When Angels Cry_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure

by Michael Anderle

  “I’ll be right back.” Tyler offered the woman a polite nod before heading to the thirsty and far-too-sober customer.

  Seconds turned into minutes, and by the time he glanced back at the front of the bar the woman was gone, her White Russian already polished off.

  “Fucking Brownstone groupies,” Tyler muttered under his breath.

  He smiled once he noticed Lieutenant Hall making her way through the front door and to the bar.

  The cop took a seat. “Just a Coke. No rum.” She held a tablet in her hand.

  “Still fighting the good fight, Lieutenant?”

  “Yeah.” Lieutenant Hall glared at him. “Since someone won’t give up information.” Her expression softened. “But I will say that the other thing I asked you about is working out, so thanks.”

  “Whatever I can do to help out my local AET team.”

  She smirked. “Get my drink ready. Have to hit the ladies’ room first.”

  As the lieutenant turned, Tyler got a glimpse of a webpage opened on her tablet. He couldn’t make out a lot in the few seconds of visibility, but what he saw was more than enough.

  Level-five bounty, Tessa Vansant.

  He knew the name. He’d heard she was coming into town before the cops, after all. What he hadn’t known before was what she’d looked like: a plain brunette with glasses. Unless Tessa had a twin sister, she’d downed a White Russian in his bar just before Lieutenant Hall’s arrival.

  Tyler sighed.

  No wonder nothing was stirring down south. My dick must have known she was a psycho.

  He snickered. At least that meant she wasn’t a Brownstone groupie.

  James sat on the hotel bed and scrolled through a few reports the police had sent over. He’d been worried about them coming after him, but instead, they were bending the rules to give him access to additional information so he could better track the bounty.

  He needed whatever help he could get, given that Las Vegas wasn’t his town. His local contacts were limited to barbeque experts, not information brokers or researchers.

  His phone rang, and to his surprise it was Alison.

  “Hey, kid,” James answered. “Break up with any new boys in the last few days?”

  Alison groaned. “No.” He swore he could hear the eye roll. “I wanted to make sure you know I’m okay with all that. I mean, not tonight. I went out with three girls from my school to a concert.”

  “And did those girls bring any boys along?”

  “No. It was just a girls’ night.” She let out a contented sigh. “But it was super-fun. No big magic or stress or anything, just a concert.”

  “That sounds good. You should do more of that.”

  “Go to concerts?”

  “Go to concerts without boys.”

  Alison laughed. “It wasn’t like it was a girls-only concert, Dad. There were a lot of boys and men there.”

  James’ voice became a growl. “Did any of them talk to you?”

  “No. Remember, you’re supposed to be calmer about this?”

  “I think I just promised to be less intimidating next time I visited the school, but I’m not even at the school.”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  James grunted. “Have to be me.”

  A few beats of silence ticked by, and he worried he’d pissed her off.

  “Dad, I have to be honest. That isn’t why I called.”

  “Why?”

  “I heard on the news that you’re in Las Vegas and you might be involved in a job there.”

  James took several deep breaths. Alison needed to see him for her lie-detection ability to work, but given everything she’d gone through, there was no reason to try and shield her from the harsh realities of the world they lived in.

  “Yeah. I didn’t come here for that; I came here for Jessie Rae’s. But it seems like everybody from Trey’s aunt to the cops were itching for me to get involved.”

  “Trey has an aunt?”

  “Long story. Anyway, this bounty—he’s bad news. Killing people in front of their kids. Might even have killed a little girl the first time if she hadn’t been out of reach.”

  Alison gasped. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s with CPS now.”

  “But you’re going to make sure she is safe, right, Dad?”

  James grunted. “That’s right, honey. I sure am, by whatever means necessary.”

  “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful.”

  “This guy isn’t a big deal. He’s just a level four.”

  James hadn’t brought his amulet, but he didn’t worry about needing it. If the bounty were a true threat, the asshole wouldn’t be hiding in the shadows so much.

