His jaw clenched, Shorty yanked out his potion and downed it in one gulp. Deshawn helped Isaiah. Within thirty seconds, both men were breathing normally.
Trey frowned and looked at his rifle; only thirty percent power left. He’d need to change out the power cell soon. “This is what we get for not just mowing all their asses down with our real guns.” He rolled behind another vehicle, squeezing off a few shots in between.
Two of the gang members fell, struck in the chests. Trey realized he had no idea what it’d take to stop a stun rifle shot. They did have a relatively short effective range, one of the reasons even most police departments didn’t use them.
Trey hissed in pain as a bullet slammed into his chest. It didn’t pierce the vest, but the throbbing ache felt almost like he’d busted a rib.
I fucking hate getting shot.
“Get ready for the rainy day, boys,” Trey called.
He ducked around the car and emptied his power cell with a flurry of wild shots. The rest of the bounty hunters took advantage of the suppressive fire to aim their shots at the gang members who were closing on them. Just a couple of minutes after the fight had started it was over, twitching and drooling gang members strewn about the courtyard.
Trey slapped a new energy cell into the stun rifle and patted the bullet-riddled car next to him. “This shit needed a new look anyway.” He glanced at the others. “Anyone else get a free vasectomy?”
Max and Deshawn snorted.
Shorty glanced down at his bloody pants. “Shit. I’m healed, but do you realize how bad getting shot in the nuts hurts?” He reached down and groped himself. “I’m afraid if I don’t keep checkin’, I’ll find out they’re gone.”
Trey rolled his eyes. “Stop your bitching. A lot of money was spent to save your balls. Yo, Isaiah, you all right?”
Isaiah nodded and moved his arm in a circle, testing it. “Yeah. Shit, never done this magic potion stuff before. It’s like I didn’t get shot at all.”
“This shit was sloppy as fuck, even if we were using non-lethals.” Trey kicked the tire of the nearest vehicle, but it was already flat from being a bullet-sponge. “But at least they’re all out, and you men still have your dicks. Go zip-tie all their asses.”
Trey jogged over toward the white-suited bounty. The man was still breathing, though he was bleeding from a gunshot wound to the leg. His gun lay several yards away, and he glared up at Trey, obviously not stunned.
The bounty hunter laughed. “This is too damned perfect. Your dumbass gang assholes shot you in the crossfire?” Trey nodded and rubbed his chin. “Deshawn, go to Lachlan and get the first aid kit. We’ll patch this bastard up and call for an ambulance.”
Deshawn nodded and jogged away.
Trey smiled down at Howard. “You’re damned lucky. It could have been a lot worse. Told you should have just come with us.”
Howard winced. “Lucky?” he rasped. “I got fucking shot. How could it have been worse?”
Trey shrugged. “At least you didn’t get shot in the balls.”
15
James parked the rental SUV several blocks from the target house. He’d learned this lesson the hard way the previous day when they’d flown to Utah to check out a Council safe house. Sure, they’d kicked down the doors and taken out the flunkies inside, and they’d even scored a few minor artifacts in addition to one of the artifacts missing from the museum, but that didn’t change the fact that a fireball had reduced their SUV to a smoking ruin.
Senator Johnston had been very obliging about sending a helicopter for them, but it was still embarrassing as fuck, and even with all the money James had, he didn’t like spending it on replacing rental SUVs.
James grunted and looked at Shay in the passenger seat. “They might have already cleared out. Maybe we should have hit these places simultaneously.”
She smiled and slapped a magazine into her pistol. She holstered it and then started loading shells into her shotgun. “I don’t think we’re ready for that yet, not until Dannec delivers the anti-magic deflectors. You and I might be used to dealing with high-level magic shit, but not your guys, and it’s not like the Council will clear out of every possible safehouse in the United States just because we hit one.”
“True enough.”
James opened the door and stepped out, tugging on the ugly gray coat that concealed his tactical holster and array of weapons. Shay attached a strap to the shotgun and slung it over her shoulder. She grabbed her tachi scabbard out of the back seat. Subtlety wasn’t part of her strategy on this raid.
