“Don’t be a pussy,” Shorty added. “Besides, this Bruno fucker is twisted as shit. We need to get him off the streets. Fucking beating women so severely they end up in the hospital. Fucking messing their faces up on purpose.”
“He don’t kill them, though,” Travis offered. “And they mostly hos, right?”
The man withered under Shorty’s intense glare. “I don’t give a shit if they hos or not. That’s bullshit. Strong men don’t beat down women.” His hands curled into fists. “I hope Bruno Thomas tries to put up a fight. I’m gonna show him what a real beat-down is.”
Trey spared him a glance but didn’t say anything. The Brownstone Agency was supposed to keep it professional, but Bruno Thomas was a piece of crap. Like Shorty, Trey half-hoped he would put up a fight so they could get in a few free hits.
Shorty didn’t like to talk about it, but his father had been an abusive asshole. The only reason he stopped beating Shorty’s mother was that the teenager had stabbed him.
He didn’t serve time because his father was too afraid to get the cops involved, but he forced Shorty out of the house. Everything ended after that. His mother left his father and moved out of state.
Trey slammed on the brakes, and everyone strained against their seatbelts.
“What the fuck?” Deshawn yelled from the back.
“It’s the guy we’re looking for. Come on, bitches. Let’s start earning our money.”
Trey threw open the door and sauntered to a tall, pale man in a trench coat lingering near a building, more an emaciated ghoul than a human being.
Look at this fucker. He looks like a freak. No sense of style at all.
The rest of the bounty hunters emerged from the vehicle until a half-dozen suited men loomed around the man in the trench coat.
The man looked at Trey and licked his lips. “Shit. You Jehovahs are getting a lot more in-your-face these days.”
Trey chuckled. “We ain’t here about God. It’s more like we’re looking for the devil. People tell me you’re called Captain Happy?”
“Yeah, brother, I’m Captain Happy. I’ll make you happy. Is that what this is about?” He pulled open his trench coat to reveal pouches lining the inside. “I got lots of shit. You like dust? I got premium dust.” The drug dealer looked at the gathered bounty hunters. “I’ll even give you a group discount. Don’t want no one ever saying they left the Captain unhappy.”
Trey shook his head. “Ain’t here for drugs. Brownstone Agency don’t do drugs.”
“Brownstone Agency?” Captain Happy’s eyes widened. “As in James Brownstone?” He swallowed.
Trey offered the man a cold grin. “The one and only. We’re his boys, and we do shit for him in LA and Vegas.”
The drug dealer shook his head. “This is bullshit. I don’t got no bounty on me. None. I’m a criminal. I’ll cop to that, but no fucking bounty. So no fucking bounty hunter should be coming at me.”
Trey snorted. “Hey, now, don’t piss yourself.”
The bounty hunters chuckled. Deshawn, Shorty and Travis circled around to cut off Captain Happy’s escape.
“We know you got no bounty,” Trey continued. “We ain’t here to bring you in, and as far as I know, you ain’t shoving drugs down kids’ throats or nothing, so we ain’t even here for a free beatdown.”
The drug dealer’s breathing turned ragged. “Then what are you here for?”
“A little info. Fuck, we’ll even pay for it. We ain’t thugs. Not no more anyway.”
Trey wondered if Smooth Trey would be a better persona for dealing with Captain Happy, but the problem was that the guys didn’t respond well when he shifted away from the gangster speak they were used to.
“O-okay. I can give you some info. Sure, sure. Like I said, don’t want anyone leaving Captain Happy saying they’re unhappy.” He laughed nervously.
“So a little birdie told me that you know where Bruno Thomas is hiding out.” Trey braced an arm against the wall over the drug dealer’s shoulder. He leaned in. “I need to fucking know where he is. ‘Cause that bitch, he does have a bounty. Big one.”
Captain Happy shook his head. “If I squeal on him he’ll kill me.”
Shorty grunted. “Maybe he won’t get the chance if you don’t.”
“Come on. He’s Connected, you know. Even if you get him, they might come for me.”
