not like I’m the only guy to get robbed in Vegas lately.” Mike shrugged. “Underpaid and overworked. I gave them the pictures and camera footage and they ran facial recognition, but they said the guy’s not in any local or national police databases. Doesn’t have a driver’s license, either. They couldn’t find any DNA or fingerprints, and they’re not going to bring in magical forensics for a restaurant robbery.”

  Trey snorted. “Just because this thief ain’t in some databases and has a few magic tricks don’t mean he’s gonna get away with it. I guaran-fucking-tee you that on behalf of the Brownstone Agency. We can call on people the 5-0 can’t. We’ll find out who this guy is and track his ass down.”

  Mike shook his head. “He cleaned out the register and stole a TV, but that’s not the worst part. He stole several competition trophies and plaques I had on display. The asshole made several trips. It’s not like they’re worth a lot if you sold them, but those mean a lot to me. They’re part of this restaurant. Part of my family’s legacy.”

  “Don’t you worry, Mike.” Trey cracked his knuckles. “The only reason the big man ain’t here tracking this bitch-ass down himself is that he’s got to beat down some magic cult motherfuckers, but I ain’t leaving Vegas until I find the guy, and then we’re gonna have a very loud and one-way conversation about proper respect.” He held up a hand. “And to make this clear. This is pure pro bono, you know what I’m saying? This ain’t just about thieves. This is about protecting barbeque and making people understand they don’t disrespect your restaurant.”

  “Thanks, Trey. I appreciate it.”

  Trey smiled. “And we appreciate all the fine barbeque you’ve fed us.”

  11

  James sat his with arms crossed beside Shay in the small Customs office. The Canadian Customs agent gave him a tight smile every few minutes as he skimmed through the information on the tablet in front of him, occasionally nodding or mumbling something to himself.

  The bounty hunter kept his breaths even and slow. He was already pissed about someone screwing with Jessie Rae’s, and now the Customs agents had kept him in processing at the Calgary International Airport for an hour. It was usually in and out.

  Maybe Shay was onto something about bad luck. How often do I need to kick ass to make sure I don’t have any?

  The Customs agent smacked his lips. “Mr. Brownstone, you’ve brought quite the impressive arsenal up north, eh?”

  James frowned. He hadn’t even brought any explosives. Shay hadn’t either. It wasn’t that much of an arsenal.

  “I’m a class-six bounty hunter going after a level-five bounty.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I c
an just ask them to surrender. I don’t understand. I precleared all this shi…stuff through normal channels. I’ve flown this kind of thing into Canada on jobs before, and it hasn’t taken this long.”

  Maybe the Customs guys are bigger dicks when it’s colder. Can’t blame them, but don’t want to sit in the airport all day.

  Shay sat there with a blank expression on her face.

  The Customs officer tapped his fingers on his desk next to his tablet. “Yes, Mr. Brownstone, I see that you have brought such weapons and equipment into the country before according to your records, but I also have some notes in this file that suggests you shouldn’t be authorized to bring this level of weaponry into Canada. Now, I get that you’re a bounty hunter, so it’s not like we’re going to charge you with smuggling or anything, but this may be a violation of our import laws.”

  James grunted. “You are fu…you’re kidding me.”

  The other man shook his head, a broad smile plastered on his face. At least he was pleasant while he was screwing James. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Mr. Brownstone. We’re going to have to keep all these items for the moment. You know, impound them. But don’t worry, you won’t be arrested. You’re free to go while we work all this out. As is Miss Carson.”

  Shay snorted but said nothing.

  “We won’t be arrested?” James gritted his teeth. “How nice of you.”

  Shay reached over to pat James’ hand and smile at him.

  Don’t worry, I’m not going to kick this guy through a window, Shay. Yet.

  The Customs agent nodded. “Yes. No arrests. Not a bad deal considering you came in with a bunch of illegal weapons, eh? If you want to appeal, feel free to go to the website and file the appropriate forms, but for now, you’re free to go. I hope you enjoy Calgary and the rest of Alberta.”

  Shay tugged at his arm. “Let’s go, James. There’s nothing we can do for now.”

  He stood, working his jaw and resisting the urge to smash the smiling man’s tablet over his head. He turned and threw open the door and stomped out, Shay close behind.

  They emerged from the waiting room and moved into a nearby hallway leading back to the main airport, James’ feet pounding the entire way. He glowered at everyone and everything, and several people shrank under his gaze. The minutes passed in silence as the pair made their way toward the rental car counters.

  Shay leaned toward him. “This is why smuggling’s still handy,” she whispered. “Sometimes when you do things the right way, you still get fucked.”

  James shrugged. “I don’t get it. I almost never have problems, and even when I do, they don’t impound all my shit. It’s just a few extra minutes or whatever. It’s been years since I’ve had this kind of problem.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t have blown Heather off. She was on to something.”

  “What do you mean? About someone tracking you?”

  He sighed. “The Professor must not have the influence up here he thinks.”

  Shay nodded. “So you think someone in the Canadian government is purposely fucking with you?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe. Somebody is.” James shrugged.

  They turned at an intersection. The density of nearby people increased.

  Shay sighed. “That would explain it. At least they know enough not to try and lock us up, and you still have your amulet, so you have the ultimate weapon if you need it.”

  James shook his head. “This is bullshit.” He frowned. “And I’m not relaxed. I was fine and relaxed in LA, and now I’m pissed off.”

