Guess I’ll go a few rounds with Leesom and see if I need it.
It didn’t matter. The amulet would be useless if he couldn’t find the man.
James frowned and whipped out his phone. He might not have any contacts in Detroit, but he knew at least one person who might be able to help him.
He dialed and waited.
“Brownstone,” answered Peyton in a cheerful voice. “How’s Detroit?”
James grunted. “You already know about that?”
“I like to keep an eye on important people. I’m less surprised that way.”
The bounty hunter considered asking Peyton if he’d heard from Shay, but she still had four days before his deadline and he didn’t want to seem like a pussy.
“I need a favor,” James rumbled instead.
Peyton chuckled. “Favors are nice between friends.”
“I’m tracking a bounty, a level five by the name of Jacob Leesom. The guy can magically hop bodies, and he’s somewhere in Detroit. I was wondering if you could poke around and maybe set me up with some leads. There was an apartment where they found this dead magic-infused body, but the place had been empty for months.” James rattled off the address. “Any lead would help.”
“Sure, I can do that. I’ll just need something in return.”
“What?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
James snorted. “Really?”
“Yeah. I know how much you’re going to make off a level five and it sounds like I’m doing a lot of the hard investigative work, so a little reward isn’t out of line. Right?”
“Fine. I’ll pay.”
Peyton clapped on the other end, which made James wonder if he was using a headset.
“Okay, give me a few hours, and I’ll get some leads.”
James grunted and ended the call. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Shit. He’ll tell Shay, and I’m never gonna hear the end of it.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Fucking necromancers. You’re really asking for it now.
James pushed into the Eternal Shores Funeral Home. Colorful flowers in vases atop a podium, soft lighting, and light classical music greeted him.
After the briefing, he’d checked into Leesom via his bounty hunter apps and sites. Even if the process killed the victim, no one had said anything about the necromancer being able to hop into already-dead bodies. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe the man had a new trick he wanted to try out.
James frowned. Or choice three: Leesom found the ultimate place to dispose of bodies, a place no one would blink at being filled with corpses.
Peyton’s digging had turned up some unusual financial activity associated with this funeral home and an account linked to the apartment. The cops hadn’t looked closely enough.
Based on what Peyton had explained, James suspected Leesom had been using the place on and off for years under different names. The rental and occupancy patterns were odd and erratic on the surface, but when cross-referenced with Leesom’s reported activities in other cities they made sense.
The evidence suggested the body jumper would stir up trouble, leave, and hide in Detroit. He’d just gotten sloppy this time.
Sloppy guys were usually desperate guys. Maybe something had gone wrong. Well, if it hadn’t before, it was fucking going to soon.
A dark-suited man with matching hair emerged from the back room, a plastic smile on his face. He moved to the podium.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome to Eternal Shores. We pride ourselves are making your loved one’s transition as comfortable as possible. How may I assist you in this time of remembrance?”
The transition to the afterlife didn’t require more than a half-decent burial and Last Rites as far as James was concerned, but he wasn’t there to pick a fight with the funeral industry. Just Leesom.
The man looked James up and down, probably wondering why James was wearing such a long and thick coat in warm weather. Admitting that he was doing it to cover guns, throwing knives, and a machete might be worth a chuckle, but it’d end with the cops getting called if the man wasn’t helping Leesom.
Guess it was time to find out.
“Yeah, I’m gonna make this short and sweet,” James began. “I need Jacob Leesom. I don’t know what his deal is with this place, but I know he’s been in contact with you.”
The man furrowed his brow. “I don’t remember any customer by that name or any clients by that name. You must be mistaken, sir.”
James grunted. “Well, who transferred a hundred thousand dollars to this place yesterday? Give me that name.”
The mortician’s face twitched. “We have a privacy policy concerning clients and their families.”
“Yeah, but harboring a level-five bounty is a pretty big deal, especially a sonofabitch like Jacob Leeson. That guy’s a twisted fuck. If you knew what he was into you’d be pretty pissed. Kind of mocks your whole job.”
“I can assure you, sir, I have no idea of whom you’re speaking.”
James stared at the man, looking for a bead of sweat or a twitch of the face that suggested he was lying. The man locked eyes with the bounty hunter, angry defiance on his face.
He might be aiding a mass-murdering body-jumper, or he might just be a pissed-off funeral director not liking being accused of being the said body-jumper.
Fuck. Maybe he honestly doesn’t…
The bounty hunter’s focused on the man’s chest. No rise. No fall. James might not be a doctor, but you didn’t need an MD to know that living people usually breathed.
“What’s the deal, Leesom? This where you dispose of the bodies normally? Why the fuck did you get so sloppy and leave a body at the apartment?”
The funeral director glared at him. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”
James shrugged. “Go ahead. Tell ‘em James Brownstone says hi.”
The man’s eyes widened. “James Brownstone? The James Brownstone?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” The bounty hunter grinned.
So some fucking gangbanger in LA doesn’t know who I am, but this asshole halfway across the country does? What’s up with that? Maybe that’ll make this easier.
The man pointed at James. “You’re supposed to be in LA.”