  Alison sighed. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be careful, but that doesn’t mean I’m not taking this guy down.”

  “I never thought you wouldn’t,” Alison offered quietly. “I just want you to know that I’m proud of you, Dad. You saved me, and you save so many people.”

  “I’m just a bounty hunter.”

  “You forget, I can see your soul.”

  James stared at the phone. “Even from far away?”

  “Maybe,” the girl replied in a sing-song voice. “But it doesn’t matter, because I’ve seen it before. I know how beautiful it is, and I’m glad that you’re adopting me.” She sniffled. “I…I’ve got to go. Talk to you later, Dad. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Alison.”

  She ended the call.

  Something stung in the corner of his eye. James reached up and wiped away something as rare as him not liking barbeque: a tear.

  “Love isn’t simple, but it’s worth it.”

  James took a few deep breaths before rising from the hotel bed.

  Maybe God’s guiding me around to help orphans in a way only I can. Father McCartney would probably say so. Don’t know about that, but I know this asshole’s going down. Just need to find him.

  He nodded once and scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he needed. The phone rang on the other end several times.

  “Mr. Brownstone,” Peyton offered in a cheerful tone. “I’m guessing you’re calling because you want to donate to the Save-The-Peyton Charity Fund? Don’t worry, all donations, while not tax-deductible, come with free information attached.”

  “Yeah, got a few questions.”

  14

  Bile rose in Detective West’s throat. He’d worked a lot of murder scenes in his time in homicide, but it was going to require a lot of whiskey to wash the last week from his mind.

  He knelt next to a severed arm surrounded by rifle casings. They hadn’t found any weapons in the warehouse, but the three men had obviously been involved in a serious firefight before their deaths. Their killer must have taken the weapons with him.

  Detective Lafayette stood over a corpse missing most of its throat. It looked like an animal tore the flesh away. “You think this is our boy?”

  “Guys chopped up?” Detective West pointed toward the corpse near the other cop. “Guys who look like someone ate them?” He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m doubting that we’re such a freaky city that we’re going to get two weird-ass killers so close together like this. I’m sure once forensics examines the bodies, they’ll probably find bone particles in the wounds like they did with the parents. Nah, I’m confident we can add another three deaths to our boy’s list.”

  The other cop circled the body as a crime scene photographer took photos. “This doesn’t fit the MO, though. No kids involved, and I doubt these guys were just hanging out in a random warehouse. Judging by these shell casings, they were packing assault rifles. Not exactly the tourist crowd.”

  “Well-dressed thugs with guns? Connected, maybe?”

  Detective Lafayette frowned down at another corpse. “Something feels slightly off. I guess we’ll run their faces by the organized crime unit and see if they get any hits. The question is what they were doing here.”
<
br />   “You don’t show up with that kind of hardware unless you’re expecting serious trouble.”

  “Hunting then? But hunting what?”

  “Our boy, I’m guessing.”

  “Bounty hunters, maybe? They thought they had him, but he turned the tables on them.”

  Detective West reached into a man’s pocket with a gloved hand and fished out a wallet. He opened it. “Well, whoever killed them didn’t seem to care about making sure we didn’t know who they were. Got a driver’s license in here and a business card. No licensed bounty hunter ID card.”

  “What’s the business card say?”

  “Yeah, this poor sucker was, according to this, a ‘security specialist’ with Anders Laboratory.”

  Detective Lafayette shrugged. “Never heard of them.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to pay them a little visit. I’m doubting this is a coincidence.” Detective West shook his head.

  “What’re you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking someone tried to play God but ended up closer to the Devil.”

  Lance stomped down the street, glaring at random people along the way. He enjoyed seeing them move to the side, or in some cases, head to the other side of the street entirely. It was good to be back in Vegas after his vacation in Hawaii.

  He’d hated the place. Too much water. Too pretty. Too many people trying too hard to be relaxed. Give him a place like Vegas anytime. The energy invigorated him, and the harsh desert sun made him feel alive.

