“I have to. It’s all part of the subtle atmosphere choices that help encourage people to spend more money.”
Maria smiled behind her glass. “Everything’s just an angle to you, isn’t it? This bar, helping out the cops, having connections with Dannec?”
“Yeah, everything’s an angle. The only person a man can ever truly trust is himself.”
“I’m just asking if you can’t just sit back and enjoy the music?”
Tyler laughed. “I enjoy music, but I can also think about how it can make more money for me.”
Maria set her glass down. “What kind of music do you like when it’s not about money?”
“I don’t know. Classic rock, I guess, especially stuff from the early 2000s and 2010s. I like a little bit of everything though.” He grimaced. “Not everything. Some of the Oriceran stuff I’ve heard, I guess I need magic or bigger ears or something to appreciate.”
Maria laughed. “Don’t have to like everything.”
“What about you?”
She winced, regretting ever getting suckered into a discussion of music.
“I…fuck.”
Tyler crossed his arms, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Come on. It can’t be that bad.”
“You have to understand. I was an Army brat, and my dad spent a lot of time stationed over in South Korea. I spent my years from eleven to thirteen and fifteen to seventeen there. And you know what they say, your tastes imprint musically when you’re a teen.”
He shrugged. “And?”
Maria averted her eyes and looked down as her cheeks warmed. “I guess you can say I’m into K-Pop. Always have been since then.”
That got Tyler’s attention. “I would not have pegged you as the type. Thought you were more a rock chick, or heavy metal. Maybe even country.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone, or I’ll blast your dick off with a railgun.”
Tyler barked a laugh. “All the secrets I know about you, and you’re most worried about people finding out your music tastes aren’t hardcore?”
“Yeah. Funny how that works.”
6
A sultry voice came from the speakers of the F-350. “It’s important to realize that men and women are different. This doesn’t have to be a source of friction. Instead, recognizing and celebrating these differences can be a wonderful way for any couple to strengthen their relationship.”
Usually, when James hit the highway he only listened to barbeque podcasts. However, he couldn’t ignore that he needed to improve his dating skills as his relationship with Shay progressed. Shay had the experience of previous relationships to go on, but he was at a disadvantage since she was his first.
For everything.
This shit is too hard. Kicking that necromancer’s ass was easy in comparison.
James wanted their next date to be special, but he was having trouble figuring out how to accomplish that. He loved Shay, but that didn’t mean he understood her. If he did, he might be better able to predict how she would think and react.
Sometimes she could be blunter and less emotional than him, but other times the smallest thing pissed her off and she’d insult him. At least she didn’t cry when she was happy, like Alison.
Why do women have to be so complicated?
“Ignore the reasons why men and women are different,” the voice continued. “It doesn’t really matter when you think about it. Whether it’s society, biology, magic, or something else, the only thing that you can do as an individual is accept those differences to improve your relationships.”
James grunted. Maybe women weren’t so complicated. Maybe they just seemed that way because he wasn’t one. That wasn’t changing anytime soon so this relationship podcast might help.
Was Shay sitting around thinking about how difficult he was to understand? He didn’t think he was. He’d spent his entire life focused on keeping shit simple. That simplicity had died with the Harriken, but it had to make him easy to understand.
Fuck. I have one warehouse. Shay has five. That says everything.
“In acknowledging the differences, also acknowledge your shared traits. The typical ways of distinguishing men and women lack accuracy. For example, claiming that men are logical and women are emotional ignores many scenarios such as every single man who ever got into an unnecessary fight because someone challenged him.
“Many men are prideful and react emotionally to any challenge to their pride. They should be mindful of that when evaluating their own behavior, and women should be mindful of how to engage men while remaining mindful of such emotionally-linked issues as pride.”
Don’t think I’ve ever beat someone down just because of pride. Does beating them down to scare the shit out of everyone else count as emotional or logical? Fucking Harriken didn’t get the message. I didn’t want to have to keep coming after them.
Shay’s more obsessed with being the best at her job than I am.
But we both want to kick ass, like during our last big date. Shay just didn’t want to ruin her outfit. Guess I’m different because I don’t care if I get a guy’s blood on my shirt.
James scratched his chin. That wasn’t fair to Shay. She’d made it very clear that she didn’t mind a little blood splatter, and even had used that fact to contrast herself with assassins whom she considered “pussies afraid to get blood on them.” Upon reflection, he decided the big difference was he never cared about his clothes, but sometimes she did.
Some major Mars and Venus shit right there.
They both had favorite handguns. He preferred a .45, and Shay a 9mm, but it wasn’t like her gun was pink or some shit like that.
“Since both genders are emotional, focus on the emotional cues and how to best respond to them. One common problem for men is they misinterpret complaints from women. If a woman is complaining about her day, a man will commonly interpret this as her asking for him to fix it. She’s just venting. Not every complaint is a request for a white knight.”
Shay’s got the opposite problem. We should have taken down that cartel a long time ago. Does it count as being a white knight if you take on a cartel army with your woman? I think she killed as many guys as I did during that.