“Hey, I go all over. Took a few bounties down in Tokyo recently.” James scratched his eyelid. “So, Leesom, you gonna come along quietly, or am I gonna have to get rough?”
“I-I…” The man shook his head and snorted. “Why am I so afraid of you? You’re just a man.”
“Yeah, that’s more like it, asshole. Glad you finally admitted who you are.”
The fear and concern vanished from the other man’s face. “I wonder what I could do with a body like yours, Brownstone.”
“Who knows? Soon you’re gonna be fucking dead, so it won’t matter.”
Leesom barked out a laugh. “Dead? I’ve been dead for a century.”
James frowned. Nothing he’d read said Leesom was that old. The man had been skulking about in the shadows a lot longer than anyone had realized, which was all the more reason to end his ass.
“Yeah, this time I’m gonna make sure it sticks.” James pulled back his gray coat, revealing a sheathed machete. “Chop-chop, fuckhead.”
Leesom threw the podium toward James and he grunted as it slammed into him. He stumbled as his bounty rushed into the back.
James ignored the pain in his chest and hurried after the necromancer. He bounded into a dark door-lined hallway.
Leesom sprinted down the hall toward an emergency door in the back and crashed through with a grunt. A shrill alarm sounded just as the bounty hunter passed through.
His target ran toward a nearby metal fence.
James whipped out his .45 and put three rounds into Leesom’s back, and the man jerked and stumbled. He didn’t go down, but the delay gave James enough time to holster his weapon and close half the distance to his target.
> “Stop running, asshole,” the bounty hunter shouted. “This is just wasting my fucking time.”
He leapt toward Leesom as the man hopped on the fence and both men tumbled to the ground, Leesom landing with a hollow thud.
The necromancer backhanded James, sending him stumbling back with pain radiating over his face.
James rubbed his sore jaw. “Nice hit, fucker.” He slammed his foot into the other man and punted him a few yards.
Leesom stood and dusted off his suit. “You might be strong, Brownstone, but you don’t understand who you’re dealing with. I am eternal. Don’t you understand that?”
“You’re a fucking parasite who should have died a long time ago.” The bounty hunter widened his stance and lowered his right hand. “Like I mentioned earlier, I spent some time in Japan recently. There’s something I always wanted to try. Maybe you can help with it, but fair warning—it ends with you in two pieces.”
Leesom laughed. “If you beg I’ll kill you quickly, you arrogant insect.”
James narrowed. “Thought you wanted to use my body?”
“Oh, as long as I start the process before you die it’s fine.”
The bounty hunter gestured for the killer to come at him. “Bring it, asshole. Let’s end this shit.”
Leesom charged and James whipped his machete out of its sheath in one fluid motion, swinging toward his attacker. The blade connected with the bounty’s neck.
“Oh shi—” Leesom began.
The separation of his head from his body punctuated his sentence. His headless corpse collapsed to the ground, and his head rolled for a few feet.
James glanced between the pieces of the corpse. No blood. Not even coagulated blood. He sheathed the machete.
The bounty hunter laughed. “Thanks for being at a funeral home, asshole. Shit, guess I’ll just borrow one of your body bags. It’s way better than the trash bags I brought.”
9
James frowned as he pulled up to the police station in his U-Haul. Several cameramen and reporters stood in front of the police station, their microphones in the faces of the Detroit AET officers, all of whom were wearing their dress uniforms. Several other cops stood on either side of the AET team.
“What the fuck?” James parked the truck next to the street and rolled down his window.
Lieutenant Walsh hurried to the vehicle. “Sergeant Mack said you wanted a little PR. To be honest, we could use a little too, so we called a few people.”
James groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I was talking about maybe some interviews and shit. I got a decapitated necromancer in a body bag in the back. You really want to show them that?”
The cop laughed. “They don’t need to see that. All they need to know is that a dangerous magical criminal is off the streets.” He nodded toward the reporters.
James grunted and stepped out of the vehicle, following Lieutenant Walsh toward a perky blonde reporter near the steps leading up to the front of the police station.
The woman sprinted toward James, meeting him halfway. It was an impressive feat in her high heels. That the cameraman lugging his gear kept up with her impressed James too.
The reporter raised her microphone and looked into the camera. “This is Cara Lamont, live in front of the Downtown Services Precinct Station of the Detroit Police Department. We’ve just been informed that the infamous Jacob Leesom, a level-five bounty and necromancer known to hop bodies, has been apprehended by James Brownstone, who recently cleared out every Harriken in Los Angeles at the request of the Los Angeles Police Department.”
James chuckled. The LAPD had gotten in on the act late by setting up an organizational bounty. He would have killed the Harriken anyway.
The reporter shoved her microphone in James’ face. “Mr. Brownstone, your activities have made you famous, or as some might even claim, infamous. Do you have any comment on people who think you might occasionally go too far?”
“I don’t go too far.” The bounty hunter shrugged. “I go after bounties. If people don’t want me after them, they shouldn’t get bounties on their heads. Leesom was a bounty. I brought him in. Simple as that.”
