The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  The hallway led to the master bedroom. Small gold, silver, and bone figurines of animals covered a king-sized bed.

  Schwartz ran to the corner of the room and turned around.

  James stopped in the doorway. Maybe there were more traps.

  “Got nowhere to run now, asshole.”

  “You’re not going to win, Brownstone. Even if I die, I’ll be famous as long as I take you with me.”

  “Is that what you want? To be famous? I thought you wanted to survive.”

  Schwartz tilted his head, his eyes unfocused. “Killing you will make the world a better place. You’re too dangerous to live.”

  James snorted. “You know what? Fuck this. Why am I even bothering?”

  “Fuck this?”

  “Yeah. Fuck this.” James patted the backpack. “I’ve got what I came here for, and I’ve busted you up. Stay the fuck away from the Professor unless you want me to finish you off, asshole.” He turned on his heel and headed down the hallway.

  “Don’t turn your back on me when I’m talking to you, Brownstone,” Schwartz shrieked.

  James held up his middle finger as a response. “Fuck you.”

  “Die,” Schwartz shrieked.

  A gold, silver, and bone figurine blinked into existence a few feet in front of James.

  “What the fuck?”

  The gold one exploded first, knocking James back. The silver figurine then blasted out a sphere of blue-white energy. The bone figurine vanished and released a wave of orange energy that hit the bounty hunter before he’d even landed.

  Agony shot through James, and more explosions shook the house. The amulet shouted in his mind, a mixture of excitement and fear. It was enjoying him being blown up three different ways.

  Wood, metal, and plastic fragments coated James. Another series of explosions launched him into the air. The pain clouded his mind, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

  The amulet grew silent, intrigued but frightened. Learning. That’s what it was doing. Learning quickly about so many new forms of magic.

  A massive blast wave slammed into the bounty hunter. He tumbled through the air, his skin sizzling and every nerve on fire. James slammed into the ground in agony. He forced his trembling hand into his pocket and grabbed his last healing potion.

  Darkness ate at the edge of his vision, but he unstopped the bottle and downed the liquid.

  The darkness overtook him and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

  12

  “Been a nice few days,” Trey announced from the middle of the living room. The rest of the boys were sitting on couches or chairs in the loft’s living room. “We’ve had some good catches. Made some nice money. I wasn’t sure about this new flexible schedule compared to what we were using before, but y’all have made me a believer, and I’m sure the big man will be.”

  Shorty laughed. “I don’t give a shit about kicking ass either here or LA. I just like kicking ass and making money.”

  “We are badass,” Deshawn declared.

  “We are Brownstone badass,” Travis added.

  Manuel and the others nodded their agreement.

  Trey grinned. “Damned right. We’ve got one more job tonight, then we’ll head back. Should be easy.” He stared at Shorty. “It’s gonna be a chick. We shouldn’t have to get rough, though. She’s level two. She’s a con artist. Only thinks she’s so high because she conned some rich assholes. You gonna be okay with that?”

  Shorty shrugged. “I’m fine, Trey. I shot at that witch earlier. Let’s just bag this bitch, get our money, and head back.”

  Trey nodded. “You done good, boys. You done good.”

  Upping their game to multiple twos and threes in rapid succession had helped the money flow in, and the fact the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department was shoving bounties at them only helped. Even with splitting the bounty, giving James his cut, and paying for expenses, the Las Vegas trip had been damned profitable. Way more profitable than their best days on the street as gang members.

  This shit’s nice. Really nice.

  Trey shook his head and headed toward the kitchen. He had time to grab a little snack before they went after their last bounty. It wouldn’t be their first woman, and the last few had surrendered without much of a fight.

  Would Victoria surrender without a fight if we had a bounty on her?

  Trey stopped and frowned.

  I’m fucking chewing Shorty out for getting distracted by some hot ass, but now I’m thinking about some witch who was this close to blowing me across an alley?

  Trey snorted. It used to be he worried about Demon Generals killing his boys or attacking his family. Now he was worried about beautiful witches who hadn’t even tried to kill him.

