Road Trip: BBQ And A Brawl (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 19)

by Michael Anderle

  The boy held up the paper. Nadina’s elegant signature scrolled across the crumpled paper.

  At least I know this kid isn’t gonna sell this shit online.

  “My name isn’t Ghost,” James rumbled. “It’s Brownstone.”

  The boy’s only smiled wider. “Can I have your autograph, Mr. Brownstone?”

  With a grunt, James took the paper and signed it before handing it back to the kid. The child promptly scurried back across the gym, which was filled with tables and chairs.

  At the front, piles of ribs, brisket, and grilled chicken sat on trays. Nadina appeared from a kitchen in the back, a smile on her face, flanked by two assistants holding more trays. Adults and children sat scattered around the tables, chatting happily and gobbling barbeque.

  Nadina took a moment to chat with a few of the kids who were picking up food before returning to the kitchen. Her assistants remained behind to continue serving.

  It’s a youth center for kids to hang out, not an orphanage, but it reminds me a lot of where I grew up.

  Other tables stood in front of a temporary stage. They held piles of baskets filled with donations for an auction later. Security was scattered around the exterior, most looking bored. Nadina had asked the organizers of the events if they wanted to cancel, but after some reassurances from the local police that there was no specific threat, they had decided to go forward with it, citing James’ presence as a deterrent.

  Maybe there really isn’t a problem. The cops and the FBI aren’t dumbasses. This might be nothing but HDL blowing hot air in the end. If one of their groups attacked a building full of kids, they would never be able to hold one of their little protests again.

  A few children ran by. While Nadina was just helping out a youth center for at-risk kids, not an orphanage or a group home, it was hard not to see himself in the young children running back and forth. The priests at the orphanage had helped ensure he grew into a good man, or if not a good man, at least not a total piece of garbage. Considering his true potential, they might have very well saved the world.

  If they hadn’t helped me give a shit, would Whispy have taken over the first time I went into advanced mode? I lost my shit. I was hacking away at those fuckers long after they were dead.

  James frowned as he remembered all the times he had let rage overtake him while bonded. Whispy fed on it and helped him maintain it, creating a feedback loop. That made sense, given that it was being used as a power source.

  Was I risking everything all those times before I convinced Whispy to change his primary directive?

  If Whispy had taken control, James would have summoned the Vanguard, and Earth would have been helpless. Even the best-case scenario involved the Alliance showing up and solving the problem by bombarding major cities and killing millions if not tens of million, and that was unlikely. And if not the Alliance, then the government, who would deploy nuclear weapons or strategic-level magic.

  Everything James understood about the Alliance’s fleet presence during the Battle of LA suggested they had brought the ships because of him, and they’d only had time to do that because the Shepherd had been aware of him. He didn’t know anything about how quickly the Alliance could send their ships across the galaxy, but he doubted they could snap their fingers and get a bunch of ships there in hours. That was one of the reasons they feared both the Vax and magical portals.

  Someday in the future, Earth will be on even footing with the Alliance, but if I’m still around, they’ll never trust this planet. They should spend more time looking for the Vax homeworld than freaking out about me.

  James grunted, wondering if the Vax were hiding from everyone now. It wasn’t like the Alliance was dropping by his restaurant to have a little brisket and discuss galactic warfare.

  Three new kids ran James’ way with pens and paper. A smattering of adults who had finished their food now wandered around the gym, moving chairs into position in front of the stage. The actual event for donors and the community didn’t start for another hour, and a few of the higher-level media representatives wouldn’t be coming for thirty minutes.

  James walked across the gym, smiling at the children. He accepted that he had held onto the wrong mindset the entire time. When Shay had told him about being pregnant, he’d focused on how complicated it would be to raise a kid rather than accepting that he already knew what it took to raise a good kid from a young age. He had the perfect model in the priests who had raised him.

  It wasn’t as if James believed everything would proceed without stress or failure. There would be bullshit, yelling, and mistakes, but there was nothing to fear.

  I can do this. Shit, Shay and I can do this. It’s just another change in our life, and one for the better.

  A shrill fire alarm cut through the air.

  “What the hell?” James muttered.

  Several of the children shouted in surprise and looked around, fear suffusing their faces. Some of the adults stood, brows furrowed in confusion. Nadina’s assistants grabbed the hands of some nearby children and ran for the exits.

  The rest of the adults hopped to their feet and began pointing to the emergency exits. The children rushed that way, many screaming.

  James frowned and looked around as people fled the gym.

  Is this an actual fire, or just some kid thinking he’s being funny?

  The lights cut out, leaving the gym lit dimly by stray light streaming through the high windows. The alarm died, but the staff continued evacuating the kids.

  False alarm, or is the fire in the electrical system?

  James sniffed at the air and looked at the kitchen. There was no sign of smoke, and no one was coming out of the kitchen. A few of the security guards rushed that way. One pointed to his ear as he murmured something to another, but they were too far away for James to make anything out.

  Cyrus rushed into the gym past a stream of fleeing children. He grimaced, looked around for a few seconds, and sprinted toward the kitchen.

  What is going on?