Shay sighed. “And please tell me you already informed the cops that you were raiding this place and they should stay the fuck away.”
“The cops in Utah left pretty quickly once we explained.”
“Yeah, because I so loved having forty guns pointed at me.” Shay rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to have to explain to another bunch of cops why I’m a walking arsenal.”
James nodded. “Yeah. They know. I’ve asked the Vegas cops to stay clear through my local police contacts, but they have people on the way to patrol the perimeter. They’ve been making calls to nearby houses to tell people to shelter in place, and as long as we keep the damage to the safe house, it shouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe I’ll spread a little cash around as an apology if I do some damage.”
Shay laughed. “Look at you. You’re turning into a big softy.”
He grunted. “Just trying to make sure I only piss off people who deserve it. That way I have less to confess when I go to church.”
Shay grinned. “I’ll try not to burn down the block.” She winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll dip into my own funds if I cause any collateral damage.” She patted the shotgun. “Great anti-personnel damage, low on penetration. Perfect raid weapon.”
He shrugged. “Shit happens. Just don’t get killed.”
“If I even get seriously wounded, I will be surprised.”
The pair marched down the street toward the subdued suburban ranch house. The perfectly manicured lawn with a single palm tree and a white picket fence made it look like a slice of normal southwestern living rather than a safe house for a dangerous multi-planetary criminal cabal.
Guess I can’t just blow the whole thing up. Bad idea anyway, since there might be a few artifacts inside. This shit’s easier when they don’t hide in the suburbs.
Shay glanced at James. “You bonded yet?”
He shook his head. “Might as well get it over with.”
James took a deep breath and reached under his shirt. He pulled the separator off the back of the amulet and let it touch his chest. He hissed as tendrils shot into his body. His coat and shirt would conceal the truth from anyone spying, eye or drone, but they might wonder about his gritted teeth.
Initiation, the amulet broadcast into his mind. Insufficient power for advanced transformation. Increase power to kill enemies more efficiently.
The chattier and more understandable Whispy Doom had grown in the past few months, the more their mental discussions seemed to center around the amulet trying to persuade James in increasingly elaborate ways to get pissier and more violent. Not something he needed a lot of help with.
These assholes won’t need the full suit from what I’ve seen.
Find stronger enemies. Adapt and become stronger.
You’re like the fucking wrestling coach from hell.
Find stronger enemies. Kill. Adapt and become stronger.
James snorted and moved toward the fence. He nodded to Shay. “You want front or back this time?”
Shay ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek. “I’ll take back. The more interesting guys ran out back last time.”
“Do you have your magic shield?”
She raised a hand to reveal a small iron ring inlaid with intricate symbols. “Yes, Dad,” she retorted sarcastically.
“Okay. I’ll give you a minute to get into place.”
Shay gave him a mock salute and jogged past the side fence, disappea
ring around the back. James advanced toward the front gate and just stood staring at the house. The enemy had probably already seen him, and he hoped they had. Unless one of the Council members were actually in the house, he doubted the fight would last long.
Find Council. Find stronger enemies. Kill. Adapt and become stronger.
Yeah. Yeah. I know, Coach Doom. Challenge myself until I’m the best. Pain is just weakness leaving the body and all that shit.
“Coach” is incorrect designation.
James chuckled. What, you like Whispy Doom more?
The amulet didn’t answer, and the bounty hunter grinned. That was the first time he’d even gotten the amulet to shut up using a thought rather than an action.
“Ah, fuck it.” James hopped the fence and pulled out his .45. He advanced toward the front door, waiting for a fireball, lightning blast, or bullets. Nothing came.
He glanced at the house number to verify the address. The last thing he wanted to do was bash in the door and scare some innocent old lady.
This is the right place. These guys aren’t nearly as proactive as their buddies in Utah. That should have been enough time for Shay to get to the back. One…two…three…
James smashed his boot into the front door. It sailed off its hinges and flew several yards until crashing into a couch.
