Two of the surviving men glanced down at their rifles, their mouths tight.
“If those were your big plan, you’ve failed.” James shrugged. “If it’s not clear, I’m James Brownstone, and I’ve taken down a lot tougher fuckers than you, but you’re in luck. If anything, it’s your luckiest fucking day ever.”
“Luck?” one of the men called back, incredulity flavoring his voice.
“Yeah, because I don’t really give a shit about you or your stupid terrorist bullshit,” James rumbled. He nodded toward the house. “I know you brought Nadina here, so drop your weapons and hand her over. That’s the only way you walk out of this breathing. Your bounties aren’t even that high, and you’re terrorist dipshits, so I don’t care whether you survive. Choice is on you, but I want it very, very clear that if this ends with you all dead, I’m not gonna lose any sleep, and I doubt anyone in Denver will either. They’re just gonna go on the news and say, ‘James Brownstone kills terrorists.’”
The men exchanged looks. One of them swapped in a new magazine, his eyes narrowed.
Kill the enemy, Whispy insisted. Kill the enemy!
I can’t kill them all. I might need them for a code or some shit like that. They might have weird restraints on Nadina.
Kill the enemy. Symbiont disruption of restraints possible.
James’ eyebrows lifted. Whispy had a good point, but he couldn’t be sure. They might have placed a bomb on Nadina, and disarming bombs by the typical Brownstone method would probably involve a large explosion.
Damn it. Why can’t shit be simple? Nothing sadder than a stubborn idiot about to die.
James patted his bullet-riddled shirt. The few minor scratches and abrasions on his body had already healed. “Here’s the thing,” he shouted. “I don’t give a shit about your grand mission or rants or whatever. You get that, right? I’m not going around the country kicking HDL ass. I’m supposed to be retired, and I’m supposed to be having a relaxing road trip focused on barbeque, not people kidnapping pitmasters. Do you have any idea how many pieces of shit there are in LA?”
The men blinked. One man shrugged. Another man offered a guess of two hundred.
“There are a lot, that’s my fucking point. Plenty there with bounties are getting taken down, but plenty who are just garbage don’t have bounties or my attention.” James grunted. “Because they mind their fucking business, so they don’t end up dead.” He waved his gun. “These days I only come after people as personal favors, in defense of friends and family or in defense of barbeque. It just so happens in this case, we’ve got all three going on.” He took a menacing step forward. “Now, I’m done talking. Hand over Nadina or get ready to go to Hell.”
“Full auto!” screamed of one of the men. “Waste his ass! We just have to whittle down whatever shield he’s using.”
You poor, stupid bastards.
The garage door groaned and began to rise.
More reinforcements? Or are they trying to run? Shit, they might be running with Nadina.
The men flipped their fire selectors and pulled their triggers. Bullets swarmed James like he had kicked over a large wasp’s nest. More glass shattered behind him, and wood cracked. The projectiles ripping through the house showered wood fragments all over the front.
The sheer volume of shots forced James back, leaving scratches and abrasions all over his unarmored body and further shredding his shirt. It was little more a few thin scraps now, and his embedded amulet was visible.
The garage door continued opening to reveal a dark van with tinted windows. The cloud of bullets shots made it difficult to pick out targets. Difficult, but not impossible.
I need to end this shit. They’re just trying to stall.
James growled and put two rounds into each man. The last two survivors backed away, uncertainty on their faces as they swapped in new magazines and continued firing, only to die a few seconds later when he shot them in the head.
He’d given them chances only because he was worried about Nadina. They had chosen to die.
After tossing his gun to the ground, James yanked a small magical coin out of his pocket, another Shay treat, and slapped it against the amulet. The tendrils shot from Whispy to cover his body and combined to form his armor. He’d briefly considered using it before, but losing a shirt wasn’t as wasteful as using a magical artifact to fuel a transformation.