  James searched the main gym one last time to ensure there were no children left behind. The staff had corralled the few kids who hadn’t run for the exits. They had the evacuation well in hand, but one thing still bothered him and pricked at the back of his mind, refusing to let it settle, and not just Cyrus sprinted toward the kitchen.

  I don’t smell or see any smoke.

  Cyrus threw open the door to the kitchen and hurried inside, anger on his face.

  James jogged toward the kitchen. He patted his amulet but decided against bonding.

  Someone shouted from inside the kitchen. James kicked open the door and prepared to charge, raising his hand and ready to reach inside his shirt to pull off the spacer separating his amulet from his chest.

  Cyrus stood near a counter, his teeth gritted. He stood in front of several security guards. He glared at James before turning back toward the men. “Go to the perimeter and physically check with everyone. Make sure. Don’t assume.”

  James let the door close behind him and looked around the kitchen. The tempting smell of grilled meat saturated the air, and multiple open grills stood near the back of the narrow space. Several kitchen tools were scattered on the ground next to a tray and ribs littered the ground as if someone had tossed them there. A scorch mark marred the back of the tray. Nadina’s cracked phone lay on the ground near the tray.

  His gaze drifted to the back door. There was half a large bloody handprint near the handle.

  “I don’t need any help, Brownstone,” Cyrus muttered through gritted teeth. “This situation is well in hand. Get out of here.”

  “The situation is well in hand?” James looked around. “Where’s Nadina?”

  “The situation is well in hand,” Cyrus repeated.

  James squared his shoulders and glowered at the other man. “I didn’t fucking ask that. I asked where Nadina is, asshole.”

  Cyrus swallowed and averted his eyes. “We’re checking on that.”

 
James snorted. “’Checking on that?’ She was just here.” He pointed to a back door. “Did you check out there?”

  “I’m not an idiot, Brownstone.” Cyrus stared at James as if deciding whether to continue. “We have reason to believe Nadina is no longer on-site.” His shoulders slumped.

  “What?” James narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck does that even mean?” He pointed to the downed meat, the tray, and then the door. “I might not be some fancy-ass bodyguard or detective, but it fucking looks like to me there was a fight in here.”

  “We do believe there was a struggle.” Cyrus licked his lips. “There’s a possibility that Nadina’s been kidnapped.” He pointed to the door. “One of my men is unconscious on the other side, but not dead. They must have surprised him so they could come in through the back.”

  James stared at Cyrus for several seconds. “You’re fucking terrible at your job.”

  Cyrus frowned. “We don’t have time to sit around pointing fingers. I’ve got my people checking everywhere. If the kidnappers are on foot, they’ll spot them. I will recover her and them.”

  James shook his head, wondering if he should punch the man for his incompetence. “Check the cameras. This place has to have cameras. We need to figure this shit out.”

  Cyrus rolled his eyes before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. He tossed it on the counter next to him. “Whatever you think of me, I’m not blind enough to ignore the obvious.”

  James glanced at the device. “What? You already have the camera feed set up on it?”

  “No. Didn’t you notice? The lights and alarm died at the same time.” Cyrus tapped a receiver in his ear. “Our comms died, too. We think someone EMPed the building.”

  James pulled out his own phone. It remained active, but it’d been hardened against normal EMP attacks, something Shay had insisted on after an incident in Bahrain a few years back when she thought he was dead because he hadn’t been able to call her for a day afterward.

  Cyrus gestured toward the door leading to the gym. “I’m having some of my people go to the men on the perimeter to call the cops. This is a security situation, Brownstone, not a bounty-hunting situation. Maybe if your daughter was here, she might be able to help, but I’m going to be honest: we don’t need a thug pitmaster’s help, and you’ll only get in my way.”

  James snorted. “If she got nabbed by the Defenders, she doesn’t have a lot of time. The only thing holding those fucks back is concern about killing humans. They aren’t going to have a problem killing a Light Elf. We might not have a lot of time.”

  Cyrus flung a hand in the air. “You think I don’t fucking know that, Brownstone? Why don’t you get the hell out of here and let me do my job?”

  James shook his head and turned around. He didn’t have time to waste in a dick-measuring contest with Cyrus. The conversation was pointless. He pushed out of the kitchen. The cops had obviously underestimated the HDL, but so had the security chief.

  Fuck. I underestimated them too. I thought if they did anything, they’d come in here trying to make a big show, not sneak in the back. Subtle assholes are the worst assholes.

  Fine. I’ll let the cops and Cyrus do their thing, and I’ll do mine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  James stepped outside and marched away from the gym. He glanced at the lines of children arranged far from the building, some looking terrified, others excited. Adults were counting the children, and the few parents there were pulling their own children into embraces.

  There was still no smoke or fire.

  It was all just a fucking misdirect. Great. Just fucking great.

  Sirens sounded in the distance, along with the flashing lights of incoming fire trucks. Drones from both the fire and police departments hovered overhead, circling the area.

  If the HDL had the resources to EMP the damned building, they aren’t going to stick around. Cyrus was too damned slow.

  James turned toward his truck, which was in the parking lot. If the HDL had fried the truck, he might have to reconsider the live part of the bounty as well as figure out some other way to get around town. He suspected Nadina didn’t have more than a couple of hours left at most.

