She inhaled, enjoying the mingling scents of sweat, perfumes, and colognes. The hunt always relaxed her.
A few of the businessmen leaned toward some nearby women and spoke to them. The Drow couldn’t make out what they were saying over the music, but the women recoiled after a moment and hurried away.
One of the men flipped them off. The rest of them spoke among themselves for a few seconds before heading to a nearby table off the dance floor.
Pathetic, but maybe even more useful.
Widowmaker grinned and moved forward, shaking her hips and moving with the music as she passed through the crowd and closed on the lone businessman. The wounded male ego was always the easiest to manipulate. It didn’t matter what species the male was.
A glint of gold on his finger caught her attention. A married man. That meant her little jaunt wouldn’t be a waste of time. Others might find her methods brutal, but her limited choice of targets spoke to her restraint; an elegant choice that reinforced the importance of honor.
All he has to do is honor his vows. He’ll make his own choice. It’ll be his own fault.
The Drow closed on the dancing man. His eyes widened and he smiled as she ground against him. They moved together to the beat.
The businessman slipped his arms around her waist and leaned close to her ear. “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like a young Angelina Jolie?”
Widowmaker forced a giggle. She doubted he could detect the insincerity, given the stink of alcohol hovering around him.
“Thanks. You’re pretty good-looking yourself.” The Drow did a little spin. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Charles, but everyone calls me Chuck.”
“Angie,” she lied.
“Seriously?”
Widowmaker nibbled her lip and shrugged. “Funny how things work out.”
Chuck laughed. “Yeah.”
I have him.
“I come here all the time,” she said. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
The easiest way to get a man to do exactly what you wanted was to put him on the defensive. Men, human or otherwise, were simple creatures, desperate to prove themselves.
“I’m not from LA. I’m here for a conference, just here for a few days.” Chuck raised his eyebrows in a pathetic attempt at being seductive. “A man could make lots of memories in a few days.”
“I can imagine.”
The song changed, the new one overwhelming any attempt at conversation. As they continued to dance, the man’s body responded to her efforts. A couple of minutes later he leaned close to her ear again during the extended finale.
“I’d like to take you back to your place, rip off that dress, and fuck you until you scream,” Chuck suggested. “Maybe that’s too forward or just the tequila talking, but it’s also the truth.”
The song ended, and Widowmaker smiled and licked her lips. “I’d kill to try that.” She stepped away and winked over her shoulder. “I’ll be waiting out front. If you want, you can even drive my Ferrari. I’ve been waiting for a man who can handle both of us.”
Chuck’s wide grin split his face, and he rushed toward the table with his friends. He slipped his wedding ring into his pocket and tossed a few bills on the table. “Don’t wait for me. I’ll get back to the motel…later.” He winked.
A few of his buddies high-fived him as Widowmaker disappeared into the crowd. It’d be good for him to struggle to find her for a few moments. The tension and uncertainty would increase his desperation.
I can’t wait to show you my little trick, Chuck.
A few minutes later, Widowmaker pulled the Ferrari up to the sidewalk and smiled at the waiting man. She caught sight of the last few seconds of a worried expression before it changed into a happy one.
The Drow batted her eyelashes. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be willing to leave your friends, so I headed out.” She shrugged. “A little test.”
“You’re a dream come true, Angie. Fuck my friends.”
“I’d prefer if you fuck me, Chuck.”
They shared a laugh. Widowmaker slid to the passenger’s seat and patted the driver’s seat.
“I’ve never driven one of these.” Chuck got in.
“And I’m willing to bet you’ve never been with a woman like me, not that I mind. I can tell that you’re special, Chuck. You’re going to please me tonight in a way you’ve never pleased a woman.”
“You’re damned right I will.” The businessman closed the door. “Guess it’s just my lucky day all around.”
“Let’s make sure to exchange numbers afterward. I know you said you’re only in town for a few days, but maybe we can see each other when you swing through town again.”
“Oh, Angie, I’ll exchange numbers after I exchange some fluids.”
As Widowmaker stared down at the naked Chuck on the bed, tranquility and warmth spread through her. The man stared at the ceiling with a huge smile on his face and his eyes didn’t move. The laceration across his throat was a second smile.
I hope you had fun before the end, Chuck.
A dark mist surrounded the Drow’s outstretched hand. The man’s blood flowed from the wound into a large nearby cup, and she licked her lips as she thought about the power contained in the precious life fluid.
Life was wasted on people like Chuck, but she’d do her best to turn that wasted life into something worthwhile.
“Rejoice, Chuck. You will help me find the Princess of the Shadow Forged. Your meaningless existence has been transformed into an important tool for the Drow.”
The Drow lowered her hand to the man’s throat. The wound sealed itself, but it was far too late for the man. She hadn’t even bothered to note when his last breath left him.
Widowmaker picked up the cup of blood and gulped down the warm, metallic contents, savoring the flavor. Even as the liquid slid down her throat, she could feel the power of the sacrifice flowing through and warming her.
Something about drinking her victims’ blood satisfied her more than just leeching soul energy directly. Maybe if she were a royal it’d be different, but she would have a hard time finding a substitute that came with the satisfaction of the first drop as it hit her tongue.
