The teen shook her head. “Aya told me she’s enjoying practicing being more social anyway. I guess having me as her roommate is helping her come out of her shell. At least, that’s what she said.”
“Always good to help people improve.”
Wonder if I’m helping Brownstone improve at all? The guy still seems as clueless as ever when it comes to anything other than taking down bad guys.
Shay’s phone rang, and she pulled it out, surprised at the caller ID. She gave Alison an apologetic smile.
“It’s okay,” the girl told her. “I’m sure it’s important.”
The field archaeologist considered taking the call out of the room, but decided it was pointless to try and hide anything from a girl who could see into her soul and knew when she was lying. Alison didn’t need any more stress than she had already, between getting used to her new school and worrying about Brownstone.
“Hey, Peyton,” Shay said, rubbing her neck. “I was going to call you in a couple of days. I haven’t forgotten. I’m still working on making sure everything’s safe for you. Just got done with a job not all that long ago to earn a few favors to make that happen.”
Something rare flashed through the field archaeologist: guilt.
“Don’t worry about it,” Peyton reassured her. “I’m supposed to be dead, remember? Just like you. So big deal if it takes me a little longer to come back to life. I’ve got my Mountain Dew and pizza. It’s all good.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just… I’m going to help you. I want you to know that. I’ve got some people working on setting up a new life for you, but it’s been going slowly. I didn’t want to push too hard and maybe alert someone back East who might be looking for either of us.”
“I know you’ve got my back on this.” Peyton sighed. “Seriously, Shay, don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t have to pull me out of the crap, and I’ll be grateful until the day I die that I don’t have to continue working for the garbage that I’d been working for.”
“Maybe all this is just about me having a useful contact. Ever thought of that?”
“Bullshit. You don’t put yourself at that kind of risk for a researcher who is good with computers, especially when you’re changing into a career where those talents won’t be as useful. I don’t know why it bothers you so much to just admit you wanted to help me.”
“Okay, okay.” Shay sighed. “That said, and not to be a bitch—or at least more of one—but what are you calling about, then?”
“I keep my ear to the ground to keep in practice. Just because I’m supposedly dead doesn’t mean I can’t collect info.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I spotted something I thought was interesting, and I just wanted to make sure you were aware of it because it has to do with your new best friend.” Peyton chuckled suggestively.
We’re not fucking. Not even sure Brownstone’s straight. And if he is, he absolutely redefines clueless.
“Brownstone?” Shay frowned.
“Yeah.”
“What about him?”
“Not him, exactly. It’s just that an organizational dead-or-alive bounty just went out for the Harriken in LA.”
Shay gasped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope. Just thought you should know.”
“I wonder if he knows.”
“Probably,” Peyton replied. “The dude is a bounty hunter.”
“Thanks, Peyton. I’ll be in touch.” Shay pressed End and stared at the phone for a moment.
Alison cleared her throat, drawing Shay’s attention. “What was that about James?”
“A friend of mine let me know there’s effectively dead-or-alive bounties now on every Harriken in LA.” Shay watched Alison for a moment, awaiting her reaction.
The teen’s expression didn’t change. “That means James is going to go kill them all, doesn’t it?”
Shay let out a long sigh and nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’d expect. I don’t quite understand what happened with the Marines and he hasn’t sent me a message about it yet, but from what I can tell that means the only people he has to worry about are the Harriken.”
The girl nodded. “Good.”
Shay eyed her. “Good?”
“They are bad men, and they shouldn’t have tried to hurt James, and they shouldn’t have hurt my mom. Now they’ll get what’s coming to them.” Her expression darkened, and she turned away.
Shay didn’t respond, struck by how well the girl was taking the whole thing. It was like she was growing up right in front of her eyes. But at the same time, the idea that Alison might grow into a jaded woman like herself didn’t sit too well with her.
Alison pulled the towel off her head and Shay bit down on the gasp that threatened to emerge. The girl had been in the shower when Shay’d returned from talking with the school staff, which meant the woman hadn’t had a chance to look for any changes; not that she would have expected any.
The teen’s hair had grown several inches overnight. Now, instead of a few white tips at the end of her black hair, she had inches of white hair.
Shay’s stomach tightened. She didn’t know enough about magic, Oricerans in general, or Drow in particular to begin to understand how the girl might be influenced by her mother’s side.
After seeing the aftermath of the carnage Alison’s mother had meted out to the Grayson mercenaries, even a hardened ex-killer like Shay couldn’t help her being a bit worried. People’s ability to deal death and destruction used to be limited by strength and technology, but Oriceran magic had changed everything.
Was something of her mother coming out in her, or was this just how the Drow were? Alison seemed much more bloodthirsty than Shay’d seen her in a while.
No. She’s at this school. They’ll help her control shit, and it’s not like she doesn’t have a right to be pissed at the Harriken. She’s...not me. And she won’t turn into me. Brownstone and I will make sure of it.
Shay stared at the girl, troubled.