  A quick jog brought him to his vehicle. James slipped inside, and the engine started with its normal roar. The console display came to life. He grunted in relief.

  James set his phone to speaker and dialed a number he hadn’t used in a while. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out as the phone rang.

  I don’t have to like someone for them to be good at their job.

  “Woah,” answered a man’s voice. “I always get nervous when the dude himself calls me. It makes me think something’s about to blow up, brah. Good timing. I just finished eating my tofu wrap. You really should try this stuff. You’ll live way longer than if you keep eating all that grilled meat.”

  Davion sounded like a surfer, but as far as James knew, the man hated the water.

  “I don’t have time to talk about that shit.” James grunted. He missed Heather every time he had to deal with Davion, but he was happy she had left the agency to start her own cybersecurity products company. Maria and Trey both swore up and down that Davion’s skills justified his eccentricities, particularly since he was an infomancer and could bring magic to hacking, which put him above both Peyton and Heather.

  “Okay, okay, chill. I was just offering a suggestion.”

  James had agreed to hire Maria and Trey when he’d retired, so he wasn’t about to undermine them by saying they should fire the man for being annoying and anti-barbeque, no matter how badly it offended him.

  “It’s work time, not food time,” James rumbled. “And I need your help. Nothing’s gonna blow up. Some assholes might die, but first I need to find those assholes. Hard to punch someone when they aren’t anywhere near me.”

  “You ever try yoga, brah?” Davion replied. “I mean, I get that you’re James Brownstone, but maybe you just—"

  “Like, I don’t have time for this shit,” James growled. “And it’s important, so fucking pay attention.”

  “Damn. Touchy. It’s okay. I’m not busy. I was running down some background checks for Maria, but it’s nothing that can’t wait. Anything for the man whose name is on the building—not that I’m ever in that building.” Davion chuckled. “What did you need? Did some dumbass threaten you or something?”

  A firetruck turned a corner and rolled to a stop in front of the building. Several firefighters stepped off and walked toward a gesticulating staff member. Two of the firefighters moved toward the hose, uncertainty on their faces. Several more red and white drones lifted off from the back of the truck, small silver tanks of fire retardant underneath.

  “I’m in Denver,” James explained, watching the firefighters with a frown. “For the opening of Nadina’s new restaurant, but I’m at this charity thing. Whatever, that shit’s not important. The important part is, Nadina probably just got kidnapped by an HDL terrorist group called the Defenders of Hope.”

  Davion gasped. “Woah, brah. Where did she get kidnapped from?”

  “From the building I’m parked right outside of. You can trace my phone. Her phone is still here.” James gritted his teeth. “I need leads ASAP. If we wait for her security and the cops, she might end up with her throat slit. Her security chief allowed too many holes in her security. The HDL bastards EMPed the area, so I’m doubting the cops are gonna be able to get anything off local cameras, but the cops also don’t have you.”

  “Damn. That’s some intense shit.” Keys clacked in the background. “Rescuing a hot kidnapped celebrity? Does Shay know?”

  “Just fucking do it,” James growled. “This is important. She’s a friend, and this is about barbeque.”

  Davion tormented James with his offkey humming for the next few minutes as he continued his efforts without any complaint. The same laidback nature that rubbed James the wrong way also made the man always happy to do his job, even in stressful situa
tions.

  I know he can find her. I just need to be ready.

  James had pulled out the parking lot and was on his way back to his hotel. The cops might have had questions for him, but their procedures would slow things down, and the local police didn’t have access to resources like a highly skilled infomancer. This wasn’t an investigation; this was a race.

  “Huh. That’s kind of weird,” Davion reported. “Kind of annoying, too.”

  James stopped at a red light and looked around the area as if he would get lucky and see a bright yellow van with HDL KIDNAPPERS written on the side zooming past instead of just some asshole in a Lexus and a scared-looking teenage girl in a car with a STUDENT DRIVER sign.

  “What’s annoying?” James asked, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he waited for the light to turn.

  “Well, she’s famous, right, brah? Nadina. And I’m thinking these HDL dickwads aren’t friends with a lot of high-powered magicals, so I figured I’d just make this shit easy and track directly with a little of the old magic.” Davion sighed. “But no dice. Damn. I can’t home in on Nadina with a straightforward tracking spell. If I got my hands on something personal and important to her, I might be able to rig a short-range directional tracking spell, but, uh, you’re, like, there, and I’m, like, ‘Yeah, that’s not going to work.’”

  James accelerated as the light turned green, his jaw tight. “There’s personal shit I can get from her, but you’re right. We don’t have time to mess around. If they’re blocking your tracking spells, that means they do have a wizard.”

  “Maybe. A few of the militant HDL cells have got a few wizards to help them, but that shit’s rare.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I can take down wizards easily enough.” James hoped it was a wizard. Straightforward enemies provided straightforward targets.

  Davion sighed. “I’m betting it’s not that. Sorry, brah, but I’m guessing they’re using an artifact to block things. There’s no way for me to tell from here, but that’s what my gut says.”