The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  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 shut 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 genero
us. 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.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  “Hear me out, Brownstone. You’re a bounty hunter. You take down bounties. I’m not suggesting you do anything different than you normally do. The only difference is that it’d be easier because you’ll know where and when. I don’t want Drow fucks or demon witches busting up LA any more than you do. It’s just I want a slice of the action. Not too much to ask, you know?”

  James’ expression softened, and he scratched his eyelid. “If I do this, I’m getting a cut from the video profits, too.”

  “Sure, sure. The fighter always gets paid. I’ve got no problem with that.”

  James uncrossed his arms and settled into the chair. Even he had to admit that Tyler had a point. If he were going to be taking down bounties anyway, there was no reason not to earn a little extra money off it. The orphanage could always use more funding.

  The bounty hunter frowned. “You sure you’ll even be able to get anyone? It’s not like everyone is gonna show up and ask you for information.”

  “Sure, not everyone, but this place has a reputation as neutral ground now so I get a lot of people showing up who might not otherwise. It’s a simple matter of recognizing them and whispering the right thing.”

  “But won’t they catch on?”

  “To what? Brownstone kicking their asses? You’ve got a reputation for that already.” Tyler furrowed his brow. “We can’t always use the same location, though. Then they would catch on.”

  “Sure, but I’d like the first fight…bounty to be in the Salton Sea area. It’s annoying and dry there, but it’s also safe as fuck. Hell, even the AET will be happy because I’m not busting shit up.”

  Tyler chuckled. “Yeah, Maria’s a fan now with you allegedly saving the world and all.”

  “I wasn’t saving the world. I was saving my ass.”

  “Whatever. I think we’ve got a good plan. The Salton Sea, just need a four or higher. I’ll get some cameras so simple even you can set them up. The only problem with the Salton Sea is that if you’re that far out we won’t be able to get AET to you quick enough for video, so you’ll have to set everything up for filming. You can at least get a drone flying, right?”

  James grunted. “I’m not a fucking moron, Tyler.”

  “Sorry. Was just asking.” Tyler grinned. “Nah, this is going be great, Brownstone. We’ll make a shitload of money off this.”

  James nodded. If this were nothing more his normal bounty hunting with a little help from Tyler, what could possibly go wrong?

  9

  Trey and Shorty stepped into the narrow alley behind the club. Their latest bounty wasn’t conveniently staying in a hotel or apartment. With dozens if not hundreds of people inside the nightclub, the bounty hunters couldn’t charge in and risk bullets flying. Not only would innocent people get hurt, but the big man would kick their asses all the way to Mars for taking that kind of risk.

  Trey’s phone buzzed with a text from Deshawn.

  Yo, we got the front covered. Bitch ain’t come out yet.

  Carl followed up with a text a few seconds later.

  Manuel thought he saw him coming out the side door, but it ain’t him.

  “Fuck,” Trey muttered. “We need something better than just phones. It’s like we’re a bunch of teen girls going after a bounty.”

  Shorty eyed him. “What do you want, then?”

  “We need to go all Secret Service- or Special Forces-style, you know what I’m saying? If we’re doing this shit in teams, we need to be able to talk when shit goes down.”

  Shorty shrugged. “Talk to the big man, then. Shit, you want us in these suits and all that, might as well go all the way. Motherfuckers in suits with weird earpieces are a lot scarier than what we looked like before.”

  Trey laughed. “You never said that before.”

  “Didn’t think about it before. We look like we’re from the government and shit. What’s freakier than that?”

  Trey tugged on his suit jacket. “We’re from the Brownstone Agency and we’re here to help,” he intoned in a low voice.

  The back door swung open, and both men’s hands slipped inside their jackets and inched toward their guns.

  Two red-faced women in mini-dresses stumbled out, laughing and the bounty hunters lowered their hands. The woman giggled to each other, not even glancing Trey and Shorty’s way as they headed toward the street.

  Shorty whistled. “Maybe we should get their digits.”

  Trey snorted. “Bitch, we’re on a job. Pay attention.”

  “Just saying they had nice asses.”

  “And I’m just saying that if you let tits distract you, you’re gonna end up getting a bullet in your fucking head. Do you think Mr. Brownstone lets himself get distracted by that kind of shit?”