Trey leaned in to whisper, “We’re not leaving Vegas without Bruno. I don’t know what my boys will do if you say no.” He leaned back and grinned.
Brownstone would beat our asses if we thugged out on someone like this bitch, but it’s not like he knows about it.
The drug dealer scrubbed a hand down his face. “Okay, okay, okay. I’m just a businessman, you know? I don’t even know the fucker. I happened to see him because he’s staying in this fancy house on my weekend sales route. Nice neighborhood.”
Trey snorted. “You sell in a nice neighborhood?”
“Yeah, sure. At a premium. The soccer moms get off on buying their drugs from a sleazeball, you know? It’s kind of a show. I really play it up.”
Trey couldn’t hate the man for his game—at least as long as he cooperated.
“Give me an address, and me and my boys disappear from your life like a nightmare that you forget when you wake up.”
Captain Happy rattled off an address.
Trey patted the man on the shoulder. “You’re all right, Captain.” He pulled his wallet out, yanked out a few bills, and slapped them in the drug dealer’s hand before he turned back toward the Expedition. “We got ourselves a gangster to chat with, boys.”
Trey parked up the street from the two-story home. On their drive past, they spotted cameras and a drone. Bruno was a paranoid fuck, for sure.
“He’s got a gate and a fence,” Travis complained. “How we supposed to get near him?”
Trey snorted. “We climb it, bitch.”
“The cops will be here in seconds if we start climbing some rich asshole’s fence.”
“You still thinking like a gangbanger and not like a bounty hunter. We on the side of the law now, bitch.” Trey pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Brownstone warns the cops all the time about shit.” He tapped in a quick text to Sergeant Choi explaining the situation and how they were about to go after Bruno Thomas.
“What if the cops show up right away? We’ll lose our bounty.”
Trey’s phone chimed with a text from Sergeant Choi.
Thanks for letting me know, Trey. I’ll pass the info along. Even if you don’t want to move on Thomas, keep him there until we can get there.
Trey offered his best Brownstone grunt to Travis. “Shit don’t work like that. You fuckers should listen when I explain this shit. The cops show up and tag Bruno, we get a reward for that, but if we already have him when the cops show up, we get the full bounty.” He opened his door. “So, we’re not gonna pussyfoot around coming up with complicated plans.” He pressed the button on his key fob to open the back hatch. “I’m the only fucker smart enough to have a vest on. Get some vests from the back. Bruno ain’t playing, and give me that small case back there.”
Everyone exited the SUV and walked to the back to put on the bulletproof vests, each of which were adorned with the words ‘Brownstone Agency’ in stylized letters.
“When did we get this shit?” Shorty asked as he strapped on his vest.
“Auntie Charlyce suggested it. It’s all about branding, you know. The suits, the vests… We want fuckers to know who we are and the pain we’re gonna fucking bring them.”
Deshawn handed Trey the case. “What’s in there?”
“Now that we’ve been making some money and not acting like fools, the big man has been able to get some upgrades to our licenses.” He popped open the case to reveal three sonic grenades. “Which means we can use better toys.” Trey pocketed one grenade. “Shorty and Manuel, you each take one. Remember, you gotta use this shit from at least ten feet away unless you want to go down too. Everyone grab a
stun gun from the box in the back, too.”
A couple more minutes passed until the men were armed and armored.
“Bruno’s an arrogant piece of shit, so I’m not worried about him running. We’re going right at him, and we’ll see what he has to say.” Trey nodded to the assembled men. “It’d be badass if we could all Sun Tzu Bruno into giving up without fighting and shit, but a fucker like him isn’t gonna piss his pants like Captain Happy. We need his ass alive for the money, but don’t be a fucking hero. Just because we’re in the Brownstone Agency don’t mean we’re Brownstone. You know what I’m saying?”
The other bounty hunters nodded.
“Good. Let’s do this shit.”
Trey sauntered down the road, the other men falling in behind him in an inverted wedge formation. A few people peeked out their windows at the well-dressed bounty hunters in their vests, perhaps mistaking them for a stylish FBI team.
They arrived in front of Bruno’s gate, and Trey decided to go for the direct approach. He pushed the call button near the gate.