It had been a long time since he’d been able to summon the rage necessary to transform without a Shay treat, but it’d been a long time since someone had done something as spectacularly idiotic as threaten Alison or Shay to his face. Even when he’d gone after the dark wizards, he had felt more irritation than anger.
The van shot forward and zoomed down the driveway, bouncing after going through a small dip separating the driveway from the street.
Extended advanced was overkill for a bunch of fools with probably nothing better than anti-magic bullets, but he needed to take out the van before they escaped with his friend. Firing his .45 at random might end with Nadina getting hit, and he doubted her kidnappers had put a shield around her. They hadn’t intended to use her as a hostage or human shield, but that didn’t make her any less of one.
James’ transformation was complete about the same time the van hit the street. He didn’t bother with a helmet since he couldn’t spare the few seconds it took his eyes to interface with the expanded vision system of the armor.
The van rumbled as the driver made a hard turn. His effort left a streak of rubber when he floored it, and the vehicle shot forward.
No, you don’t, asshole. You’re not getting away.
James leapt, his enhanced legs propelling him high into the air and right toward the fleeing van. He retracted his arm blade as he closed on the back of it. Stabbing where he couldn’t see was too risky. He had no idea if Nadina was lying down or sitting up, or where she might be in the van. Time for other options.
With a roar, James landed and raked the top of the van, his claws sparking as they sank into the now-dented roof. The vehicle accelerated, but no fireballs or gunfire blasted through the roof. No strange swords or spears, either.
This shit won’t end like that thing in Barcelona. Do they not know I’m up here? The roof is dented. They have to be able to see that, or maybe Nadina’s tied up in the back by herself.
James bounced as the vehicle turned, but his claws anchored him it. With a growl, he tore into the roof and yanked it open. He dropped into the back of the van, expecting an imprisoned Oriceran pitmaster and maybe a few terrorists or a bomb.
There was nothing in the back but some road flares and a few stray shell casings.
What the hell? Those idiots have the hostage up front?
Kneeling, James frowned. He climbed back onto the roof and flipped himself onto the front of the van, his claws gripping the side and top of the front window. He was now close enough to see inside despite the tinting.
A scowling man sat at the wheel. He gritted his teeth, raised a pistol, and began firing. Cracks spiderwebbed from the impact holes, and the bullets bounced off James’ armor. There was no one in the passenger seat or the back seat, which raised an obvious question.
Where the fuck is Nadina?
James lunged and smashed his clawed, armored hand through the windshield to rip out the throat of the terrorist. The man slumped forward on the wheel.
The van jerked, turning so hard that it flipped on its side, sparking and crunching as it scraped the road. Glass fragments from the side mirrors littered the asphalt, sparkling in the sunlight.
James let go of the now-defunct vehicle and hit the street, the collision barely registering through his armor. He rolled several times before hopping to his feet with a growl, trying to figure out what the hell had gone wrong. Had the van been a distraction? Was Nadina still in the house?
He jerked his head around, but he didn’t see any other vehicles other than a newly arrived police drone flashing red and blue circling high overhead.
&
nbsp; Another mighty jump sent James back toward the house. Sirens sounded in the distance, but he didn’t care. The local police weren’t going to mind that much that he’d finished off a few terrorists.
Surprised they didn’t rant about their big manifesto like that idiot at the protest.
With a loud thud, James landed in front of the porch. He kicked in the door, expecting more enemies, but there was nothing inside except leather furniture and a few empty bookshelves.
They’ve got to have her stashed somewhere, and I’m not waiting for the cops.
“Nadina?” James bellowed. “It’s James. Are you here?”
The only response was the quiet hum of the air conditioner.
James charged around the house, throwing or kicking open each door, whether room or closet. Two large metal crates filled with rifle magazines occupied the master bedroom, but otherwise the house looked like any other reasonably furnished suburban home, and it conspicuously lacked his missing Light Elf pitmaster.
James growled. “What the fuck is going on?”