  Living in Hawaii made people soft. They had fucking paradise handed to them, but Las Vegas was a city carved out of the heart of the desert. It shouldn’t exist, but it did. It was a monument to man’s ability to rule over nature.

  A man met Lance’s gaze and quickly scurried off.

  Lance didn’t give two shits if people thought he was a dick. He was a class-four bounty hunter, which meant he was an officially-certified badass, and if people had a problem with it, they could move to another fucking city or kick his ass to prove he was a pussy.

  Vegas is mine, bitches.

  A man in a worn trench coat and sunglasses stepped out of a nearby alley. The poor fucker had some sort of skin condition, judging by the leathery skin covering his face and his tight mottled flesh. Maybe the fucker was dying.

  The bounty hunter couldn’t help it. He laughed.

  The man looked his way. “Problem?” His voice sounded hollow and ragged, like he’d been drinking acid every day for years.

  “You’re just one ugly son of a bitch. Don’t flash me, please.” Lance laughed and held up a hand. He didn’t know anyone funnier than him.

  The man grinned, his incisors prominent, his blackened teeth in need of more than a little cleaning. An acid wash perhaps.

  “Oh, I’ve no intention of drawing people’s eyes to me quite yet in a place like this. Not in this way. There is…a proper way to do things. People should know fear, but it must be orchestrated.”

  “You need to find some hot babes first before you show ‘em your shriveled-up dick?”

  “You’re an ignorant fool.” The leathery-faced man sneered. “I’d kill you, but it’s not yet time.” He looked Lance up and down. “And you’re not worthy of assimilation.”

  The bounty hunter scoffed. “Yeah, I’m so fucking scared of some fucking flasher bum from an alley.” He flipped the man off. “Enjoy starving to death, you piece of shit.” He continued up the street.

  “If there’s one thing I won’t do,” the man called after him, “it’s starve.”

  Lance glanced over his shoulder. The man had removed his sunglasses and was now staring at him with glowing red eyes.

  Fuck, so now we not only have to deal with homeless bums, we’ve got to deal with homeless bums from Oriceran?

  The bounty hunter grunted. This wasn’t fun anymore, and kicking some bum’s ass in public might get the police on him. He wasn’t going to risk his license for a few minutes of fun.

  If he ever saw that fucker in a dark alley, though, all bets were off.

  A half-block up, Lance found a bar and pushed inside. He sat on a stool and ordered a beer before pulling out his phone to scan for local bounties. Vacation was over, and it was time get back to work.

  Lance checked the new bounty alerts first.

  “Red Eyes Killer?” he murmured to himself. He clicked on the bounty and read the details. “Son of a bitch.” He leapt from the stool and sprinted for the door.

  “What about your beer?” the bartender called.

  “Fuck the beer. It’s probably watered-down anyway.”

  Lance threw open the door and ran down the street looking for the red-eyed man in the trench coat, but he was nowhere.

  “Where the fuck is he?” He hurried toward the nearest alley and peered down it. Still no Red Eyes Killer. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  The bounty hunter punched a wall. “Next time, I’ll just fucking beat any freak down and ask questions later.”

  Trey parked his F-350 near a bridge under a dry wash. “Wait in the truck.” He patted the glove box. “There’s a backup pistol in there in case anyone comes to bother you.”

  “Be careful, Trey.”

  He grinned. “You should be saying that to the other guy.”

  The bounty hunter stepped out of his truck and carefully closed the door. They’d stopped to talk to a few other street people, and they’d all pointed Trey and his aunt to this bridge. He fished out his flashlight. The few street lights in the distance weren’t enough to push away the shadows cloaking the area.

  Bruno was on the hunt tonight. That was what everyone had said, and he’d be hunting around the bridge. People had tried to get the word out so everyone could avoid the area.