“I see. What do you think about the fact that the Detroit AET called in an out-of-state bounty hunter to deal with a local problem?”
Lieutenant Walsh grimaced behind the woman.
James shrugged and moved to stand beside the lieutenant. “I think Detroit PD is putting their lives on the line every day for the people of your city, and Detroit AET isn’t given the funding they need to do their damned jobs.”
A hungry look appeared on Cara’s face. “Are you saying the city council and the mayor are responsible for dangerous criminals like Jacob Leesom thinking they can run free in Detroit?”
“I’m saying you need to give your cops the fucking tools they need.” He stared straight at the camera, not giving one solid shit about all his live on-air cursing. “Look, if the politicians won’t do right by your cops, the people should. Hell, I’ll throw down half my bounty from Leeson as a donation to the Detroit AET to help them out. If everyone in the city gives a little they’ll have what they need.”
Lieutenant Walsh’s mouth dropped open, but he recovered once the reporter rounded on him.
“Lieutenant, your response?”
“Uh, I want to thank Mr. Brownstone for his assistance with the apprehension of Jacob Leesom and his generous donation. I consider him a true friend of Detroit police and police officers everywhere.”
“Yeah, tell that to that LAPD AET,” James muttered under his breath.
Cara looked into her camera. “There you have it. A six-figure spontaneous donation by James Brownstone to the Detroit AET and a dangerous criminal off the streets. I know that I, for one, will sleep a little better tonight. This is Cara Lamont with Action First News.”
“We’re clear,” her cameraman said.
The woman rubbed her hands together and winked at Brownstone. “Are you interested in any further interviews, Mr. Brownstone? We can do some non-live stuff. It’ll help if we can edit some of your more colorful language later.”
James grunted. “It’s been a long day. I’m really not interested.”
The woman offered him a business card, although he didn’t see where she pulled it from. “Give me a call if you’re ever interested in getting a story on the air in Detroit.”
James took the card and shrugged. He wanted PR, but he was more interested in LA than Detroit.
“Come on, Nick,” Cara called to her cameraman. “I want to get some quick interviews with some of the other cops.”
Lieutenant Walsh leaned over to whisper to James as the reporter scurried off. “You didn’t have to do that, Brownstone.”
James shrugged. “I felt like it.”
“How about you come with the team after we get this mess all cleaned up? I’ll buy you a few drinks. It’s the least I can do.”
“A little beer sounds nice.”
James sat in an office waiting for the AET officers to finish processing Leesom’s corpse. A call from Sergeant Mack shattered his quiet reflection.
“Hey, Mack,” the bounty hunter answered.
“Hey, Brownstone. I didn’t want to call you while you were on the job to distract you, but I was just reading some news online and I see you already solved the Detroit AET’s little problem.”
James grunted. “Got lucky. The bounty underestimated me, and I brought the right tools for the job.”
Mack guffawed. “Shit, if there’s one man in this country no one should underestimate, it’s you. Anyway, congratulations on that, and thanks for helping out the Detroit PD. Thanks for the donation, too. Might not be my department, but I’m hoping your generosity rubs off on the local politicians and citizens.”
“I do what I can.”
“Good day for the Brownstone Agency.”
“Trey texted me about grabbing Conners yesterday.”
“That all?” Mack asked.
“
What do you mean?”
“Your boy done good. He nailed two other level-one bounties today.”
James grunted. “He isn’t a boy. He’s a damned man, and I wouldn’t have hired him if I didn’t think he could do it.”
“Yeah.” Mack chuckled. “Come on, though. What other white-bread bounty hunter would ever think to go to the hood to search for recruits, let alone hire a gangbanger?”
James sighed. “Fuck if I know. I don’t know what other people do, and I don’t give a shit. All I know is Trey’s always given me respect, so I’ve shown him the same. Not saying him doing the gang shit is okay, but we both know that a guy like him didn’t have a lot of good choices in his life.”
Mack fell silent for a few seconds. “Not going to say I think it’s okay. I’m a cop, but, yeah, I get it. Hood life is tough, and when the bullets are flying you want someone to have your back. I guess it’s a good thing you’re giving Trey and his boys an alternative.” He laughed. “I don’t know if you’re getting them to leave gang life or if you’re just introducing them to a new gang leader.”
“I’ve always had an odd relationship with Trey. Shit, I believe in him. He’s my fucking friend.”
James rubbed the back of his neck. All these new friends had snuck up on him since Leeroy’s death. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known Trey for years, but they’d never been that close.
He’d been a loner who didn’t give a shit, and now he had a daughter, friends, and Shay, whatever the hell she was.
Lover? That didn’t seem right, considering they hadn’t done anything in bed. Girlfriend? He wasn’t some punk teen.
“Your house got blown to pieces,” Mack remarked. “Most people would have taken the opportunity to leave a shitty neighborhood like that. I’ve been processing bounties for you for years, Brownstone. I know how much money you must have. You could live in Coto or the Colony if you wanted, but you’re staying in some piece-of-shit neighborhood filled with crime.”
James snorted. “I didn’t have problems before the Harriken, and now they aren’t around anymore to be a problem.”
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