Lights flashed from the outside as multiple police cars pulled up. James grunted and ignored them before popping open the entrance to the attic and poking his head inside. The insulation looked like it needed some work, but Nadina wasn’t there either. There was no basement in the house.
Well, shit. Now I wish I hadn’t killed everyone. I’ve got no fucking leads.
No additional adaptation gained during encounter, Whispy reported. All damage regenerated. Combat efficiency remains maximal. Efficiency improvements recommended for future encounters of similar nature.
James grunted. “This kind of thing is why I retired.” He stomped toward the front porch. Multiple police officers had out their weapons and were crouched behind their vehicles, anxious expressions on their faces. Considering the bodies littering the front lawn, that wasn’t unreasonable.
Their eyes widened as the armored bounty hunter emerged.
“Put down…” a cop began, then blinked. “Wait. You’re James Brownstone.”
“Yeah, I’m James Brownstone.” He nodded toward the house. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing left to do because there’s no one left alive. I was looking for Nadina.”
The cop nodded. “And?”
“And nothing,” James growled. “She’s still missing.”
Chapter Twenty
James stared up at the ceiling fan in his hotel room, his head resting in his hands. Nadina was still gone, and he had no idea where to even begin looking. Every minute that ticked by meant more danger.
Davion was running his algorithms and filter spells on camera and drone recordings, but he’d already confirmed no other vehicles had left the house or the neighborhood during the fight. The van couldn’t have been a distraction if they weren’t covering for anyone.
I fucking missed something. Maybe those guys never thought they could beat me. They stalled me. Did they portal her out of there?
James frowned. If the kidnappers had that kind of magic, they wouldn’t have had to rely on some of the tricks they did, and he doubted they would have tried to stop him with a few rifles. Alison could probably give him a decent fight if she went full-out, and even she couldn’t open portals on command.
No. There was something else.
The whole thing was like a sauce recipe missing a key spice. Something was missing, something that would make everything come together and point to the location of the missing elf, but he couldn’t distinguish the flavors well enough to figure out the missing ingredient.
The police were equally clueless. They had taken a brief statement from James before letting him go. They still needed to verify that the dead men belonged to the Defenders of Hope, but they had already explained that James’ violation of the live capture requirement meant he would likely get only a small fraction of the money, if any. They weren’t planning to arrest him since it was clearly self-defense, but they didn’t like the fact that he had killed everyone.
James didn’t care about the money. The bounty had been an excuse to justify getting involved originally, but now that the terrorists had made their move against his friend, the pocket change wasn’t important. His only regret he was that he had no one left to interrogate.
I assumed she would be there. Why wouldn’t she be there? It’s not like they left her at the youth center. The cops are still all over that place.
“Fuck.” James sat up and curled his hands into fists. What had he missed? The kidnappers had grabbed Nadina at the youth center. The security teams had been patrolling the building and outside. Maybe the kidnappers had hidden in a car in the parking lot and waited for their opportunity, but that meant there was a good chance of a cop or security seeing them. That sort of plan seemed too risky.
Maybe I should start carrying a spare receiver. If I had been in touch with Davion, he might have been able to help me.
James sighed and shook his head. Most of the incidents he had stumbled into since retirement were more straightforward than finding a Light Elf pitmaster who had been kidnapped by terrorists. The more extra equipment he carried around, the more he risked slipping back into being a bounty hunter and not a pitmaster.
I left the agency and the job behind. That part of my life is supposed to be done, and now I’ve got a new kid coming. That’s even more reason to not get drawn back into worrying about shitbags by default, but none of that helps me find Nadina right now. Fuck.
I went straight to that damned house. It still hasn’t been that long since I killed the Defenders. If they don’t have her on a plane and they didn’t use a portal, she still might not be that far away. I just have to find out where.
The thoughts lingered in his head for a few minutes before James’ phone came to life with a call from Davion. He picked it up and brought it to his ear. “You calling because you got something? I’m not in the mood for bullshit.”
“Yeah, brah. I got something you’ll like.”
“And what’s that?”