James frowned.
Shit. Maybe I should have counted. Is it bad for our relationship if I kill more of her enemies than she does? Am I supporting her when I do that, or undermining her?
He grunted. She’d tell him if he was stealing her glory. At least he hoped she would.
“Another difference is direct instruction versus indirect instruction. This can confuse some men, as it is, in practical terms, the opposite behavior displayed during venting. In this situation, a woman may present something as a question or an observation, but in truth, she’s making a direct request. She’s trusting in her partner’s ability to perceive her emotional keys and act on her implied preferences. Success in this can be helpful in strengthening the relationship.”
Shay was straightforward with asking for a non-fancy place. But maybe she was testing me? Doesn’t seem like she would. I did have to talk her into going after the cartel, so maybe that was indirect. She might be hiding some shit from me, but it’s nothing big. She told me I was an alien, so what else is there to hide?
James grunted, thinking back on how they’d first interacted. He recalled Shay’s insistence that he was gay. Was that some sort of indirect ploy, or had she honestly believed it? It was like she was ten steps ahead of him in the relationship, and he was always playing catch up.
I don’t get all this shit. It sounds like I’m supposed to do the opposite of what I think Shay wants, but that doesn’t make any fucking sense.
“Depending on background and environment, you and your partner might have different hobbies. These present good opportunities to strengthen your relationship, even if you enjoy different aspects of those hobbies. Merely sharing the activities will be enjoyable and prove your emotional investment in each other.”
Does picking out
international criminal groups to destroy together count as a hobby? I mean, I took down the Harriken because they were fucking with me, and with Shay it was the same thing for the Nuevo Gulf Cartel. I think we both enjoyed at least some of it. The explosives drones were damned fun.
James didn’t get enough chances to use explosives other than grenades.
I like a good fight and Shay likes taking down assholes, but it’s not like there’s always going to be a group of assassins after me that we can kill together.
James thought that over for a moment. If he waited long enough, some newer assholes would show up to try and kill him. As long as Shay was in town when that happened, they could share the fun of taking them down together.
Saturday bonding over bullets and hitmen.
He worked through other possibilities. Shay had made it clear that she’d never be into barbeque as much as James was, so that didn’t seem like a strong possibility, but maybe a few “couple’s tomb raids” could be fun. She could do all the historical research, but they could share any necessary ass-kicking.
Even though Shay liked to keep a lot of details about her raids from him, he knew she was getting banged up more than she was admitting to. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect her skill, but he was the alien with the enhancement amulet.
Damn, though. That would involve a lot of flying. Fuck. Maybe she can find a few tomb raids in LA and Las Vegas?
The minutes flowed together as James’ truck sped down the highway and the podcast continued offering relationship advice.
“Depending on your relationship, you might find that more or less time together can help you, but be aware that’s highly situational.”
What does that fucking mean? Anything? That’s really fucking helpful, thanks.
James frowned. Shay had been all over him the last few days, but sometimes she didn’t seem to care about seeing him for weeks. While some of that was inevitable given her profession, there’d been more than a few times he felt like she was actively avoiding him. He didn’t know if that meant she was pissed at him during those times.
Why not just tell me if there’s a problem?
Maybe the couple’s tomb raids wouldn’t work.
“Consider also joint activities with other couples and taking up new hobbies together as a couple that are independent of either of your existing hobbies. New bonds you forge as a couple provide unique support to your relationship.”
James grunted. He didn’t know a lot of married people he could hang out with, and he doubted Shay would feel all that comfortable going out to dinner with a cop and his wife. Taking up some new hobby was a possibility. It wasn’t like either of them worked a nine-to-five job.
Fuck. Just need to figure out what. Maybe we could learn to dance together, or competitive shooting. We do it for our jobs, but not for fun. Take up MMA together? Even if that’s not what they mean by mixed martial arts.
James ran through the scenarios and kept stopping on the fact that Shay was supposed to be keeping a low profile. She’d been “killed” twice, and even though they’d destroyed the Nuevo Gulf Cartel, that didn’t mean it was safe for her to wander around attracting attention at ballroom dancing events or high-powered rifle competitions. Anything they did together would have to be low-key.
The bounty hunter changed lanes. His exit was coming up.
James shut off the podcast. Nothing the woman had said helped with his immediate relationship problem—figuring out where to take Shay that would be special for their date.
Men and women were different, and Shay was harder than many to understand at times. But she’d chosen him, alien parentage and all. That had to mean something, and he didn’t want to spend too much time second-guessing it.
“Fuck it,” James muttered. “I’m going with my gut. She fell in love with me, not some ballroom-dancing rifle champion. I’ve got to be me. Can’t be anyone else.”
Detectives West and Lafayette filed into their captain’s office and took a seat in front of his desk.
Their superior crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I’m still buried in a lot of paperwork over this Red Eyes bullshit, but you said it was important, so I made time. What did you need, guys?”
