The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  “Being a chick?”

  “Yeah, you know—soft.”

  Kathy snorted and spun on her heel. “Whatever. Your place. I just work here.”

  Tyler followed her down the hallway to the main room. She led him straight to Lars Hansen. With a slight bow, she mockingly gestured to the huge criminal before making her way behind the bar.

  Seeing a picture of Lars Hansen didn’t have the impact of staring at the behemoth from only a yard away. The level five glowered down at Tyler. His thick muscles strained his wifebeater, and an arrogant smirk covered his face.

  Yeah, here’s a guy who thinks he’s going to win. Good. I can use that.

  Tyler looked to either side of the man. A skinny redheaded man in a trench coat stood to Lars’ side, but the info broker knew not to judge him on his appearance.

  It was Patrick Cavanaugh. The level-four wizard might not be as strong as Lars, but he could blow shit up well enough with his wand.

  Tyler narrowed his eyes. Patrick had turned Tyler’s offer down. He didn’t recognize the dangerous-looking dark-haired man on Lars’ other side, but he suspected he was another level four or five who’d been too chickenshit to take the information broker’s offer.

  He didn’t understand what they were doing there. Maybe they wanted in on the betting action, even if they were too afraid to participate themselves?

  Wait, this could work. If Brownstone doesn’t kill Lars, maybe some of the other guys would be at least willing to try. But what if they do kill Brownstone?

  Tyler furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin. If he couldn’t get another bounty hunter, maybe he could arrange some sort of high-end fight club between criminals. He’d have to wait and see how the first match went before he worried about future business opportunities.

  Lars yanked out a wad of bills from his pants pocket. “All on me for the kill, Tyler.” He held out the money. “Unless you know something about Brownstone I don’t.”

  Tyler took the money. “Nope. It’s not exactly like his ass-kicking is secret, though. You, though, got a nice ability. You’re not some wizard that Brownstone can smash in the face and win.” Tyler risked a quick glance at Patrick.

  The wizard’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything.

  You’re the pussy who didn’t agree to the fight.

  Lars grunted. “Yeah. Brownstone’s just a man, and I’ve taken out entire teams before. That fucker is going down.”

  Tyler started counting the money. “You don’t want to bet using any of the other categories? All sorts of nice categories here. If you’re confident, you can even make money by directing the fight. You know, maybe just maiming Brownstone instead of killing him? It’s more profitable odds, since everyone expects this fight to end in a kill.”

  “Fuck that. All I need to do is kill Brownstone and make money off it.”

  Lars’ flunkies chuckled.

  Patrick, you fucking pussy. You’re acting all tough now, but you couldn’t be bothered to be a headliner like Lars.

  Tyler forced a smile on his face. “What about you, Patrick? You want to place a bet?” He glanced at Lars’ second friend. “Or maybe this guy?”

  “Victor,” the man offered. His voice had a slight Russian accent. “I’ll bet on Brownstone dying.”

  Victor? Fuck, I called that asshole, too, and he blew me off.

  Patrick nodded. “Yeah. I’ll bet on Brownstone dying.”

  Tyler accepted their money and nodded. “You all seem pretty confident that your boy Lars is going to be able to take it.”

  The three men all smirked at the same time. It tightened Tyler’s stomach.

  Lars shrugged. “Not gambling if you know you’re gonna win.”

  What the fuck? Something’s wrong here.

  Two more large men pushed into the Black Sun and walked toward the trio.

  Lars gave them a slight nod. “You two watch this place. Make sure the bookie keeps taking bets, but also make sure he doesn’t ruin it for us.”

  Tyler frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, loser, that you didn’t set any rules.” Lars lifted his hand. The skin grayed and hardened. “All I agreed to is to show up at specific coordinates.” He laughed. “You didn’t say I couldn’t bring friends.”

  The room fell silent as everyone inside the Black Sun focused their attention on Tyler and Lars.

  Tyler kept a smile painted on his face to hide the panic that sent his heart thundering. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t say anything about that.”