Davion took a deep breath. “There was a second vehicle. A car.”
“So the van was a distraction, but I thought you said…who cares.” James stood and frowned. “Okay, a car left from the house. Can you follow through cameras or satellites or some shit? I just need to know where they are.”
“No, no. You don’t get it. I was right before. No one left the house or the neighborhood during your fight. The second car left the youth center after the van. I just tagged the van first, so I concentrated on it, and I didn’t even think about another car leaving.” Davion groaned. “Shit. I wonder if they planned that on purpose. They might have worried that security would catch on, so they offered the van as bait.”
“So it was a distraction, just not the kind I thought?” James frowned. “Do you know where the car is now? These people are trying to be too cute, and that means they’re leaving themselves room to make a lot of bad mistakes.”
Davion sighed. “Yeah, I know where the car is, but there are a few weird things about all this. Things that make me kind of worry, you know?”
“Like what? I’m not worried about the Defenders. Their best efforts accomplished exactly jack and shit against me. Just point me at them.”
Davion clucked his tongue. “Okay, so, the van was like what you’d expect. It was stolen. They changed the plates, but the cops ran the VIN and figured it out. The car was different, though. The car was one registered to Nadina’s company, not stolen or anything. It was a vehicle the security team had used for a while.”
“So what? Where is it now?”
“The problem is the car drove downtown and stopped in a covered alley and never came out. I sent a hacked drone over there to check, and the car’s still there. Only residual thermals, by the way, brah.” Davion blew out a breath. “Not to be a freak, but even if she was dead in the trunk, it hasn’t been long enough. I’d still be able to pick up her heat. Trust me, I’ve been in that kind of situation before. I guarantee she’s not in that car. If she w
as? I don’t know, but she’s not there now.”
James grunted. “We can’t be sure she was ever in that car, and she wasn’t in the van, so we basically don’t know any more than we did before. That’s useless.”
“Sure, but she’s got to be somewhere, right?” Davion chuckled. “And stealing one of her company’s cars has got to mean something.”
“Yeah, the fuckers kidnapped her and stole one of her cars too, which means they were taking on more risk.” James shook his head. “That takes balls, but maybe they figured it’d look better for some stupid-ass propaganda video. They must have taken her from the car and transferred her to another vehicle, or they’ve got her stashed in a building near where they ditched the car. Was there a door near the car?”
“Yeah. The alley’s next to a big office building. There are thirty different companies in there, and it’s ten stories. That’s a lot of real estate to cover. If I start trying to hack everything, it might cause a lot of trouble, and it’ll take a while. I’ll do it if you want, but I’m not sure that is the best way to handle this.”
James considered driving over to the building and just marching into the lobby, but he doubted Nadina’s kidnappers controlled the entire building, or any of it. If he spun up thirty companies, the cops and the FBI wouldn’t help, and James didn’t even know if she was there.
At least I have a lead now, but I need to narrow this shit down. There’s got to be something else he can tell me.
James frowned. “You’re right. They might have just transferred her to a different vehicle. Wasting all our time without being sure isn’t the best play. You got anything else for me? I’d tell you to dig more, but we don’t have enough time to fuck around.”
“Oh, maybe it’s not the best time to tell you, but they’ve already got an ID on one of the guys you took down, and it’s kind of weird. Maybe that’s useful somehow.” Davion chuckled. “I decided to take a little stroll through the Denver PD system just in case, by the way. I kept totally under the radar, but just be aware that’s how I got the info. Anyway, the guy they IDed isn’t known to be associated with the Defenders or HDL. From what I can tell from a quick check, he’s a freelance dirtbag from Chicago who does kidnappings, hits, that sort of thing. He did a few years in prison, but he’s been out for a while. Why would the HDL hire someone to help them? Did they need more muscle? I can kind of see it, but these ideological terrorist groups don’t tend to do that kind of thing. A lot of criminals hate terrorists.”
Road Trip: BBQ And A Brawl (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 19) Page 16