21
The wind howled over the rooftop. Other than the wind, the weather was nice. No clouds. No rain. Not too hot. Not too cold. It was perfect weather to annihilate the Harriken.
James’ phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the text message.
Perimeter secure.
He nodded to himself and laid down behind the sniper rifle he’d set up on the rooftop, which was a couple hundred yards from the Harriken’s temporary headquarters. They had taken over a six-story building in the financial district.
Before he charged in, he needed to take out their snipers.
Thanks to the anonymous message he’d received, he knew the most likely positions of the enemy snipers, or at least he believed he did. Now it was time to find out if someone was trying to set him up.
James wasn’t worried that the snipers wouldn’t be ready and waiting to shoot him. He knew they’d already be set up, especially since he’d made a point of calling the Harriken building to tell them he was coming—though mostly he’d wanted his enemy to be afraid. More than that, he needed them to be afraid.
The Harriken had destroyed his simple life, and he was going to show them why that had been the worst mistake their group had ever made.
James glanced through the scope, moving the rifle from target to target. Four snipers, right where his mystery informant had indicated. The Harriken valued face-to-face combat almost as much as he did, which would make clearing out their few long-range defenses easy.
He lined up the shot on the first sniper, who was pacing near a window on the fourth floor. The rifle cracked, and James didn’t even wait to see the man go down before he lined up the next shot and jacked another round into the chamber.
The next sniper rushed to the window just in time to take a .50-caliber round in the head. Whether from hearing the shots or a radio transmission, the third man seemed to realize what was going on. He had already turned to run when James took him out.
At least they were going down quickly.
/>
James lined up his final shot only to find the other sniper ready for him, rifle resting on the rail of a balcony and aiming his way. The Harriken sniper adjusted his aim slightly.
Shit. He’s got a bead on me.
James squeezed off a shot, and the enemy sniper fired half a second later. Deadly lead whizzed by a mere inch from James’ face, the warmth of the bullet making the hair on his neck stand up. It hit the roof of the building with a loud plink, sending up a spark.
Fucking hell, that had been too close.
See, Trey? Sometimes it’s just about getting lucky. Of course, I’m sure Nana would have just marched in there and deflected their rounds with her cane like some sort of Jedi.
James rolled to the side and peered through the scope. The enemy sniper was slumped over the rail, head hanging and blood dripping down to the street below.
The bounty hunter hopped to his feet and snatched his preloaded tactical harness. He slipped it on and took a moment to verify his loadout: weapons, ammunition, grenades, knives, and potions.
“Just like Shay hates,” James mused as he pulled his torn and shabby gray coat from the rooftop next to him and grinned. It wasn’t like he needed to hide his weapons this time, but he was beginning to wonder if this kind of coat might be a good luck charm for him.
He lifted the rifle from its mount and slipped it into its bag. The mount followed, and then he zipped the bag closed. The police would recover the weapon later if he couldn’t.
Time to do this shit.
James threw the door open to the stairwell and stepped inside, then reached under his shirt and yanked away the piece of metal separating the amulet from his chest. The bounty hunter gritted his teeth; pain spread from the contact point and swept over his body as the amulet sank into his chest, and soon an inferno of pain engulfed his entire body.
He took a few deep cleansing breaths as the pain began to ebb. The now familiar if still unintelligible whispers rose in his mind.
The bonding process was complete once again.
James made his way down the four flights of stairs and then out through the lobby to the street. Police vehicles and police officers had created a perimeter around the Harriken building and a dozen drones patrolled the skies.
He made his way toward a now-familiar detective in a Kevlar vest: Delroy Washington.
“Detective.” James nodded politely.
The Gang Task Force detective nodded back. “We already took out their security drones, so you just have to clean out the inside.” He gestured to a nearby line of cops. “Just to be clear, Brownstone, no one’s here to save your ass. We’re here to make sure no one stumbles into this and gets caught in the crossfire. If this shit goes south a lot of cops—including me—are going to look like dumbasses, and it’s not going to make us happy with you.”
James grunted. “I was gonna do this with or without your help, so don’t worry about it.” His gaze flicked over to two AET vans parked farther back. Black-armored AET team members stood in front of the vans, weapons at the ready. Most wore helmets, but a brown-haired woman who was still holding her helmet glared at him.
The bounty hunter nodded toward the woman. “This isn’t gonna be one of those times where the cops arrest my ass at the end, right? That AET chick over there seems like she’s aching to take me down.”
“Lieutenant Hall doesn’t trust you, and yeah, she pretty much is aching to take you down.” Detective Washington shrugged. “But if you limit the violence and destruction to the Harriken, she’s only going to be able to make sure you have to pay some fines for your antics the last few days.”
“’Antics?’ You mean trying not to get killed?”
The detective chuckled. “Whatever you want to call it, Brownstone.”
James sighed and rubbed the back of the neck. “I guess I better earn a lot of bounty money taking out these Harriken, then.”