  Lars stepped toward the info broker until he towered over the other man. “You talk a good game about being neutral, but what’s that even mean? It means you’re working with the cops, and you’re the one who was calling around on Brownstone’s behalf.”

  “I’m just trying to make some money here, Lars. I’m not on anyone’s side.”

  The level five gave Tyler a feral grin. “Good, then you won’t mind if my two new friends keep an eye on you. If you try to let Brownstone know about this shit we’ll have to have a little discussion, fucker.”

  “Wait one second. The Black Sun is neutral ground.”

  Lars snorted and shrugged. “Don’t see any cops here right now, fucker.” He flipped Tyler off and headed toward the door, trailed by Patrick and Victor.

  Tyler sighed and walked over to the odds board. “Because of the new information, the odds have changed. Give me a few minutes to update everything.”

  Fuck. Do I tell Brownstone? This is bullshit. He’ll think I set him up.

  He started erasing the info in some of the boxes, his face tight. Even ignoring Brownstone, Tyler didn’t like thugs hanging on him and threatening him in the Black Sun. There were no cops here and they likely wouldn’t do anything unless actual violence broke out, but if he let these assholes intimidate him, everything he’d built up with the Black Sun would be worth nothing.

  A man just couldn’t tolerate disrespect in his own place.

  20

  James had just finished fueling up when his stomach rumbled. He grunted. He needed to eat, but he didn’t have time to grab some good barbeque. He hopped into the F-350 and brought the truck to life.

  Fuel. Just like his F-350, the bounty hunter needed a lot of fuel for his upcoming Lars ass-kicking. He’d already stopped by his warehouse to grab a few goodies, but he hadn’t thought to get anything to eat.

  James pulled out of the gas station and frowned. He was already hungry, so driving another couple of hours would leave him ravenous.

  “Fuck. Why does driving always make me twice as hungry? All I’m doing is sitting here.”

  A yellow and red sign down the road caught his attention. In-N-Out Burger. Not barbeque, but it’d do.

  James pulled into the drive-thru and waited behind the long line of cars. In a moment he pulled up to a cheerful teen holding a table. “Welcome to In-N-Out Burger, sir. May I take your order?”

  “I read online the other day that you can order a Quad Quad from the Not-So-Secret Menu. Is that true?”

  “Yes, sir. You want a Quad Quad?”

  James shook his head. “No, I want three Quad Quads.”

  The girl blinked. “Three? Sir, just so you understand, that’s twelve patties.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll take four Quad Quads. So you know, a quad of Quad Quads.”

  “Your stomach.” She smiled, tapped at her screen, and walked to the next car in line.

  That should be enough fuel to kick Lars’ ass.

  Tyler and Kathy sat in front of the odds board next to a table with a small lockbox on top. A crowd of scumbags surrounded them. Many of the men were waving their cash in front of them or above their heads, shouting out their bets, desperate and worried the fight would start before they could get their money down. They feared missing out on the fight of the decade, if not the century.

  “One thousand on Lars,” shouted a suited man with slicked-back hair.

  A massive b
iker shoved him out of the way. “Two thousand on Lars, though I also want to put five hundred dollars down on maiming.”

  “Single-file line, please,” Kathy called. “Everyone calm down. We still have time. Brownstone’s not even there yet.”

  Tyler surveyed the huge crowd, his heart pounding, his jaw clenched.

  Shit. The bets aren’t balanced enough. The odds are way in Lars’ favor, but I don’t know if I have enough to cover all these bets if Brownstone loses. Fuck. If I welch on a bet, my neutrality won’t mean shit.

  Tyler did his best to keep a smile on his face, especially when Lars’ two goons looked his way.

  Need to find out a way to level this out. Warning Brownstone would be one way.

  His phone chimed with alerts of more online bets, but it was in the hand of one of Lars’ goons. The smirking man held it up to taunt Tyler.

  Need to get my phone back so I can at least warn Brownstone. At this rate, not only is he going to get killed, I’m going go broke—or people are going to break me when I can’t pay them.

  Tyler frowned.