“Yeah?” came a rough voice over the intercom.
“Bruno Thomas. My name is Trey Garfield. You have sixty seconds to get your ass outside and into my motherfucking cuffs. If you do that, you won’t end up busted up.”
A harsh laugh came over the intercom.
A few seconds later, a different rough voice responded. “Who the fuck is Trey Garfield, and why should I care?”
“I’m a bounty hunter, dipshit. As are all my boys. I don’t care if you got a few friends in there.”
“Bounty hunter? Listen, you piece of shit. Do you know who I am?”
Trey laughed. “Yeah, bitch. If I didn’t know who you were, why would we be here?”
Bruno growled. “You think you can fuck with someone like me? Someone Connected?”
“Oh, big scary Mafia guy, huh? Fuck you, bitch. We’re not just bounty hunters. We’re bounty hunters with the Brownstone Agency. James motherfucking Brownstone ain’t afraid of no pissant mobsters.”
“Fuck you. You’re not Brownstone. Come and get me, you pieces of shit. I’ll fucking kill every last one of you.”
Trey sighed and looked over his shoulders at his boys. “The talking plan failed. Time for the ass-kicking plan. When we get up there, Shorty will take the door. Everyone else spread out. We’re gonna work this fucker’s nerves. Smash the windows and shoot the door out.”
Deshawn frowned. “We’ll get cut up if we climb in through windows.”
“We’re going in the front. Just want to distract the fucker. Everything we’ve heard about Bruno says he’s tough, but he ain’t too bright. Time to use that against him.”
Trey moved away from the gate and jumped on the fence. No electric shocks or sniper blast nailed him.
This ain’t so bad.
Soon, all the bounty hunters were over the fence.
Trey snorted. Bruno had made a huge mistake hiding out in the upscale suburban neighborhood. They had enough paranoia about crime to include fences and cameras, but not enough experience with actual threats for decent defenses.
The bounty hunters fanned out on either side of the front door.
“We got at least two bitches insides,” Trey explained. “Shit can get annoying if we kill someone, especially if they don’t have a bounty. So even though the asshole might be Bruno’s friend, just knock his ass out. We don’t have that long before 5-0 shows up.”
Shorty moved to the front door. Trey held up three fingers, then two, then one. When he dropped the final finger, Shorty shot out the front lock. He spun back to the wall in time to avoid the bullets ripping through the door from the other side.
“That bitch tried to shoot me,” he grumbled.
Trey laughed. “It wouldn’t be fun if it was too easy.” He nodded to the men on either side. They smashed the windows with their pistols and ducked. Bullets whizzed over their heads.
Shorty threw open the door and rushed inside, with Trey close behind.
Two large men in tracksuits stood at the base of the stairs, pistols in hand. Trey and Shorty leapt to either side as the men opened fire.
Trey yanked the sonic grenade out of his pocket, pressed the button, and hurled it toward the stairs.
Damn, that was a good throw. I should have played baseball.
The two idiots tried to run instead of jumping away. The grenade whined, and both men clutched their ears and collapsed to the ground, moaning. Their guns clattering to the hardwood floor.
Trey rushed to the stairs, his gun raised. The other four bounty hunters ran in. Deshawn and Travis jogged over to secure the men.
Shorty rushed up the stairs.
“Shorty, wait,” Trey shouted.
“Fuck waiting. Bruno has an appointment with my fist.”
“Y’all secure this floor,” Trey ordered before hurrying after Shorty.
Three bedrooms with closed doors taunted them. Shorty kicked open the door of the first. No one was inside. Trey threw open the door to the second. The other man was at the third before Trey had finished with the second.
“Hold up, Shorty,” Trey called. “We’re doing this smart.” He advanced toward the door. “You throw open the door on three. You feel me?”
Shorty nodded, his face locked in an angry mask. He was hungry for Bruno.
“Three…two…one.”
Shorty flung the door open, and Trey pointed his gun. A flash of silver caught his attention. He jerked to the side as an aluminum bat knocked his pistol out of his hand.