Four men inside the living room opened fire with assault rifles. The bounty hunter clenched his jaw as bullet after bullet struck him and bounced off, falling to the floor. The shots stung but didn’t accomplish much more than adding not-so-fashionable holes to his coat and shirt.
He raised his .45 and lined up the first gunmen’s head. He waited a few seconds as they pelted him with bullets, the frustration growing on their faces.
They actually thought that shit would work.
A bullet ripped into the door frame, blasting wood and dust over his face.
Fuck, better finish this before they end up shooting someone across the street.
One of the gunmen swallowed, his eyes widening.
“Wondering why I’m not dying?” James asked. He shot the man. “People keep trying, but it just doesn’t take. My girlfriend says I’m pretty stubborn.”
The other three turned to run, and he nailed two and missed the third. The poor bastard threw open the kitchen door, only to find Shay holding a shotgun.
She smiled. “Hello and goodbye.”
Buckshot shredded the man, and his blood splattered all over the couch.
“Is anyone from the fucking Council here?” James shouted. “Or is it nothing but fucking cannon-fodder assholes?”
A bedroom door opened, and a muscular man stepped out. He growled several times and pounded his fists together, and an orange aura oozed from his skin and surrounded him.
James and Shay exchanged looks, and both fired. The bullets and pellets bounced off the new arrival.
Shay frowned. “That’s some annoying shit.”
With a roar, the man charged. James tossed his pistol to the side and rushed forward to meet the enemy. He tackled the man, bringing him to the ground, but his opponent smashed a fist into the side of the bounty hunter’s head. The force of the blow sent James into a nearby wall, his large body leaving an equally large hole.
Huh. So that’s what it feels like.
Shay fired another shotgun blast, but Mr. Muscles didn’t even flinch. He pushed himself to his feet and glared at James.
Kill, Whispy Doom commanded. No new adaptations from enemy. Eliminate and find stronger enemies and new sources of adaptations.
Yeah, yeah. I’m not gonna let him feel like a big man for too long, Coach Doom.
The bounty hunter extricated himself from the wall and cracked his knuckles. “You got in one good hit, I’ll give you that, asshole. Now it’s my turn.”
James rushed toward the man and threw his punch. The man blocked it but wasn’t prepared for the bounty hunter’s knee. He grimaced and stumbled back. They traded blows, but neither got more than a grunt out of the other.
Insufficient power for advanced transformation. Increase power to kill enemy more efficiently.
Shut the fuck up. I don’t need your blade or extra armor to finish this asshole.
James threw an elbow toward the man’s throat. Mr. Muscles took it with a hiss but didn’t go down. He stopped and checked the man’s face. No blood. It wouldn’t be a simple matter of shoving his gun or blade in his mouth.
His enemy pounded his fists together again, and his aura grew brighter.
Shay rolled her eyes. “This is painful to watch. You might as well just whip out your dick and see who can pee farther.” She pulled out her sword and tossed it hilt-first to James. “Finish his ass already. This obviously isn’t one of their main bases, and this meathead isn’t going to know anything important.”
James snatched the sword out of the air. “This is a Masamune tachi. I doubt you can take it. Last chance to surrender.”
Mr. Muscles raised his hand and gestured for James to attack.
He shrugged. “Your funeral.”
The bounty hunter charged the man, keeping the sword level. His enemy smirked, confident in his invulnerability. A few seconds after James had run him through, the smirk faded and panic registered on his face. James pulled the sword out and stabbed the man a few more times before stepping back and holding the weapon out to Shay.
Mr. Muscles fell to the ground face-first, a pool of his own blood already spreading beneath him. He took a few shuddering breaths and died, and the orange glow faded.
She sheathed the blade after wiping it off on one of the dead men’s shirts. “Should have rubbed two brain cells together. What kind of idiot sees someone pull out a sword in this day and age and doesn’t assume it’s magical?”
James grunted.
I didn’t know it’d work against me the first time.
The damned amulet laughed at him. He was sure of it.
Find stronger enemies. Adapt and become stronger.
