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

by Michael Anderle

  “Damn. I was worried about that.”

  “Why is an artifact worse?” Davion asked. “It can’t set up counterspells—not that I couldn’t handle them.”

  James took a hard turn, his tires squealing. “Because it’s probably easier to keep it near her without needing a guard near her, which gives them flexibility. She’s not just some pitmaster, she’s a Light Elf. There’s a risk of her waking up and doing magic, like undoing the blocking spell.”

  “Totally. I can see it. Not to be, like, a total downer, brah, but why do you think they’ve just knocked her out instead of, like, totally killing her ass? Not saying I’d be happy. That’d be a big waste, but these are anti-Oriceran terrorists, and they don’t agree.”

  James grunted, his hands tightening on the wheel. “I thought about that at first, but it doesn’t make sense. I don’t think she’s safe, but we have at least a small window to save her.”

  “I know normal HDL might not be about killing people, but these militant splinter groups like the Defenders can get nasty. Did these guys say anything that makes you think they are going to try to ransom her or something?”

  “I wish.” James grunted. “No, nothing like that. I think they plan to kill her, just not right away.” He frowned. “These guys had the resources and plans to distract everyone. This wasn’t a bunch of dumbasses just charging in and dropping bombs. They didn’t even kill the security guard, even though they surprised them. They set off that alarm, but they then EMPed everything, which means they had reason to believe they could set the alarm off without being seen.”

  Davion chuckled. “That’s easy. That just means they need a computer dude who’s not a total dumbass. You don’t need magic to hack most systems, and that’s going to be true for a long time.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m just saying they were careful about all this shit. More careful than I would have expected. It’s not like I expected them to bomb a youth center, but gunning down a security guard and then gunning down Nadina in her kitchen and filming it would have accomplished their goals.”

  Davion sucked in a breath. “Dark, brah. This is why I like it when the agency goes after normal criminals. Greedy, uptight guys are easier to relate to than those crazy terrorist nutters.”

  “All of what I said keeps forcing me back to the same idea.”

  “The same idea? Shower me with wisdom, brah.”

  James changed lanes, his brow furrowed in thought. “All that shit means the Defenders have a lot of resources, and if this were just about killing Nadina right away, why not just kill her in the gym and leave her body for us to find? They might be terrorists, but they’re obviously not dumbasses. They have to know that taking her means her security, the cops, and I are gonna come after them hard, and right away.”

  “True enough,” Davion replied. “You sure they didn’t kill her and are just going to dump the body somewhere?”

  “When you’ve killed as many people as I have, you learn a thing or two about bloodstains.”

  Davion snickered. “James Brownstone, Forensics Master.”

  “Yeah.” James grunted. “There was a little blood in the building, but not enough to make me think anyone’s dead. They must have some other plan. I’m thinking they’ve got her, and they’re taking her somewhere else. They are terrorist fucks, so they probably want to make a propaganda video or some shit before they kill her, and that’s the window we have to exploit. It’ll take them time to drive to wherever their hideout is and film things. I might be wrong, and they might decide to hold her for a day and wait for things to calm down, but I’m not willing to bet Nadina’s life on it.”

  “That shit’s still pretty bad, brah. I mean, it’s cool that she’s probably still alive, but this doesn’t sound like it’s going to end all happy-like.”

  “Yeah, it won’t…for the Defenders,” James growled. “It also means we have time, just not a lot. Do your job, and I’ll do mine. If I come after them and they haven’t already killed her, they’ll probably keep her alive.”

  “How do you figure?” Davion asked.

  “They know they can’t win against me,” James explained. “So a hostage is the next best thing.”

  “Not like you can knock down a building if she’s in it,” Davion observed.

  “I’m not knocking down any buildings this time. I’m just gonna kill all the assholes inside them.” James’ nostrils flared. “Do what you can. You know how to do your job better than me. I’m gonna hang up, but call me once you have something I can use. I don’t give a shit how you get the information. Just get it quickly.”