  Trey snorted as he made his way toward the bridge. Bruno was the worst sort of man. Kicking the ass of someone who got in your face or came after you was one thing, but beating people down who were already on the bottom of the heap was the act of a coward. It proved nothing other than the man was a fucking piece of shit who needed to go down.

  Wind howled underneath the bridge, and Trey searched around for any movement in the deep shadows.

  “Well, well, well,” called a voice from underneath the bridge. A muscled, shaven-head man stepped out right into the path of Trey’s light. “I was starting to get a little bored. I thought you little homeless parasites had scurried off and I’d have to go find some street whore to rough up.”

  “You’re a real piece of work.”

  “I’m not a parasite like you, you piece of shit.”

  Trey scoffed and pointed his flashlight at his suit. “Does this look like the kind of thing a homeless man wears, motherfucker?”

  Bruno laughed. “Ah, sorry, pal. A lot of those fuckers are around here.” He shrugged. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” He grinned. “Hey, you want to join the hunt? It’s fun if you’ve never tried it. Nothing feels as good as some parasite’s nose cracking under your knuckles.”

  “You’re talking about beating the shit out of people?”

  “Yeah. It’s fun, and the little fuckers are too afraid of the police to report anything. It’s a victimless crime.” Bruno shrugged.

  Trey gritted his teeth, wondering about the kinds of assholes who’d preyed on his aunt through the last seven years. “Homeless people are still people, motherfucker.”

  Bruno shook his head. “Oh, some sort of fucking bleeding heart? Is that why you’re here? To give them a blanket and a hot meal?” He spat on the ground.

  “Nah, nothing like that.”

  “Then who are you?”

  Trey smirked. “I’m just your not-so-local level three bounty hunter, motherfucker. I’m Trey Garfield. I’m from Los Angeles, and I work for the Brownstone Agency.”

  The other man’s smile faltered. “Brownstone Agency, as in James Brownstone?”

  “Yeah, you piece of shit. The big man is my boss.” Trey fluffed his jacket. “But we don’t need Mr. Brownstone for a worthless piece of crap
like you.”

  Bruno stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “What, am I supposed to be afraid of you?”

  “I don’t give a shit if you’re afraid or not, but I’m not afraid of you.”

  Trey almost wanted to laugh at the insulted look that went across the bounty’s face.

  Bruno regained control and sneered. “If you’re here for me then you’ve seen my record. You know I’ve killed people.”

  The bounty hunter shrugged. “Yeah, and when I looked closer at it, what I found was you’re a coward who likes to pick on people a lot smaller and weaker than you, which means you ain’t used to fighting someone strong.” Trey gestured around him. “Which is why you’re here in the middle of the night looking to beat up some homeless old man. Bitch, please. I’m more afraid of my ex-girlfriend than your weak ass. Bring it, bitch. Show me what you’ve got.”

  Bruno yelled and charged Trey. The bounty hunter dodged to the side and slammed his elbow into the man’s head. His flashlight dropped to the ground.

  The criminal collapsed to his knees with a grunt.

  Trey clapped. “Yeah. It’s hard when it’s not some starving old man on the street now, isn’t it, bitch.”

  Bruno grunted and pushed himself up. Trey threw several quick punches into his head. The thud of flesh on flesh echoed underneath the bridge. The bounty fell back down.

  “Fuck, bitch, I wish you had hair to grab,” Trey hissed. He grabbed Bruno’s head with both hands and slammed his knee into the man’s face a few times until the criminal fell to the ground with a groan. He tried to grab Trey’s leg.

  The bounty hunter kicked the man in the stomach a few times until he rolled to his side, moaning.

  Trey rolled the moaning man onto his stomach and handcuffed him. “We at the Brownstone Agency try to keep it professional, which is why I’m not beating the shit out of you now that I’ve got you all cuffed, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy kicking the shit out of you before.” He patted the man on his head. “Like I said, bitch, you ain’t use to dealing with someone strong.” He rolled Bruno back over. “I hope you enjoy prison, Bruno.”