“Thank you again for your sacrifice,” Widowmaker whispered, wiping blood from her mouth. “And I’m sure your wife will appreciate being free of scum like you.”
The Drow woman sighed and raised both hands in front of her. Dark, shadowy rings circled her hands as she chanted in Drow. More rings appeared in the next few seconds until they ran up the entire length of both of her arms. She finished her chanting and thrust her arms over the body.
The rings shot toward the man and spread until he was surrounded by a blanket of darkness. A few seconds later, the shadow and the body winked out of existence. No one would find him, and soon her appearance wouldn’t even be the same.
Widowmaker chuckled. “Let’s see the humans find him in the World in Between.”
Lieutenant Maria Hall stifled a yawn as she clicked around on her computer. Too many damned criminals had kept the AET officer busy, and the looming threat of budget cuts kept her neck and shoulders in a permanent state of tension.
She couldn’t believe they would even consider a cut to the AET budget. It was downright insane, given the shit that had happened in recent months. If anything, they should have been talking about doubling or tripling their budget.
Fucking asshole pencil pushers. They’d probably be happy with nothing but stupid bounty hunters running around dealing with shit because they can get the corporations to kick into the bounty pool.
She gritted her teeth. Cops should be the ones handling criminals, not scum like Brownstone who were all but criminals themselves.
Hell, the guy was worse than a criminal. He caused mass destruction, and half the city acted like they wanted to blow him for it. The larger his reputation grew, the more people like him would crawl out from under the twisted rocks they were hiding under, and soon the city wou
ld be nothing but a battleground for magical freaks.
You don’t win a war by nuking yourselves, idiots.
Maria let out a long sigh and picked up a Styrofoam cup of coffee. A few sips of the hot brew helped calm her down.
She clicked on her To be done folder. AET might not be dedicated to investigation, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t poke around during her free time.
A file caught her attention. She clicked on it and her frown deepened.
A fuzzy image of a woman taken at long range from a drone dominated the top half of the file. Links to various notes and emails covered the bottom.
“Oh yeah, almost forgot you. You’re Brownstone’s little female friend.”
The lieutenant’s previous attempts to track down the woman had ended in failure, but she refused to believe the woman couldn’t be identified. Sometimes finding a criminal was a simple matter of looking in the right place.
Maria leaned back and took a deep breath. It was time to hit up a few of her old FBI and Interpol contacts.
5
James returned to his plate for another attack on the delicious brisket. The sauce at Low and Slow in LA was no Jessie Rae’s God Sauce, but the nice Kansas-City blend on the brisket satisfied his tongue and stomach.
He eyed the trays covering the table with beef and pork ribs, brisket, and pork steaks, with three different sauces: Kansas City, St. Louis, and their version of sweet and spicy Oriceran fusion.
Every Oriceran fusion sauce he’d encountered lately was the same thing: someone’s take on Nadina’s show-winning efforts. The elf’s influence was definitely spreading, but the cost of the Oriceran herbs and spices made it a pricey experience for a dedicated barbeque lover.
James wondered if that was half the point. It wasn’t like he’d priced all the ingredients in Nadina’s sauces. It’d been easy to make a profit off curious people.
Trey and Sergeant Mack sat across from him. Both men launched vicious assaults on the tray of ribs in front of them.
The police sergeant glanced at Trey and James. “I’ve talked it over with my captain and he’s a bit skeptical given Trey’s past, but because the Brownstone name is attached and you’ve even got a company set up, he’s more than willing to have us start funneling lower-class bounties to your agency.” Mack held up a rib and shook it as he spoke. “But the captain made it clear that if shit gets fucked up all bets are off, and this doesn’t say we’re gonna lay off the gang. If they do something illegal they will be brought in.” He frowned at Trey. “Don’t think because you’re working for Brownstone that any of us will look the other way.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. 5-0. I know all that shit, and all you need to know is that I’ll catch all the bounties you need as a duly authorized representative of Mr. James Motherfucking Brownstone. If any of my boys are stupid enough to get caught by you, they deserve what they get.”
The bounty hunter chuckled and picked up a glass of beer. He marveled at Trey. The gang leader could switch up his language in an instant to whatever people expected. It was a good strategy, because it made people underestimate his intelligence. Hell, even James had.
So many criminals focused on puffing up their abilities when the opposite could be a useful strategy.
“None of these low-level bounties are going to be dead or alive,” Mack noted. “I want that damned clear. We’re not turning LA into some sort of warzone.”
Trey shrugged. “I ain’t no killer anyway. I’ve only stepped up to protect me and mine. I just want to make the streets safer for my nana and make a shit-ton of money.”
“Fair enough.”
James nodded in approval of Trey’s answer. He’d expected pushback from the police. From their perspective, it might look like his new agency was taking control of a street gang for its own uses.
I kind of am. Huh.
The cop nodded and focused on James. “You thought much about expansion?”
James groaned. “I’ve gone through more paperwork the last few days than I have in the last ten years. I’ve got some stuff set up to potentially bring on other people from Trey’s gang, but I’ll have to figure out jobs for them other than just being my eyes and ears.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Sergeant,” Trey interjected. The gang leader shook his head. “Some my boys don’t know much shit. Hell, they can’t spell ‘shit.’ Not all, but some.”