  “Will do, brah.”

  James frowned at a passing police car. The cops hadn’t bothered to call him, but Cyrus had probably gone out of his way to discourage them. Maybe the police had found some subtle clue that had eluded him and were on their way to rescue Nadina. He didn’t care as long as it ended with captured or dead terrorists and a freed pitmaster.

  His phone rang with a call from Davion and James narrowed his eyes. It had been twenty minutes since he’d delivered his orders. Instead of returning to the hotel, James decided to circle the youth center with an increasing radius in the feeble hope that he might run across anything suspicious.

  Time to prove the power of tofu, Davion.

  “What do you have for me?” James answered gruffly.

  “I’ve got a location,” Davion responded, pride filling his voice.

  “Shit.” James almost slammed his brakes in surprise. “Really? I thought you couldn’t track her.”

  “Damn. That hurts, brah. Have some faith. I’m not just about the magic. Shit. I’m mostly not about the magic, and I’m not saying I can track her. I’m saying I used my sweet skills to figure out a location for a suspicious van that sped away from the back of the youth center. They loaded her into the van from what I can tell, but they were carrying her.” Davion chuckled. “Okay, so that’s kind of tracking her, but not the way you meant.”

  “Suspicious van?” James echoed. His early hope had been closer to reality than he anticipated. “And you know where the van is now?”

  “Yes. I know exactly where it is.” Davion took a deep breath. “Yeah. You see, I went and did a filter algo on a bunch of satellite images for the area. It’s not enough to get close images, but I could clearly make out them carrying and loading someone into the van, and I assumed it was her. So I started cross-referencing the times and then taking that data—”

  “I don’t care about any of the technobabble shit,” James snapped. “Just tell me where the van is.”

  Davion rattled off an address. “It’s a house. I hacked a nice drone, so I can tell you there are thermal traces of people inside, but the building doesn’t have any active internal cameras to hack, and they’re keeping the blinds closed, so long-range cameras aren’t helping. Straight-up, though, brah, there’s something weird about the house. My magic keeps getting blocked. So if they do have an artifact, it’s a little stronger than I thought, and it might be general anti-magic. Even if Nadina’s conscious, she might not be able to do much.”

  James snorted. “Not a problem. Anti-magic artifacts might contain an elf, but they’re not gonna do shit against me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Unlikely the enemy will present a significant threat or opportunity for adaptation, Whispy complained as James turned off the main road into a subdivision. Select stronger enemies for maximum adaptation. Inefficient use of resources can result in the development of poor tactical habits.

  James had pulled off the road a few minutes prior to bond the symbiont before continuing toward the address Davion had given him. He’d stayed with basic bonding. His armor wasn’t necessary yet.

  That sounds a lot like you saying, “Practice like you play, but only against quality opponents,” James sent. Don’t worry. Sometimes it’s fun to go through fuckers and not have to worry if I’m gonna blow up half the city. All these people keep giving me shit about blowing up buildings.

>   Collateral structure damage is irrelevant, Whispy insisted. And sometimes necessary for destruction of enemies. Destruction of enemies is of paramount importance.

  James snickered.

  Yeah, I don’t think people will buy it if I tell them it’s not important if I blow up buildings as long as I win. Don’t worry. I’ll make this shit quick. I’ll take those bastards out, grab Nadina, and head to the cops so they can protect her rather than that dipshit Cyrus. That guy couldn’t protect a baby cow from a bored vegetarian.

  GRANT ACRES WELCOMES YOU declared a large sign near a bubbling fountain. Thick algae choked the fountain. James hoped they weren’t paying high HOA fees.

  He didn’t spot any other cars in the subdivision, or anyone doing yard work. The fewer people around, the more he could cut loose if necessary. Taking down the kidnappers quickly would not only satisfy Whispy, but it would also reduce the danger to Nadina.