  Shorty shrugged and returned his attention to the back door.

  Does make me think. Fucking women is one thing, but maybe I should be looking for something permanent. Now that I got a stable career and shit.

  The back door flew open again, and a lanky bald man in a green leisure suit strolled out. It was their target, Jacob Johns.

  “Got you, you son of a bitch,” Trey murmured. “Get ready to move, Shorty.”

  A pale short-haired woman in a suit emerged right after. Despite her beautiful face, bright red lipstick, and striking red hair, Trey was more impressed with her suit. A layered combination of femininity and danger oozed from the woman.

  Suit Chick’s ankle-high boots clacked against the asphalt as she walked into the alley. She stopped, turning her head toward Trey and Shorty.

  “Shit, that’s Armani.” Trey sighed. “That’s way nicer than my suit. That just ain’t fair.”

  Johns stopped and looked their way, scowling. “Who the fuck are you, the IRS?”

  “Brownstone Agency,” Shorty announced. “Jacob Johns, we’re here to collect on your level-three bounty. Turn around and be a nice boy and we won’t have to get rough.”

  Johns snorted. “You’re not Brownstone. Why the fuck should I care?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Victoria, take care of them.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  Trey glared at him. Talk about a cocky son of a bitch.

  The woman stepped in front of the bounty, and her hand drifted inside her suit jacket.

  Trey and Shorty both yanked out their guns.

  “We got no problem with you,” Trey offered. “So don’t try nothing.”

  Victoria’s hand stopped moving but remained inside her jacket. “You really work for James Brownstone?”

  Shorty nodded. “Just walk away. I’m not down with hurting women.”

  “That’s pretty nice of you, but if you’re going be a bounty hunter, sometimes you’ll run into dangerous women.” She grinned. “Like me.”

  “Turn around,” Trey ordered. “Put your hands behind you. We’re gonna cuff you, and then we’re gonna take your boss in. I don’t know who you are, but if you ain’t got a bounty, you ain’t our business.”

  Johns snorted and continued to lounge against the wall. “Fucking morons.”

  Victoria shook her head. “Just to be clear, he’s not my boss. More like a client.”

  “So, what, you his bodyguard?”

  “Yes. For now.”

  Trey kept his gun trained on the woman, tension spreading through his body, and his heart r
ate kicking up. Every street instinct in him screamed that Victoria was way more dangerous than the level-three bounty resting against the wall without the faintest hint of giving a shit.

  He nodded at Johns. “This guy’s a serious fucker, you know. He and his boys were raiding medical supply trucks. Who the fuck does that?”

  Johns snorted. “Hey, I sold that shit. People got what they needed eventually.”

  “Tell that to the kids who died, you son of a bitch.”

  Victoria’s hand remained inside her jacket.

  Johns pushed off the wall. “Spare me, you bounty-hunter piece of shit. You’re no cop. You’re just some trash from the street who thinks if he puts on a suit and calls himself a bounty hunter that he’s better than me. You’re not better than me. I’m a businessman. You’re just a parasite.”

  “Shut your mouth, bitch,” Shorty yelled.

  “Keep it cool, Shorty,” Trey ordered. They couldn’t let Johns mess with them, especially when Victoria was ready to deliver a beat-down. A few seconds of distraction could be the difference between life and death.

  The woman had a good face and a slender build judging by her suit, so she wasn’t going to deliver a Brownstone-style beat-down. But it didn’t take a lot of strength to pull a trigger.

  Trey’s phone buzzed with a text, but he ignored it. His earlier instincts had been right. They needed to invest in better communications gear. If all six of the boys were gathered in the alley, Johns and Victoria would have already surrendered.

  Sun Tzu came to mind. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.

  Easy for you to say, bitch. You’ve been dead for twenty-five-hundred years.

  Johns pointed at Trey. “Kill that fucker. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”

  Victoria shook her head. “Not a hitman, Mr. Johns. I’m a bodyguard.”

  Shorty advanced toward Johns. “You don’t have your gun out, woman. You can’t win. Just turn around. You don’t have to go down for a piece of shit like Johns.”

  She offered Shorty a thin smile. “What if I told you I don’t even have a gun?”

  He snorted. “You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”