West nodded to his partner and then looked at his captain. “We were discussing our manpower issues and how things went down with the Red-Eyes Killer, and how Brownstone helped.”
“Yeah, a lot of bounty hunters are pieces of shit, but that guy’s all right.” The captain uncrossed his arms and shrugged.
“We need more of that kind of thing,” West explained, “and I think the Brownstone Agency could help with other cases, normal cases. Lafayette and I think the department should hire them.”
The captain frowned and shook his head. “Brownstone’s a good guy, but he’s still a bounty hunter, and the Red-Eyes Killer had a big bounty attached.”
West shook his head. “It wasn’t a dead-or-alive and Brownstone still took the asshole out. He lost out on most of the bounty to protect the people of Las Vegas. He even told us ahead of time that he was in it to stop the killer rather than because of the money.”
“I see.” The captain shrugged. “But that doesn’t change the fact the department doesn’t have the budget to hire someone like that as an outside contractor to help sweep up our small fry, and it’s not like he’s going leave LA to grab a bunch of level ones and twos for us in Vegas.”
“You’re not understanding, sir,” Lafayette chimed in. “We’re not talking about hiring Brownstone, but his agency. From what we understand, he’s got guys working under him. Regular bounty hunters who go after regular guys. I figure we sweeten the pot with some sort of retainer and get some of these guys to help us in addition to the existing bounties.”
The captain nodded slowly. “It wouldn’t hurt to try. Even if we can’t get Brownstone, just having his name attached will help. He’s proven again and again he has cops’ backs. All right. Fine. I’ll put in some paperwork, and you reach out to the Brownstone Agency about it. See what we can get going.”
The detectives exchanged nods.
Fuck the mob. They were bringing in the Brownstone Agency.
7
Lachlan’s legs ached, and his lungs burned as he doggedly put one foot in front of another on the hard-packed beach sand. Every motherfucker in the entire gang was ahead of him, with Staff Sergeant Royce leading the pack, yelling another of his damned marching chants, and every bitch calling after him.
“Everywhere we go,
“People wanna know,
“Who we are,
“And where the hell we come from,
“So we tell them,
“We ain’t the Marines…”
Everyone laughed and shouted, “Except for motherfucking Staff Sergeant Royce!”
The drill instructor snickered before continuing the chant.
“They don’t even look mean,
“We work for Brownstone,
“Harriken-killing Brownstone.”
Lachlan didn’t join the chant. It pissed him off, but that wasn’t the main reason. It was more his difficulty breathing that made him opt out.
I don’t need this shit. I can prove I’m tougher than any of these bitches, but I’m not gonna fall down here. They’ll think I’m a pussy just because I can’t shout and run at the same time.
His heart thundered. His stomach continued to churn, and a full-out rebellion was brewing. The peasants in his stomach finally got sick of the aristocrats in his brain calling the shots, and he fell to his knees, puking up his lunch.
The other trainees glanced over their shoulders to find the source of the loud retching. Most of them continued, but four men slowed and headed over to him.
Damn it. Here come the bitches. I’ll kick their fucking asses as soon as I’m done…
Lachlan threw up again.
Shorty was the first to arrive. “Come on, future King of Los Angeles. You can’t be puking up your guts on the beach. I’m sure tha
t shit is illegal. Po-po are gonna come over here and fine your ass.” He laughed.
Lachlan flipped him off. “Fuck off.”
Max, a tall, lanky bastard, was the next to arrive. “Just breathe, man. It’ll pass.”
Even back in their pure gangbanging days Max had always been an easy-going guy, and he was smart. Trey had even planned to send him to college to study accounting so he could better take care of gang finances. Trey had planned to expand their influence, but then he’d decided he wanted to be a clone of fucking Brownstone.
Yeah, Brownstone’s a badass, I’ll give him that, and he even lived in our neighborhood. But working for him isn’t gonna make us stronger. You can’t be a strong king by working for another king.
Lachlan struggled to his feet, then hunched, vomiting again.
I’m never fucking eating again.
Kevin and Russell, the last two to break from the pack and arrive, exchanged glances. The two were solid muscle and not breathing hard at all. That only irritated Lachlan more.
In fact, none of the people who stopped were breathing hard. They had all run miles, and other than the sweat on their faces no one would be able to tell.
Lachlan forced himself to stand up straight. “Come on. None of you fuckers are winded at all?”
Russell shrugged. “It’s called conditioning, bitch. You think it wasn’t hard the first few days for the rest of us? Most of the boys were puking a lot more than you, but Staff Sergeant has been pushing our asses. It’s just exercise. If you do it, you get stronger. Easiest fucking bang for your buck you’ll ever see.”
Shorty grinned. “I was running before I even joined up with you bitches. I haven’t puked from running in a long time.”
“Staff Sergeant says I have a natural frame for running,” Max explained with a shrug.
Kevin pointed to the group disappearing in the distance. “Just start jogging, Lachlan. You’ve got to man the fuck up and do this shit. If you can’t handle a little run, how you ever gonna run down bounties?”
The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus Page 5