“Big surprise,” the cop muttered.
Trey chuckled. “Glass houses and all that stuff. I’ve seen plenty of your brothers in blue who are stupider and more thuggy than a lot of my boys.”
“Yeah, can’t say you’re wrong there.” Mack furrowed his brow. “I’ve got an idea, Brownstone, and if you’re already done the paperwork to at least get them on a payroll or something it’ll be easy. They don’t even have to learn any new skills.”
James finished a rib before responding, “What’s the idea?”
“Property insurance jobs.”
Trey laughed. “You mean you think my boys can go over and inspect people’s property and shit? Hell, I like ‘em, and even I don’t think that. There’s giving people a chance, and then there’s just being stupid.”
James shrugged. “He’s got a point.”
The cop shook his head. “No, you’re not following me. What I’m saying is that just having a few of these guys around will scare off people, especially now that people are associating them with you. I’m talking about them just kind of being symbols; living warnings.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I think your little stunt with the Demon Generals has slowed their expansion plans. The gang task force is grumbling a little, but also pretty grateful. Those bastards have been getting nastier despite losing a lot of guys.” He nodded Trey’s way. “And they’re calling his boys ‘the gang that doesn’t bang.’”
Trey snorted. “Whatever. It’s like the Mafia after prohibition. Nothing wrong with going legit after you’ve proven you’re badasses.”
Mack held up his hands in front of him. “Not saying we’re complaining. Just saying a known quantity can help.”
Trey looked at James. “I say stick the boys in suits. That can be our Brownstone Agency trademark. We’ll be the best-looking sonsabitches in LA.”
“You can wear suits.” James grunted. “But I don’t wear suits.”
“Shit, motherfucker, you’re the boss. You do what you want. I’m just saying it’s easy for my boys to sit around in suits, but they can knock some heads if necessary.”
Sergeant Mack sighed. “We don’t want this to be some sort of turf thing. The point is de-escalation, not more trouble.”
Trey shrugged. “We can call the cops, even. See, we’re all law-abiding and shit. That’s the whole point.”
James thought the idea over. He’d wanted to utilize the gang more and was already depending on his reputation to keep his neighborhood in check, so it wasn’t like this was something he’d never thought of. But the more people who got involved, the more complicated his life would become.
Fuck. Not like I can do anything about that. The Harriken made sure of that, and I’m adopting a half-Oriceran teenager and guarding a wish for her. Kind of hard to keep shit anywhere near as simple as I wanted.
Guess that’s why parents are always bitching.
James took a long draw of his beer. “It’s a good idea. I’ll talk to the HR company to see if we’ll need any more bullshit paperwork.”
“I’ve got another idea.” Sergeant Mack averted his gaze. “I’m guessing you won’t like it, but hear me out.”
The bounty hunter set his beer down. No one pitched an idea with “hear me out” unless they knew the next few words were utter bullshit.
“What now?” James asked suspiciously.
“Look, your reputation is big. National-news big. I’ve known you for years, and I know how well you’ve been doing the job, but all this Harriken shit, both here and in Japan, took it to the next level.”
James shrugged. “Yeah, so? The assho
le at the bank didn’t know who I was. Not so famous.”
Trey chuckled.
Sergeant Mack shook his head. “Criminals know, and that’s what matters. We can start leveraging that now that you’re going to have an agency and employees.” He pointed at Trey. “He’s right. We get his guys visible in uniforms or suits or whatever, then we get you out there doing…you know, PR. Commercials, interviews, that sort of thing; really spread the word. People see somebody they associate with James Brownstone, they’ll think twice about causing trouble.”
James stared at the cop like he’d lost his fucking mind. “I’m not some celebrity. I don’t do that kind of shit. I kick ass, and I get paid for it.”
“But you also have a reputation as the man who beat a group of hitmen; the man who took out the Harriken, not just here, but in their home base.”
“The Japanese police haven’t officially said I did that,” James muttered.
Trey and Mack snorted in unison.
“I’ve seen crap on the internet.” The cop pointed to Brownstone. “Fan sites. Surprised people aren’t trying to email you.”
“They probably are. Not like I publicly post that shit.”
“Once you get your agency going, maybe you should. You can leverage those fans to spread the word,” Mack suggested.
James narrowed his eyes. “I don’t really like where this is going.”
“Look, we both know you’re about a lot more than just money. We can use your employees to amplify your reach, and that means a lot of lower-level crap stops just because people are afraid. You can use it to your advantage. The higher-level guys who aren’t afraid will think you’ve gone soft, maybe you’re easier to take out.”
Trey looked over his shoulder like he expected King Pyro to be there. “Like to see them bitches go after James motherfucking Brownstone and see what they get. More fuel for the rumor mill is what I’m saying will happen. Either way, it works.”
James polished off the last of his beer as he thought over the explanation. Like everything lately it seemed overly complicated, but he figured the cop would know better than him how to deal with crime in a more systematic way.
She Is The Widow Maker_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure Page 4