Alison sighed. “Because I worry about you when you’re alone, and I know Aunt Shay is out of town.”
The bounty hunter grunted. “I spent a long time alone before I met her or you. I know how to handle it.”
“Just because you spent a long time alone doesn’t mean it felt good.”
A few seconds ticked by as James considered that. He couldn’t deny the truth, even if the girl wasn’t there to see his soul energy.
Shay and Alison filled a void in his soul he hadn’t even realized was there. His days before had been simpler but shallower, and all the barbeque in Las Vegas wasn’t enough to fill him with the satisfaction he felt now—not that he wouldn’t have minded a bounty or two.
James cleared his throat. “Thanks, kid, but I’m really okay. Just trying to make sure everything is clean for when you come home.”
“Home. I like the sound of that.”
“Good, I want you to.”
Alison laughed. “But I doubt you need to clean. I don’t think you could let a place get dirty.”
“It still gets dusty.”
“You’d probably have a heart attack if you started looking at my room and bathroom too closely.”
James chuckled. “I’m sure I could take it.”
“Maybe.”
They both laughed for a moment, then Alison sighed.
“Problem?” James inquired.
“There is something I guess I should tell you about.”
“If there’s a problem, just tell me and I’ll handle it.”
Alison let out a soft laugh. “It’s not that kind of thing, Dad.”
“What?”
James gritted his teeth. If Alison was being bullied at her magic school, he didn’t care how many witches and wizards were teaching there. He’d kick in their damned gate and knock some damned respect into those punks.
“I had a boyfriend,” Alison all but whispered.
“What?” James thundered. “A boyfriend? Who is it? I need their name, and you can tell them to expect a call from me.”
The girl groaned. “That’s the problem. Don’t you see?”
“What? Is he not treating you right? I don’t have any big bounties right now. I could fly there today for a little man-to-man with this little punk.”
“I said I had a boyfriend, not that I have one.”
James let out a little growl. “He dump you for some other girl? He thinks he’s too good for you? I can still have a ta—”
“He dumped me because he’s afraid of you, Dad,” Alison snapped. “We’d only been going out for two days.”
“Oh.” He tried to sound contrite even as satisfaction filled him.
Alison let out a sigh. “He didn’t know who my dad was when we started going out. It’s not like we go around school constantly using our last names, you know? Then it came up in conversation, and he was all, ‘Brownstone, like James Brownstone?’ So I admitted you were my dad, and he freaked out and told me we had to break up.”
“If he’s that chickensh—” James took a deep breath. “If he’s gonna run that easily, he’s not the right one for you.”
“I’m not looking for a husband yet, Dad. Just looking for a little fun.”
“Just saying.”
“And I’m just saying you’re not helping. Try to be less intimidating next time you visit.”
James could all but hear her glare through the phone.
“Sorry,” he offered. “I know it probably sucks. I’d try and give you more advice, but I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to dating. Maybe Shay can give you a call when she gets back.”
“No, I’m fine. I’m not really all that sad. It’s not like I fell in love with a guy I was only dating for two days.”
James resisted telling her how happy he was to hear that. Even if she wasn’t all that upset about the break-up, she didn’t need to hear her dad gloating about fucking with her love life from thousands of miles away.
“I promise to try and be less intimidating the next time I’m at the school.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” A few beats of silence passed before Alison continued, “And I’m not all that mad or anything, Dad. I get that you’re new at all this, and you’re still a lot better dad than Walt ever was.”
James chuckled darkly. All he had to do to be a better father than Walt Anderson was not sell Alison to gangsters—a low bar for sure. He’d still take the compliment.
“Thanks, kid. Can’t wait to see you.”
“I can’t wait to see you either. I should get going, but I love you.”
James smiled. All his tension faded with those simple words. “I love you, too, Alison.”
That evening the bounty hunter marched up the walk to his church. The men associated with the simple stone church surrounded by huge ash trees had been responsible for so much, including raising him and making him into the man he was today.
They took an alien and made him a God-fearing human, even if they didn’t know it. Someday they need to know the truth so the Vatican can reward them, especially for putting up with my ass.
On some days, he worried that the despair bug in Japan had been right and he’d been burdening Father McCartney too much, but for once his heart felt lighter. He’d gone a good week without killing anyone.
See, I’m already becoming a better man. A better human, even.
James made his way through the aisle separating the pews and toward the confessional booth. He slid the door open and stepped inside. The shadow of Father McCartney moved across the confessional screen as the priest took a seat.
The bounty hunter cleared his throat. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been a week since my last confession, but on the plus side, I have very little to ask forgiveness for.”
Father McCartney chuckled on the other side of the screen. “You’d be surprised at what God notices, my son, but please go on.”
“The only bad thing I’ve done this week was beat up a couple of rude, mealy-mouthed youths who tried to harass a woman.”
The priest sighed. “I see. But you didn’t kill them?”
“No. I just taught them a lesson.”
“How hard did you beat them?”