Shay tilted her head and pointed to the dead man. “Check out his ears.”
James looked down at the corpse. The man was wearing jade earrings.
“What? You jealous of his fashion sense?”
Shay laughed. “No, the Professor’s list. Those things have way higher limits than that guy was showing. With a proper magical infusion, he could have kicked you half-way across the county.”
“Oh, yeah.” James knelt and yanked out the earrings, slipping them into a pouch. “This shit is gonna get annoying if we’re going to have to go house to house and kill a half-dozen guys at a time.”
“Peyton and Heather are working on it.” She shrugged. “Besides, the more we take out, the fewer places they have to hide. From Johnston’s info, they’ve lost a lot of guys already. They might purposely be trying to spread themselves out to avoid a single decisive strike.”
James grunted. “I don’t give a shit about the flunkies. We take out Council members, the rest won’t know what to do.” He grimaced. “I guess we’ll just have to keep smoking them out until they crawl out of their holes.”
He glared down at the body. Whispy Doom was right. He wanted stronger enemies.
Yes, the amulet hissed. Find stronger enemies. Kill them. Adapt and become stronger.
16
Tyler stared at a smiling blond man in the corner chatting up a young woman. Kathy kept shooting glares at the Casanova, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Stone Hanson. How many girls have you sold off to twisted sons of bitches?
She walked over to Tyler and leaned over to whisper. “You telling me your neutrality extends to that trafficking trash?”
The bartender shrugged. “Extends to everyone. I don’t call the cops on murderers who come in here.”
“Killing a person’s spirit is almost worse than murdering them,” the brunette snapped. “And it’s not like neutrality means you have to let everyone in here, just that you don’t call the cops.”
Tyler rubbed his chin. �
��You have a good point. You think you can watch the bar for a while? I’m going to go take Mr. Hanson to meet someone.”
Kathy smirked. “Brownstone?”
“Nope. Someone just as interesting, though.”
“I’ve got the bar.” She nodded toward Hanson. “You take care of him.”
Tyler smiled as he pulled up the hinge and stepped out from behind the bar. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve got someone very interested in meeting him.”
He headed straight toward Hanson’s table and smiled down at the woman. “Leave. I need to talk with him.”
The woman frowned and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She smiled at Hanson. “Call me, sweetie. I don’t give out my number to just anyone.”
Hanson gave her a smile featuring gleaming white teeth. He maintained the smile until she was out of the bar. The second the door closed, he glared at Tyler.
The bartender sat down across from him. “Problem?”
“What the fuck was that about?” Hanson nodded toward the door. “You’re messing with my night.”
Tyler leaned forward and plastered a smile on his face. “You’re a businessman. I’m a businessman. I have a business opportunity that requires a man of your…skill set, but it’s kind of a limited-time thing, so I didn’t want to waste time while you hit on some bimbo.”
Hanson’s frown faded. “Okay, I’m willing to get involved, but if I’m doing the legwork, I want a seventy-thirty split. That’s not up for negotiation.”
Tyler shrugged. “Sounds fair to me. You got time right now? There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Hanson nodded. “Yeah. Lead on.”
A half-hour later, Tyler and Hanson stood in the Eyes’ dark and smoky room.
Hanson frowned. “What the fuck is this shit?” He pointed at the Eyes. “I’ve heard of you, some freaky Oriceran information broker, and you like mindfuck people, but they get off on it. Better than dust.”
“Yes,” the Eyes hissed. “Better than dust. Oh, so rapturous.”
Hanson nodded, and a smile slowly formed on his face. “Wait. You mindfuck some of these people, and they’re not dead from what I saw walking in here.” He snapped. “You want to establish a new revenue stream. You need someone to offload the merchandise.” He patted his chest. “I’m your man. I can get them out of the city or the country. I’ve got clients all over, firmly established and guarded distribution routes, and partners. Now, some of my more exclusive clients have specific tastes, but I can unload anyone. It’ll just be you’ll earn more cash for some than the others.”
Fatal Mistake: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 11) Page 12