  Shit. This is why bounty hunting is less obnoxious than security work. I don’t know how Alison puts with having to protect and find people all the time. I would lose my damned mind if I had to do this kind of thing much.

  James had considered calling the police, but he preferred to be able to handle the terrorists in whatever manner he saw fit. Depending on what they’d done, the situation could easily shift. Nadina might not be a close friend, but she was a friend, and that meant an attack on her was an attack on him.

  It would be easy for James to send a message to people that they shouldn’t screw with anyone even tangentially associated with him. Considering how many people still screwed with Alison, though, the lesson hadn’t reached all corners of both worlds.

  The fuckers should have watched the news. Everybody in Denver knows I ran off those other HDL fuckers. Doing this while I’m still in town is like them asking me to show up and beat their asses. The only thing further they could have done was sent a handwritten invitation.

  The F-350 coasted to a stop across from the target house, an unassuming blue ranch fronted by a verdant lawn. Dark curtains concealed the inside. A long driveway flanked the lawn. Apparently, the Defenders liked their basic subdivision living style.

  Something about the house annoyed James. It wasn’t like he had been expecting a textbook evil hideout, but the presence of the otherwise normal house served as a reminder of the kind of dangerous scum who could be lurking around innocent people.

  Always wolves hiding in the woods, huh? They should have stayed hidden.

  James pulled his .45 and took a few extra mags from a concealed compartment under the glove box. Even if the terrorists had some sort of anti-tracking artifact, he doubted they had anything that could hurt him.

  They wouldn’t have been sneaking around otherwise. The basic reality was that if someone was capable of taking down James, they were capable of taking down the local AET and other bounty hunters without too much trouble.

  James grunted. This would be quick if the terrorists didn’t immediately surrender. He wasn’t all that concerned about a payout. He almost felt sorry for the bastards. Almost.

  The door flew open, and several scowling men poured out with large rifles.

  Okay, not going to waste time with bullshit games where you pretend you’re just a normal house. I can work with that.

  James chuckled. The terrorists’ eagerness assured him that he didn’t have to waste any time verifying if this was the right place. Kicking down some poor bastard’s door who was just minding his business might have led to a police misunderstanding. James was always aware that not all departments trusted him as much as the cops in LA and Vegas, but he didn’t have time to forge personal relationships with the police department of every major city in the United States.

  “Fine. They want to play, then let’s do this shit.” James threw open the door and jumped out of the vehicle, running several yards to put distance between the truck and him. If the Defenders opened fire, he didn’t want his truck to take any hits. Every time he needed it fixed, there was more risk they wouldn’t be able to, and he wasn’t convinced Oriceran mumbo-jumbo repair spells or potions would be able to repair his truck.

  Men continued coming out of the house.

  “This doesn’t have to end with you all dead,” James shouted. “But it fucking will if you don’t surrender right now. You assholes know who I am, and you know what I’m capable of, so give it up and give me Nadina.”

  A total of eight men emerged from the house, all pointing their guns at James. He slowly walked a few more yards away from the truck until he stood in the middle of the street. A glance over his shoulder revealed a FOR SALE in front of the house behind him. The blinds were open, and there was no furniture inside.

  The empty house, combined with the lack of other vehicles or signs of habitation, suggested that as long as he kept himself between the two houses, it lowered the chance of a stray bullet hitting anyone. Sometimes a man just got lucky.

  James snickered at the realization that the empty house was going to get shot up. Maybe he wasn’t so lucky.

  Everyone was right. He couldn’t handle the situation without some building getting damaged, even if he wasn’t the one who would be damaging it.

  I’ll cut whoever owns it a check when this is all over, but it’s not like I can invite the terrorists to an empty field.

  The men exchanged looks, some uneasy, some angry.

  One of the men took a step forward, his weapon pointed straight at James. “Turn around, Brownstone, and go. This has nothing to do with you, and we have no beef with you.” His voice wavered at the end.