  Yeah, this ain’t a bad life. Talk about your first-world problems.

  He continued toward the kitchen. Maybe he’d get lucky and run into Victoria again.

  Darkness surrounded James. Without either the Devil or Jesus in sight, he was probably not dead yet. At least he hoped not.

  I’m just dreaming. Have to be.

  A woman’s voice intruded in his thoughts.

  “You’re a dumbass, Brownstone. A tough dumbass, but still a dumbass. You have the Devil’s own luck.”

  Yeah. Probably.

  It wasn’t Shay’s voice. It was Lieutenant Hall’s.

  What the fuck? Why am I dreaming about another woman? If Shay finds out, she’ll gut me.

  “Wake the fuck up, Brownstone,” Lieutenant Hall demanded. “You’re breathing and you don’t seem to be hurt, even if your clothes are torn up. Magical shit, I’m assuming.”

  James’ eyes snapped open to find an armored but helmet-free Lieutenant Hall staring down at him, a huge frown on her face.

  “Do I need to find your girlfriend, Brownstone?”

  He shook his head and sat up. “No. I don’t need my ass kicked again.” Despite his shredded and burned clothes, he was in no pain. The potion had done its job. There was enough of his shirt left to conceal his amulet, and the blood, dust, and general grime of the battle helped hide the lines radiating from the amulet to the rest of his chest.

  Should have brought an energy potion. Fucking exhausted.

  James stood and took in his surroundings. AET and regular officers covered the area, most surrounding the charred crater where Schwartz’s house had been. Men in radiation suits stood in the crater, waving Geiger counters and other instruments around.

  Lieutenant Hall pointed toward the crater. “That’s new. Start talking. The only reason I’m not completely pissed off is that you didn’t do this shit anywhere near town.”

  James reached to his back. The backpack was still there. He unzipped and pulled out the golden plaque. He let out a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t have any fucking idea what that is,” Lieutenant Hall snapped. “Or what it has to do with the large crater over there.”

  “Something for a friend.” James put the plaque back into the backpack. “I was asked to pick it up. An asshole had taken it from him, and I thought it’d be a simple show-up-and-growl-type job. Things got…complicated.”

  “Complicated?”

  James shrugged. “This asshole was a paranoid, crazy motherfucker who decided he’d rather blow me the fuck up, even after I got what I wanted and said I was leaving. He had a buttload of artifacts, too.”

  Lieutenant Hall let out a long sigh. “I want to believe you, Brownstone. I really do. But I’m not sure how. Right now all I have is you, a crater, and a lot of unusual magical activity. Considering how much blood you’re covered with without any wounds, you were either using healing magic, or you cut someone up, and they never had a chance. I don’t know if I can just let you walk.”

  James frowned. “My phone. Give me my phone, and I can prove it.”

  “Weber,” Lieutenant Hall shouted. “You got Brownstone’s phone from his truck, right?”

  “Yeah,” the sergeant called from a few yards away. He was holdin
g a plastic bag with James’ phone. He hurried over to hand the bag to James.

  “You broke into my truck?” James asked, trying to keep the growl out of his voice.

  Even the cops can’t fucking touch my truck.

  “Don’t worry, we didn’t break anything.” Lieutenant Hall shrugged. “We thought you were dead until Weber saw you were breathing. We were collecting evidence. So you have your phone. What’s that have to do with proof?”

  “One sec.” James dialed Heather.

  “I thought you were dead there until you woke up just now,” the hacker answered.

  “You’re watching me?”

  “Got a couple of drones high up.”

  “Got any internal camera shit from the house? Video that I can show the cops?”

  “I do. After the jammer was destroyed I started trying to access the house via the hardlines, and I found out I could access the electrical control itself. Turned everything back on and started watching. You’re one tough of sonofabitch, Brownstone.”

  James grunted. “I need the video.”

  “Sending it now.”