James couldn’t help but let a little chuckle escape. “I smacked them around a bit, but it was a lot less painful than them getting killed by the woman.”
“I don’t understand. This woman was dangerous?”
“She can be. Look, if you think about it, they came out ahead. I was almost doing them a favor.” James shrugged.
“I’m concerned that you’re associating with people so dangerous that you think beating someone up is a better solution than what they’d do.”
“That’s life, right?” James offered.
The priest sighed. “I suppose. Do ten Hail Marys later as penance and try and reflect on alternatives to violence, James.”
“I will, Father.” James turned toward the door but stopped. “I haven’t had a chance to check lately. Is everything going well with the orphanage?”
“Oh, that? Yes, quite well.” Surprise colored Father McCartney’s voice. “Very well, in fact. In addition to all the money you’ve provided, we have a new benefactor.”
“You do? That’s good to hear.”
“Yes. I must admit I’m surprised though. They are anonymous.”
“Not everyone wants praise.”
Father McCartney shifted on the other side of the screen. “You’re saying it’s not you?”
James shook his head. “Why would I play games like that? Haven’t I been straightforward with you about this the entire time?”
“I suppose you have. I also suppose I shouldn’t be upset that a Good Samaritan wants to help the children. Perhaps you’ve inspired someone.”
“Maybe.”
“Have a good evening, my son.”
“You too, Father.” He slid the door open and stepped out of the confessional booth.
James waited until he was back in
his truck before he pulled out his phone and sent a text:
Our gift to the church was received. I appreciate you handling the transfers. XOXO.
Lying to a priest in church might earn him a few frowns from the Big Man upstairs, but he was lying in the cause of helping the orphanage. That had to be at least worth a few points. Even after his earlier stock donation, the kids and the church still needed funds. If James had his way, he’d drown them in money enough to last until the Second Coming.
James started his F-350 and pulled away from the church, smiling. He’d always thought of himself a straightforward man, but between the donations and smuggling an artifact from Seattle, he was proving to the world that James Brownstone could get you coming or going if you weren’t careful.
His smile faded. Taking pride in making his life more complicated was a bad idea. The women in his life might be filling the hole in his soul, but damned if they weren’t pulling him into some swamp of complicated living.
His phone chimed with a text from Shay.
Don’t use shit like XOXO. You’re not a teenage girl, and I’m betting even Alison doesn’t do that.
“Yeah, women are the opposite of simple,” he muttered under his breath.
Trey pushed into the Black Sun but lingered just inside the door as he took in the motley assortment of criminals and cops filling the place. Unease settled into his stomach; neutral ground was unnatural. In the end, a man had to pick a side. That was just the way the world worked.
Hell, he had. He had been a gangbanger before, and now he was a bounty hunter. When people blurred the lines too much, shit got messy and everyone was less satisfied.
But it didn’t matter what he felt. The Black Sun was one of the most useful places to pick up info in LA. The owner and chief bartender Tyler might be a prick, but he was good at his job.
Time’s gonna come, asshole, when you’re gonna have to choose too. Make sure you pick the right side.
Trey jostled his way through the thick crowd and managed to find an empty stool at the bar. Tyler set a glass in front of him seconds later.
“A Manhattan, as usual,” the bartender explained with a smile.
“You’re a good bartender, I’ll give you that.”
“But not a good man?”
Trey snorted but didn’t say anything. If there was one thing he’d learned about Tyler, the man was obsessed with respect—even more than Trey was. Modulating his speech a little so as not to disrespect the bar owner would go a long way toward keeping him as a contact.
The junior bounty hunter had even considered dropping his gangster accent, but with that many criminals around, including the occasional gang member associated with his old enemies, it was a bad idea. Sometimes the mask needed to stay up.
“Ain’t no one a good man,” Trey replied. He took a sip of his Manhattan. “Not in the end.”
“Damn right.” Tyler stared at the other man for a moment and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
“You gave me a drink. That’s all you need to do.”
The bartender shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple. You see, on the one hand I respected what you were doing as a gang leader. You carved out a little space of your own, made a little money. Even managed to keep Brownstone from coming down on you. But now…” He gestured toward Trey.
“Now what?”
“Now you’re not a gang leader anymore. You’ve traded in your colors for a suit and working for that asshole Brownstone. I can’t respect that.”
Trey took another drink of his Manhattan. “So what’s that mean, Tyler? We gonna have an issue?”
“I’m not Brownstone. I don’t cause trouble for people who don’t cause me trouble. Not only that, you’re connected to not just him now, but also the cops, so fucking with you might cause me trouble.”
Trey snorted. “You know, today I ain’t here for anything but a drink. Maybe I need to go to a place that don’t judge me.”
“What’s that mean? Like where?”
Trey shrugged. “Shit, I don’t know. Maybe some bar run by the motherfucking Ku Klux Klan.”
Tyler winced. “That hurt, Trey. Whatever.” He shook his head. “The drink’s on me.” The bartender headed toward the opposite end of the bar, muttering under his breath.