Bruno Thomas stood beside the door with a crazed look on his face.
Trey gritted his teeth, his heart speeding up. His hand dropped to the stun gun, but Shorty burst past his boss and tackled the bounty before the mobster could bring his bat back. The weapon flew out of his hand and onto the nearby bed.
Both men fell to the floor, and Shorty delivered a few vicious punches to the criminal’s face, bloodying his knuckles.
“Fuck you,” Shorty shouted. “You’re going down, you woman-beating piece of shit.”
Bruno wrapped his hands around Shorty’s throat and started squeezing. “Fuck you. Nobody brings down Bruno Thomas. Nobody.”
Shorty’s eyes bulged, and his punches grew weaker.
Trey snatched his gun from the ground. “Roll out of the way, Shorty. I ain’t got no shot.”
Bruno laughed. “Don’t matter now, bounty hunters. You can take me in, but I’m killing this fuck—”
The criminal writhed and let out a loud moan. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his hands fell.
Shorty gasped for breath, and that was when Trey spotted the stun gun jammed into Bruno’s side. The other bounty hunter rolled Bruno over and fished out his handcuffs. “Kill me? Bitch, please. You need to be magic and shit to even have a chance.”
Trey kept his weapon trained on Bruno until the huge man was handcuffed. “From now on, we all carry stun guns for all jobs.”
Shorty smirked. “It was fun shocking his ass, for sure.”
Bruno groaned, and a stain spread on the front of his pants.
Trey chuckled. “Guess I was wrong. He did piss his pants.”
James frowned as he followed Tyler into his office. The information broker claimed he had something that could benefit them both, and the bounty hunter figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by and see what the snake had to say.
He still didn’t trust the asshole, especially after that bullshit with Tyler throwing women at him, but the man hadn’t steered James wrong by sending him to Anna Forsythe. The prick could be annoying, but he could also be useful, and James hoped this would be one of those times.
Tyler settled into his chair behind his desk, a fake smile plastered on his face.
James remained standing, arms crossed.
Surprised he doesn’t have more groupies around to ambush me.
The amulet’s whispers had an air of boredom.
Hey, my job isn’t all ass-kicking 24/7. Get used to it or sh
ut the fuck up.
Tyler folded his hands in front of him. “I don’t like you, Brownstone. I’ve made that very clear. But just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I refuse to acknowledge your skills.”
James grunted. “Thanks. Not like I give a shit.”
“You’re as charming as usual. Anyway, the point is, some of the recent shit with Tessa Vansant and those Drow got me to thinking about the safety of Los Angeles.”
“What, you suddenly give a fuck?”
Tyler shrugged. “I have an interest in my city not being blown up by psychotic magical assholes, same as you.” He leaned back. “So I’ve decided to change my policy.”
“What policy?”
“I told you before that anyone above level three had earned my respect and my silence, and I stick by that. I can’t tell you where bounties are.”
James frowned. “You called me here to jerk my chain?”
The amulet whispered something dark and angry.
Tyler held up a hand. “Get some fucking patience, Brownstone. Like I said, I can’t tell you where bounties are, but there’s nothing wrong with me maybe telling them where you are, and if you happen to know they’re coming and you’re in a nice, safe place away from innocent people? Well, everyone wins, right? You get to take down a criminal without worrying about anyone getting hurt.”
James snorted. “You just want to send criminals after me.”
“No, no, no. I’d do this on a case-by-case basis, and only with your permission. You’d feed me the info I’d give them, so it’d all be completely under your control.”
“You’re not this fucking generous. What’s your angle?”
“I don’t have an angle. I just care about the safe—”
“What’s your fucking angle?” James bellowed, the grinding quality of his bass voice even more pronounced than usual. “I’m not agreeing to jack shit until you tell me the truth.”
Tyler let out a long sigh and shrugged. “Okay, you got me. I was thinking I could record some of this shit. Before I was thinking about maybe getting AET on site for recording, but that might not be necessary if you’re picking the site. You could set up cameras. We record it and I sell it, you know, like pay-per-view. Basically, kind of like a fight promoter.”
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