  He held up the phone, which displayed a feed from an internal house camera, complete with audio of Schwartz’s final rants. He’d grabbed and twisted the ring to initiate his final self-destruction plan.

  Lieutenant Hall blew out a breath. “Okay, that should be enough, but you still need to come downtown to fill out some reports and statements. Otherwise, you’re not walking.”

  James grunted. “Can I at least change? I’ve got some other clothes in my truck.”

  “Fine by me. Just follow me to the station after you get changed.”

  James sat in a too-small chair in the office waiting for Lieutenant Hall to return. They’d taken his statement and hadn’t tried to seize the plaque.

  The Professor had been more than willing to provide a statement indicating that he had hired James to recover the artifact and was ready to provide any necessary provenance documents. The bounty hunter had no idea if they were fake, but it had been enough, combined with the video and his statement, to induce the cops to not care.

  The door swung open, and an unarmored Lieutenant Hall headed over to her desk and sat. “You’re a lucky sonofabitch.”

  “What now?”

  “Gregory Schwartz, your ranting thief nutjob? Turns out a level-four bounty was issued on him just a few hours ago.”

  “By who?”

  “The Paris Police Prefecture. I’m working something so you can get credit for the bounty. Fortunately for you, it was dead-or-alive.” Maria tapped the keyboard, and a mugshot of Schwartz appeared. “They say that guy was level four, but given the crater I saw, he should have been a level six. Even you are lucky to be alive, Brownstone.”

  “I didn’t want a fight. That asshole did. I just wanted something he stole.”

  Lieutenant Hall chuckled and finished typing. “Yeah, I feel you, Brownstone. I can’t remember the last time someone surrendered to AET. Maybe we should start a pool.” She nodded toward the door. “You’re free to go.”

  James nodded. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

  She returned to her typing with a nod. “Sure thing, Brownstone. Try not to get blown up next time.”

  He grunted. “Okay.”

  James opened her door and headed down the hallway. Sergeant Mack waited against a wall, his arms crossed.

  “Everything okay, Brownstone?” the cop asked.

  “Yeah. I’m free and clear, and I’m even getting a bounty payment out of it.”

  Mack whistled. “Nice. We can buy an extra-nice pit now.”

  “Almost getting blown up has to be useful for something.”

  13

  Shorty and Manuel sat in the Expedition watching people come and go from the front of the bar. Their target, Jenna Holmes, had been spotted in the place just a half-hour ago according to Trey’s internet informants. The rest of the team had already spread out to cover the exits.

  “I hope this shit’s gonna be easy.” Shorty leaned his head against the back of the driver’s seat. “Haven’t heard shit about her having muscle. I’m guessing she’ll surrender without too much shit.”

  He hoped she would, anyway. It’d already been a long day, and he wasn’t all that interested in chasing someone through Vegas’s back alleys.

  Don’t be a bitch, Jenna. Be cool. I’m hungry.

  Manuel stared out the window. “You know what our problem is?”

  Shorty glanced his way. “What?”

  “We’re too damned good. It almost makes it boring.”

  Both men chuckled.

  “Don’t know.” Shorty frowned. “You never know what’s gonna happen, you know what I’m saying? Might be an easy catch. I think she’ll be an easy catch, but she also might be a witch or have a guy we don’t know about.”

  “A witch? If she was a witch she’d be at least a four.” Manuel shrugged. “Just because one witch slipped into a bounty don’t mean every low-level bounty is gonna have some magical surprise.”

  “Just saying, we ain’t getting paid because this shit is safe.”

  “Since when we ever live a safe life? When we was running on the streets, we had to deal with both the po-po and other gangs.”

  Shorty grinned. “Now we’re in the toughest fucking gang of all.”

  Manuel opened his mouth to reply, but shut it and nodded toward the passenger-side window. “I think that’s her.”

  A woman in a low-cut red dress strode out of the bar in matching knee-high boots, a huge orange purse over her shoulder.

  Shorty whistled. “She don’t like to blend in. Shit. Why do the hot ones always got to be trouble?”