Bitch, please. You wouldn’t even have all your fancy new tables if it wasn’t for James.
The bounty hunter gulped down his drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. His phone beeped.
The police had earmarked a level-two bounty for him, which meant the man most likely had special value as a witness. The quicker he was captured, the better.
Guess you’re right, Tyler. I’m not what I was. But we all have to choose a side in the end.
5
Dina hugged her legs to her chest and cried. Her daddy was dead, and Red Eyes had gotten away. The policemen had promised they’d do something, but they couldn’t win—not against a monster. Red Eyes had even told her so.
A policeman couldn’t kill a monster. They’d just die, too. She needed a magical knight like the one she’d seen in her favorite show, Brave Adventures of the Oriceran Princess.
The girl forced her crying down to mere sniffles. She needed to be strong for her daddy.
Dina hopped out of the cracked plastic chair in the sterile white room where the nice lady from Child Protective Services had told her to wait and picked up the remote control from the woman’s desk. She started flipping through the channels, and she’d gone through five when she stopped.
An image of a muscular man with a strange face dominated the screen. He was kind of ugly when she thought about it, with ridges and odd patterns all over his face.
“Class-six bounty hunter James Brownstone has been taking down the most dangerous bounties for years, but in this last year has gained fame for several high-profile bounty takedowns and his one-man war against the now-defunct Japanese criminal syndicate known as the Harriken.”
An old man in glasses who looked constipated appeared on the screen.
“We asked criminology expert Dr. Tasker from UNLV to give us his insights into this now-famous, or depending on who you ask, infamous man.”
Dr. Tasker cleared his throat. “The problem, you see, is that our entire society... No, our entire civilization, really, arose in a context where magic wasn’t that common, or at least not acknowledged. We’re still grappling with how to handle magical threats. Our laws and, quite frankly, law enforcement is inadequate for the task. Men like James Brownstone fill the gap. I’m sure in a decade or two more this will all smooth itself out, but if we didn’t have bounty hunters right now, society would quickly be overwhelmed by magical criminals.”
Dina couldn’t understand everything the old man had said, but she understood that James Brownstone went after magical bad guys.
She’d found her knight.
The door opened, and the woman from Child Protective Services entered. She looked at the television and frowned.
“Sweetie, you shouldn’t be watching something like that.” She turned the television off.
“You know James Brownstone?”
“James Brownstone? The bounty hunter?” The woman shrugged. “I’ve heard of him. He’s famous.”
Dina pointed to the television. “An old man on TV said Mr. Brownstone takes down magical bad guys.”
“He is a high-level bounty hunter, so, yes, I guess that’s what he does.” An uncomfortable look passed over the woman’s face.
“You should call Mr. Brownstone to get Red Eyes.”
The woman sighed and shook her head. “They don’t have a bounty out on the man who killed your father.”
“Wasn’t a man. Was a monster.”
“Of course he was, sweetie.”
Dina could tell the woman didn’t believe her.
The woman sighed before continuing, “The point is, men like James Brownstone… Well, he’s not a hero. He does it for money, and until they’re a high-level
bounty, he won’t care. He doesn’t even live in Las Vegas. He lives in Los Angeles. That’s far away, sweetie.”
Dina stuck out her lip and nodded. She didn’t understand why the woman wouldn’t help her call Mr. Brownstone, but it didn’t matter. She’d found her magical knight, and she’d bring him to Las Vegas somehow to kill Red Eyes no matter what it took.
Charlyce watched the front door of the building from across the street. No one paid much attention to the homeless woman as they walked past.
No one spoke to her or even turned their head her way. They didn’t want to see her. It’d make them too uncomfortable.
She was counting on it. Sometimes invisibility had its advantages.
Lieutenant Maria Hall was used to two things: getting what she wanted and yelling at people. She wasn’t as used to being on the receiving end.
The chief of police shook his phone in his hand. “Do you know what the report says, Lieutenant?”
“That we took down a dangerous magical threat, who, if left unchecked, could have killed or injured hundreds of people?”
The chief narrowed his eyes. “Twenty-four million dollars. You blew through twenty-four million dollars in seven minutes. How the hell are we supposed to pay for all of that?”
Maria crossed her arms. “AET was just supposed to let some dangerous threat wander through the city?”
“I read the report. You initiated the contact based on some anonymous tip. For all we know, some punk kid was trying to swat some witch because she beat them at some stupid video game.”
“With all due respect, sir, we didn’t fire until she attacked us. If she had been an innocent woman, that wouldn’t have happened. Not only that, but the evidence ties this woman to multiple murders on the East Coast. Interpol’s even getting involved now, saying she might be linked to other deaths in Europe. This wasn’t some random witch walking in the park. That was a magical hitman we took down.” Maria shot out of her chair. “Not only that, but this woman was linked to Brownstone. You’re bitching to me about a few million dollars here and there? What about that guy? How much damage has been caused in this city because of him going after people or vice versa?”
When Angels Cry_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure Page 4