  Maybe there’s a different way to work this. Got to use my assets, like my mind. Stop thinking like a thug like Brownstone or Lars.

  “Great money-making opportunity if you bet on Brownstone,” the information broker yelled. “You can be rich. At this point, betting on Lars is like putting your money in some savings account. Why not take the longer odds? Bigger risk, bigger reward. Now, that’s what I call gambling. That’s what a real man does.”

  A man scoffed and slammed his fist on the table. “Fuck that. Brownstone’s not gonna be able to take out Lars, Patrick, and Victor together. Why should I throw my money away? So you can profit, you little piece-of-shit rat?”

  Several other people shouted in agreement.

  Oh, you fuckers. You think you can disrespect me in my own place? I’ll remember everyone one of you assholes. If Brownstone comes out on top, maybe I’ll use my winnings to hire some badass magical thugs as security here. Can’t always depend on the cops.

  He glanced around. There wasn’t a single cop in the place.

  Tyler gave the man a grin and shrugged. “Just trying to make you all some money. Don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

  The man yanked the information broker up by the collar of his shirt. “You calling me an asshole, you piece of shit?”

  Tyler gave him a defiant stare. “The Black Sun is neutral ground. You want to hit me, fine, but you’re going to lose that neutral status. Then you’ll have to deal with the cops and you won’t have access to shit like this Brownstone vs. Lars match, so I would think long and hard about what you want to do. A few seconds of fun isn’t worth the trouble.”

  The man released Tyler and snorted. “You’re right. You’re not worth it.” He returned to the crowd.

  Tyler smoothed down his shirt and vest before returning to his seat. “Thought so.”

  Kathy leaned over to whisper, “You’ve fucked this shit up badly. I hope you realize that. We’re lucky that’s the worst thing that has happened.”

  “This isn’t done,” Tyler whispered back. “A good businessman takes advantage of opportunities as they pop up, and I still have plenty of chances to salvage this shit. A few hotheads aren’t going to cost me a big payday.” He tapped his nose. “I know how to smell a profit.”

  Katy snorted and straightened. “Whatever.”

  James was on his third Quad Quad when Heather called. He set his burger in its wrapper next to the bag on the passenger seat before answering on speakerphone.

  “Think over my offer?” the bounty hunter inquired. “I can give you Sergeant Mack’s number so you can talk about renting his place.”

  “I’m still thinking about that, but that’s not what this is about.”

  “What? Did taking Eddie out not solve your problem?”

  James frowned and switched lanes to pass. The I-10 East was surprisingly packed, but at least traffic was flowing at a reasonable pace. He didn’t want to be late for his beat-down.

  “No,” Heather answered. “Eddie’s merc hacker stopped looking, just like I thought he would. It’s just I’ve been keeping an eye on some stuff related to you, including odds for some sort of fight you’re supposed to have with a bounty. There’s a massive amount of betting activity centered at the Black Sun. What the hell is that about?”

  James grunted. “Found out about that? It’s not a fight, it’s a bounty capture. Tyler has criminal contacts, and he convinced a bounty to face me at a scheduled time. I picked the place, the Salton Sea, where I know I can go all-out and not worry about innocent people getting hurt.”

  “So, what, you’re some sort of fighter now? Going to move to Vegas and get in the ring?”

  “No. I’d have to go after the bounty anyway. This way I don’t have to go looking, and I can make some more money on the side.”

  Heather sighed. “Whatever. I’m a hacker, not a bounty hunter, but I do know that the odds went from favoring you to heavily favoring the other guy. There’s some talk on the dark web too about this. Everyone’s saying you’re going to get killed, and it’ll be the end of the ‘Brownstone Reign of Terror.’”

  “They wish.” James pulled in behind an eighteen-wheeler and briefly imagined what it’d be like to have one to haul a massive barbeque pit. “It’s just a bunch of scumbags convincing themselves of bullshit. I’m used to that kind of thing. It's not a big deal.”