  Manuel laughed. “More fun that way, brother. Ready?”

  “Yeah, ready. Let’s do this shit before my stomach gnaws its way out of my body.”

  The bounty hunters threw open the SUV doors, stepped out, and advanced on the bounty. The heels of her boots clacked against the stairs leading to the bar as she made her way to the street.

  Jenna stopped and gave them both a coy smile after looking them up and down. “Do you gentlemen need something? I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you around before, and I think I’d remember two handsome men in suits like you.”

  Shorty grinned. “Yeah, sweet thing. We need something. You.”

  “Ooh, aren’t you the direct one?” The woman eyed them. “You’re not normally my type, but I can be persuaded. Tonight’s been so boring. What do you do for a living? Businessmen?”

  Shorty resisted a laugh. It was the first time in his entire life anyone had ever mistaken him for a businessman, or even anything remotely respectable.

  Shit, Trey. You win. The suits do make us look good.

  Manuel and Shorty exchanged glances, and the latter spoke. “We’re bounty hunters with the Brownstone Agency. Jenna Holmes, we’re taking you to the police. We don’t want trouble, so if you could come along nice and quiet-like it’d save us all a headache and some scratches, you know what I’m saying?”

  Shorty expected her to run or pull a gun from her purse, maybe even try to claw his eyes out. What he didn’t expect was for her to fall to her knees and sob, her face in her hands.

  Shit. I hate crying chicks.

  He blinked a few times and looked at Manuel. The other man shrugged, confusion on his face.

  Jenna continued sobbing for several minutes before regaining control and wiping her tears away. “Please, you can’t do this. It’s not even my fault. My asshole ex-boyfriend framed me. You’re here about the level-two bounty, right? The one connected to where I was allegedly transporting a bunch of dust?”

  “I don’t know shit about what you did. All I was told was that you are a level two.”

  She shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s all crap. You should go after Zander Wainright, my ex. I’m sure if you look him up, he’ll have a bounty. I didn’t have anything to do with his crimes. This is bullshit, and it’s unfair.”

  “T
hat might be true, but if we take you to the police, they can figure it out.” Shorty shrugged. “Not our job to convict you. Just our job to bring you in, sweet thing.”

  Manuel nodded his agreement.

  Jenna stood, her knees wobbly. “Yeah, they’ll figure it out while I’m stuck in jail waiting for some cartel assholes who think I stole millions of dollars of dust.” She clasped her hands together and pled with her watery eyes. “Please! If I get arrested I’m dead, and it’s not fair. Look Zander Wainright up. He’s got a bounty. He’s an actual scumbag. I broke up with him right away once I realized what he was into.”

  Shorty rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know.”

  Manuel pulled out his phone and brought up the bounty-hunting app. He tapped away.

  “There’s a Zander Wainright in here. He’s got a level two on him. Multiple assaults, attempted murder. Drug trafficking. Fucker’s nasty. Real thug.”

  Jenna nodded quickly. “See? Come on, I’m begging you here, guys. It’s not like bringing in some level-two bounty is going to set you up for life, and if you need the money, Zander’s a better choice. He’s a real criminal. My only crime was dating a scumbag.”

  Shorty sighed and looked at Manuel.

  The other bounty hunter shrugged. “We can just say we didn’t see her. Not like some internet informant’s always gonna be right.”

  Jenna’s eyes widened, and she placed her palms together. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She blew out a breath. “This has been very stressful. I think I need another drink.” The woman spun on her heel and all but sprinted into the bar.

  “Wait,” Shorty shouted, his arm outstretched, but Jenna ignored him. “Shit. Guess she’s right. One level two ain’t gonna make a big difference anyway.” He nodded back toward the Expedition. “Might as well wait in there.”

  The two men made it back to the car and sat in silence, both staring out the window. They were unsure of if Trey would believe them.

  Shorty gritted his teeth a few minutes later when their leader turned the corner, pushing a handcuffed Jenna Holmes.

  “Fuck my life,” he muttered.