  She laughed quietly. “Yeah, I get that, James. Bureaucracy—it’s the one enemy you can’t easily kill. We’ve got a few options, as I see it.”

  They turned again, passing the sea of humanity flowing past them as they closed on the rental car counters.

  “What options?” James asked.

  Shay held up one finger. “First, we can just ignore the lack of gear. We can go buy some additional coats and shit, and I can poke around and find someone willing to provide us with more useful offensive toys. There’s always someone.” She held up a second finger. “Or we can go directly to the refinery, and you do your thing with Whispy Doom, and I hope I can find something on one of their bodies.”

  James grunted. “We’re not going there unarmed. I might not be able to get close enough, and Whispy’s too damned unreliable.”

  “Okay, glad we agree on that.” Shay nodded. “Plus, for one thing, they have my Masamune, and we might need that bad boy since we’re dealing with magic. Next time I’m just smuggling it in. Anyway, that leaves us with our last major option.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Taking advantage of your fame and influence.” Shay smiled. “You forget who you are a lot.”

  James shrugged. “That guy knew who I was, but he didn’t give two fucks. Fame’s not gonna get my weapons back from Customs.”

  “He might have known who you are, but he doesn’t know who you know.” Shay shook her head. “Pull a few strings—maybe Senator Johnston. If not him, then we should consider Heather or Peyton doing something.”

  James furrowed his brow. “Don’t want them messing around with stuff when it looks like someone else already is. The fewer people who know we have them, the better.”

  “Senator Johnston it is. He owes us.”

  James pulled out his phone. “He might tell me to fuck off too. He’s a politician. He might already be planning to sell me out as part of his reelection campaign.”

  Shay snorted. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”

  “That is mighty suspicious, son,” Senator Johnston commented over the phone. “Though I suspect this is petty bullshit rather than conspiracy. I’ll contact some people in the Canadian government, but it is ultimately a foreign country. This might take a few hours, even with my influence.”

  James grunted. “But you think you can get our gear?”

  “Nothing’s certain in this world except death and taxes, but I’m on good terms with a lot of people up there. I suggest you relax in the meantime. I’ll call you when I have news.”

  “Thanks.” James ended the call and looked at Shay. “He says he’ll see what he can do, but it’ll take a while.”

  She shrugged. “It’s still pretty early in the day, and it’s only two hours to the site. So even if it takes him a few hours, we should be able to still hit the place with daylight on our side.”

  James shook his head. “Next time I’m sticking to the States when it’s supposed to be a relaxing job.”

  Shay laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s go pick up the rental.”

  The older man behind the counter at the rental car company passed the key fob over. “Here you go. One Jeep Ultra Wrangler, red, gasoline engine.” He sniffed disdainfully and handed a tablet to James. “You requested maximum insurance. Please review this document, sir.”

  James slipped the fob into his pocket and started reading the document. After a couple of minutes, he frowned and looked up. “This is the maximum package?”

  The employee nodded. “Yes, sir. Is that going to be a problem? Do you anticipate severe damage to the vehicle?”

  “I just like to be prepared, and I’m used to different insurance packages in California.” James shrugged.

  The other man narrowed his eyes. “I see. Well, I encourage you to be careful, and you won’t have any trouble. Have a nice day, and enjoy your visit to Calgary.”

  James turned and walked over to the waiting Shay.

  She chuckled. “Maybe I should just start shipping cars from my warehouse to job locations, so you don’t have to go through all this.” She smirked. “Not that I have fancy insurance for when you wreck them.”

  James frowned. “It’s fine. You never know what’s going to happen, but now I’m even more annoyed. It’s like everyone decided to piss on me on the same day.” He pulled out his phone. “Time to prove Trey wrong.”

  Shay arched a brow. “Prove Trey wrong about what?”

  James typed in a search que
ry of “best barbeque in Calgary” and waited for the results to pop up. “About Canadian barbeque.”

  Shay groaned. “I should have known.”

  James patted his stomach and slipped into the driver’s seat of the Jeep. “Damn. I have to say the Canadians are putting up a good fight with that kind of meat.” He smiled at the fenced-off long table and massive white letters above the building.

  HAYDEN BLOCK SMOKE & WHISKEY.

  “That was straight Texas-style, though,” he rumbled.

  “Alberta’s kind of like the Texas of Canada, so that fits.” Shay flicked a wrist after settling into her seat. “It was pretty good, I guess. For barbeque.”

  James shook his head. “Something’s wrong with your mouth for you to say things like that.”

  She smirked. “That wasn’t what you were saying the other night.”

  He grunted and looked away. Participating in the Bard of Filth competition didn’t mean he was fine with every dirty joke now, just that he understood them better.

  “Anyway,” James mumbled, “the senator’s text said everything should be taken care of, and to go pick up our gear. He said he wasn’t sure why they’d screwed with us, but it’d been indicated to him that it’d come up from someone higher up.”

  Shay nodded, a slight frown on her face. “Still wondering if we should wait a day.”

  James started the Jeep and pulled into the street. “Why? After all this frustrating shit, I want to get to the ass-kicking part.”

  “But there’s that storm system moving in.” Shay shrugged.

  James grunted. “I brought the parka, so who gives a shit if it snows? It’s annoying and cold, but we’re already here, so I don’t see the problem.”

  “I’m just saying our visibility will be reduced by a blizzard.” Shay pointed to her eyes. “I only brought one pair of AR goggles. Can’t kill what you can’t see.”

  James grunted. “I’ll be fine. I want to get this shit done sooner than later.”