  Yeah, this isn’t about saving me. It’s about saving you. You’re right to be afraid, asshole. It just might save your life.

  James shook his head. “It’s definitely my fucking business. Nadina’s a friend of mine, and shit, I might do this kind of thing even if it involved some prick like that Atticus Taylor. You don’t fuck with barbeque. I don’t care about your reasons or your philosophy or whatever. All I know is that you fuckers have Nadina and I want her back. Everything else is just irrelevant bullshit.”

  The gunmen exchanged confused glances. James didn’t care if they understood his reasoning as long as they accepted that he believed it. The risk to Nadina increased with every bullet fired.

  “You’re seriously not going to back off?” the man who had spoken earlier inquired. “This isn’t a bounty situation.”

  “Sure, it is. Level three on the Defenders of Hope.”

  The man’s face twitched. There was uncertainty in his eyes. James wasn’t quite sure about the thought process, but anything that might get him to surrender was fine.

  James shrugged. “I’ll make this shit easy for you. I don’t even need you to surrender. You can all leave. I just want Nadina.”

  “Take him down!” screamed the man.

  Fucking moron. I tried to give you an out, but you still had to be a dumbass.

  The men all pulled their triggers, and the loud crack of burst-fired rifle rounds disrupted the peaceful quiet of the suburban neighborhood.

  Birds shot from trees on several nearby lots. Some of the windows in the house behind him were shattered by bullets that missed James. If there was anyone actually at home in the neighborhood, they would soon be calling the police.

  Don’t have a lot of time, James thought as the first few bullets struck his chest and arms. I don’t want to have to spend time convincing the police I should be involved.

  Then maximize killing efficiency, Whispy suggested.

  It’s a live bounty. I should at least try to not kill them, right?

  Incorrect. Primary mission is female recovery. Eliminate the enemy with maximum efficiency.

  Having Whispy was like having Jiminy Cricket on his shoulder, if Jiminy Cricket were a homicidal sociopath who saw everyone else in the world as nothing more than a tool for making James stronger. But in this case, the symbiont was correct.

  Good point, James responded. Fuck it. I was thinking that earlier anyway. H
e grunted as a bullet bounced off his head.

  Without his armor layer, the shots hit him directly, but they accomplished little other than a sting and leaving a few scratches or the occasional mild laceration. The shallow wounds began healing immediately, small silver-green tendrils extending to knit the skin closed, leaving only a few bloodstains here and there. The sad reality for his enemies was that having eight men firing assault rifles at him was simply an inconvenience.

  Fuckers are gonna have to do a lot better than bullets if they want to have a chance against me.

  Maximum adaptation to attack type already achieved, Whispy reported. Kill useless enemies with maximum efficiency or end battle through other efficient method. Remember primary mission of recovering female.

  Hey, not every battle can be special, James sent. Sometimes we just kick the ass that’s in front of us. When you reach the championship, there are just gonna be fewer teams who can keep up with you.

  Teams are irrelevant. Please note, use of symbiont is unnecessary for low-level foes. Petulance flavored the thought.

  James snickered. Whispy was right, even if he obviously just wanted to finish a fight that wouldn’t end with additional adaptation material for him. Sitting there getting blasted by terrorist losers was pointless. It was time to grab Nadina.

  With a grunt, James whipped up his pistol and squeezed off three quick shots. Two men’s heads exploded and a third fell to the ground, his hand over his chest as blood blossomed from the new hole.

  You assholes should have at least worn bulletproof vests. Offense with no defense gets you dead damned quick.

  The surviving men ceased fire, indecision on their faces. The earlier speaker glared at James, his eyes burning with hatred.

  James sighed. “About now, you’ve got to be thinking, ‘Hey, we just put a hundred bullets into this fucker, and he’s still standing and doesn’t look messed up except for his clothes. If you’re not thinking that, you should be, because I’m sure a few of you are also using anti-magic bullets and are really surprised that they aren’t doing shit against me.”