  “I do understand a little something about money. Even scumbags don’t like to just give up their money unless they have a good reason to.” The sound of her tapping at her keyboard came over the line. “I’ve got a feed from the Black Sun now, and everyone’s really spun up. They are practically throwing money down to bet. Don’t have any audio, though, so can’t tell you what they are saying.”

  James snorted. “Knowing that asshole Tyler, he’s probably just conned them all with some bullshit so he can make more money off betting. Maybe he told them how I was out of town and might be late so the odds would shift and he could win more betting on me.”

  “Wait, Tyler’s going to bet on you?”

  “Yeah. Every time he does he makes a lot of money, so he’s learned his fucking lesson. Don’t bet against James Brownstone in a fight.”

  Heather’s breath caught.

  James frowned. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I just thought someone was going to kick Tyler’s ass, but they backed off.”

  The bounty hunter grunted. To his surprise, the idea of some asshole beating Tyler down didn’t bring the smile he’d expected to his face.

  “Huh,” Heather commented. “Oh, I wonder if this will change anything.”

  “What now?” James glanced at his In-N-Out bag. He wanted to know what was going on, but he also wanted to finish eating before his burgers got cold.

  “That AET lieutenant…you know, Hall? She just walked in.”

  “She’s got a weird schedule, so it’s not strange she’d be there in the day.” James reached over to grab the burger. He could sneak bites in during the conversation. “Remember, Tyler’s neutrality shit only works because he’s got AET helping to enforce it.”

  “He might have some trouble with that soon.”

  James gobbled down a delicious bite of cheese and ground beef. “Why?”

  “She looks kind of pissed.”

  Maria frowned and surveyed the bar. The Black Sun could be boisterous at times with all the scum that frequented the place, but this near-riot surprised her.

  Her neck muscles tightened, and her heart sped up. Every cop instinct in her was screaming that something was wrong. Very wrong.

  She grabbed her badge from her belt and slipped it into her pocket. It was a good thing she wasn’t in uniform.

  Maria crept around the edge of the shouting crowd surrounding Tyler and Kathy at a table. An odds board sat next to them.

  That can mean only one thing. Something is up with Brownstone. What has that dumbass gotten hims
elf into now? Waging war on all the Triads in California now, or the Russian Mafia? Did he issue a challenge to the Drow to return?

  The frowning lieutenant maneuvered through the crowd until she was only a few yards from Tyler. Men waved money and shouted around her.

  “I need to place my bet,” a Demon General yelled from right in front of her. “Fuck Brownstone. I’m putting five hundred on Lars.”

  Maria tapped the man on his shoulder. The gangbanger spun around with murder in his eyes until he spotted who’d tapped him. She might not be as famous as Brownstone, but she came to the Black Sun often enough.

  “I ain’t do no shit here at the Black Sun. You can’t touch me. That’s the rules. That’s your rules, cop.”

  Maria rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are, so, yeah, I’m not interested in arresting you.” She pointed at the board. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Ain’t you heard? I thought you would know because you’ve bet on this shit before. Brownstone’s taking on Lars Hansen.”

  The cop’s hands curled into fists. “Lars Hansen, the level five? The cop killer? The AET killer?”

  The gang member laughed. “Yeah, bitch. That dude, but it’s some weird shit. Tyler he got Lars to agree to meet Brownstone at the Salton Sea at a certain time, so it’s more like an MMA fight than bounty shit.”

  Fucking Brownstone. What was your brilliant plan? Keep him away from the city? Stop always trying to be such a fucking martyr. Last time you almost got your ass killed.

  Maria sighed. She’d hoped the bounty hunter would have learned to trust AET a little more after their recent interactions, but they obviously had a long way to go.

  Tyler glanced at her and jumped up from his chair. “That’s right, everyone,” he yelled. The boisterous crowd grew quiet. “The odds are against the famous James Brownstone, because Lars Hansen, being a cowardly piece of shit, is bringing two other people, both levels fours, to gang up on Brownstone. Now, I would have been far more interested in a straight-forward fight, but there’s still money to be made in the Great Brownstone Ambush if you act now.”