“You better. You should see the list of fines we already have for your ass.”
“Is it a—”
“We’ve got movement,” yelled a uniformed officer.
The police reacted as one, readying weapons and setting up behind their vehicles. Lieutenant Hall slapped on her helmet and the red goggles started glowing a few seconds later. She picked up an assault rifle with a grenade launcher attached.
James yanked a .45 from a shoulder holster.
Frontal assault? Who do you guys think you are? Me?
About ten people ran out of the building and the police all leveled their weapons at them.
“This is the LAPD,” announced a voice from a large drone’s speaker. “Advance with your hands up. Do not make any sudden movements.”
The people all put their hands up, but they didn’t slow down. As they got closer it became clear they weren’t a threat, and most of the police lowered their weapons.
These weren’t Harriken enforcers with guns and swords charging the police in a brave frontal assault, but rather scared women, some in kimonos and some in business attire.
“We knew there might be non-combatants inside,” Washington told him, “but we didn’t have intel on how many.”
James nodded. “At least the Harriken have a small slice of honor.”
The detective looked at James. “That going to stop you from killing them all?”
The bounty hunter shrugged. “You guys were the ones who pushed a dead-or-alive bounty.”
“Just asking.”
“Nope. They die. Showing a little honor at the end is bullshit when they were willing to kidnap a little girl and did murder my dog.”
He watched as the women made it to the police line and the officers ushered them to safety behind the police cars.
James waited about thirty more seconds, and when there was no more movement he stepped forward.
“Brownstone,” Detective Washington called. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. Is the surprise ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait until I’m almost to the doors, then do it.”
You let the innocent people go. Good. That tells me you understand you’re gonna die. Good.
You should have just left me the fuck alone.
Jiro glared at the phone in his hand, wishing his conversation partner was in the room with him so he could shove his sword through the cowardly and dishonorable son-of-a-whore’s stomach.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ikeda,” the senator replied. “There’s nothing I can do. I took steps in the past to ensure this sort of thing wasn’t applied to you, but it’s out of my hands this time.”
“Nothing you can do? You have allowed a dishonorable bounty to be placed on my people. We do not pay you for such annoyances to occur. You would not have been re-elected without our financial support—and our taking care of the witnesses to some of your indiscretions.”
The senator cleared his throat. “This isn’t my fault, and it’s not like I have control of everything in the state. You were supposed to keep this shit under control. If you hadn’t tried to turn Southern California into a damned war zone none of this ever would have happened. You couldn’t be satisfied with drugs, smuggling, and prostitution?”
“You will show me respect me, Senator,” Jiro hissed. He took a deep breath. “Your very poor quality of service forces me to modify our agreement. We will need to seek someone else—someone who keeps his word—and we will consider disposing of those who don’t.”
The senator laughed. “You’re threatening me now, Ikeda? You won’t be around tomorrow to worry about me, but if by some miracle you do survive, call me. I’m sure we can work something out. Good luck.”
Jiro slammed the phone down so hard the receiver cracked. The senator would die as soon Brownstone was dealt with, and the Harriken leader would make sure the man suffered greatly first.
Such disrespect would not be tolerated.
Jiro stared down at the bandaged stump where his left hand used to be. He couldn’t fail. Death awaited him, and with torture beforehand for repeat
ed failure. The death of a single man would redeem his honor.
His gaze flicked to the monitor on his desk, which was displaying security camera feeds. He spotted Brownstone walking with slow deliberation toward the plaza in front of the building.
“You are brave, Brownstone,” Jiro murmured. “No one will deny that, but that doesn’t change the fact that I must kill you.”
Jiro took several deep breaths, his heart thundering and his palm sweaty. His men had their orders, and he’d brought in reinforcements from all over the country. This was where the Harriken would make their stand in the United States. This was where they would prove why they were powerful.
The slain Harriken in Los Angeles had taken Brownstone lightly and paid for it, but those here would make him pay for every inch of this building. Engaging the man outside where police snipers or drones might help him was foolish, but it wasn’t hard to notice the police seemed reluctant to join Brownstone in his direct invasion.
He’s only one man, and he will die. Then what? Will you come and arrest us? Would you dare after we kill your champion?
The Harriken leader pressed a button on his desk.
“Yes, Mr. Ikeda?” a man responded over the intercom.
“Make sure the special teams have the necessary artifacts. Today James Brownstone dies and we reclaim the honor of the Harriken.”
“Yes, Mr. Ikeda!”
Jiro watched, his eyes narrowed, as Brownstone closed on the building. The lights and computer suddenly died, and a few seconds later dim emergency lighting kicked in, painting the room in eerie red light.
“We will not run, Brownstone,” the Harriken leader muttered. “And I will personally deliver your head to Grandfather.”
22
James fired several rounds to shatter the glass of the front door and threw a grenade inside. He spotted the red-tinged outlines of several Harriken diving to the side.
Eye For An Eye: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 3) Page 16