Shadow Of The Ring: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 16)

by Michael Anderle

  “Don’t give a shit about creating waves. If there’s a bounty, that’s enough. What did Trey say?”

  “I just got done talking to him on the phone right before you showed up, and he agrees this is good.” Maria chuckled. “He said, and I quote, ‘Sounds like a good motherfucking curb-stomp for the big man.’”

  James picked up the phone again to stare down at the bounty notice. When he’d first started bounty hunting years ago, he’d concentrated on low-level bounties. Even without using his amulet, he hadn’t had much trouble, and he’d quickly graduated to focusing almost exclusively on higher-level bounties. By the time he’d met Alison, it wasn’t worth it to even go after level twos. In recent months, he’d stuck to level fours or higher.

  “Fine. I’ll do it, but I want everyone ready. You never know when some easy job will involve some fucker with an experimental CIA grenade.”

  Maria smirked. “Ah, yes, the infamous naked Brownstone incident.”

  James grunted. “Don’t call it that.”

  “That’s how Shay always refers to it when it comes up.”

  James scoffed. “You two talk about that shit?”

  “Sometimes.” Maria grinned, too much excitement in her eyes for his comfort.

  “Whatever.” James stood. “Just get everything set up. Let’s get this bounty crap taken care of. If we wait too long, some asshole level-five will probably roll into town and cause trouble.”

  Chapter Six

  James slammed the door of his F-350 closed and frowned at the rundown warehouse. The problem with scumbags was that they always hung out in crappy places. Assholes never had any pride.

  Engage stronger enemies for maximum adaptation, Whispy whined. Projected adaptation minimal. Achieve maximum adaptation to achieve primary directive.

  The amulet had been bitching the entire trip over. Apparently, Whispy didn’t understand the concept of inspiring the men. The only thing important was making James stronger.

  Achieve primary directive? Which one? The one where I sell out the planet, or the one where I waste every other Vax symbiont who shows up?

  The amulet radiated irritation. Continuing adaptation in progress.

  That some sort of status report?

  From what James understood, Whispy had spent the last few months modifying him. It wasn’t totally clear what had been involved, but he was regenerating a lot faster, and his blade and energy blasts were both stronger.

  Maximum strength necessary for all possible primary directives, the amulet noted.

  So you don’t care as long as I fulfill one of them?

  Primary directive conflicts noted.

  James chuckled. The slamming of car and SUV doors echoed as the men and women from the Brownstone Agency finished stepping out of their vehicles. Every single bounty hunter wore a tailored black suit and an anti-magic deflector over a concealed bulletproof vest that added only the barest amount of visible bulk underneath their shirts. Everyone carried a stun rifle in their hands and a stun rod clipped to their belts, along with a holstered conventional sidearm.

  Someone moved in the second-floor windows of the warehouse. The enemy knew they were there

  Good. If they get all set up, this will make for a better show for everyone.

  Rapidly eliminate all enemies, Whispy demanded.

  Sure, I can do that shit. Then we can both be happy.

  Maria checked the power cell status of her weapon before turning to face the others. “Remember the general plan. We’re going to follow James and pick up any of the stragglers, but let him be the tip of the spear.” She pointed toward the fence behind the warehouse. “The OGs have set up on the opposite side. If anyone tries to run, they will pick them off, so you get the fun of going through the front entrance and watching the master at work. Also, remember that this is not a dead-or-alive bounty either for the organization or any of the individual bounties.” She gave James a long, meaningful look. “Clear?”

  James shrugged.

  “So stun them,” Maria continued. “Or knock their asses out. Don’t kill anyone unless your own life is at risk. Are we ready to clean up a dust ring and make a lot of money?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” the bounty hunters shouted.

  Maria walked over and leaned forward to whisper to James. “We need a good show, but will you be able to take out all these guys and not kill them without using your full armor?”

  James grunted. “Don’t worry. This shit’s gonna be easy.”

  “Okay. Lead on, then.”

  James didn’t bother to draw his gun as he marched toward the gate in the center of the fence. The bounty hunters fell in behind him, their guns at the ready.

  Heavy chains connected to thick locks secured the gate.

  “Should I go get some bolt cutters?” asked a man.

  “No,” James rumbled. He backed up and charged the gate. His shoulder slammed into it, and the chains jangled. After another two tries, the left side of the gate flew off its hinges and hit the ground with a resounding crash. “See, we didn’t need any bolt cutters.” He looked down at the chains still connected to the lock. “Good chains and good locks, but they need a better fence.”

  The bounty hunters laughed.

  Ethan jogged forward. “Mr. Brownstone, I’ve got a question.”

  James glanced his way. “What?”

  “Aren’t you concerned about the lack of surprise? Even if they somehow hadn’t tagged us before, they definitely know we’re coming now.”

  James shook his head. “A lot of the time, I want assholes to know I’m coming.” He tapped his forehead. “The lower the bounty, the greater the chance he’s a cowardly piece of shit. I’ve got a rep, and now the Brownstone Agency has a rep, and you can use that to make shit simple. The goal should always be to get the bounty, and if you can do that by scaring the shit out of them, might as well.” He glowered and stomped toward a side door. “If they know you’re coming, they have more time to think about it. Sometimes they’ll get scared and overreact, but if you’re prepared and not scared, it doesn’t matter. They’ll make all the fucking mistakes, and you can take them down.”

  The heavy steps of the mass of bounty hunters walking in near-formation echoed between the decaying buildings and sheds positioned around the warehouse.

  “It’s different for high-level bounties.” James narrowed his eyes as a shadow moved in one of the first-floor windows near the door. “A level four or five has enough power that they usually either have a decent reason not to be scared or will be so fucking cocky they won’t give up even if they’re outgunned. And if they have a stupid-ass nickname, it’s only gonna be worse. With those kinds of guys, you go in hard and fast and take them down before they have a chance to fuck you up.” He threw up a fist to indicate that the group should stop. “Let me open the door. It might be trapped.”

  James reached for the door handle and turned. It wasn’t booby-trapped, but it was locked. Unsurprising. He pulled out his .45 and put several rounds into the lock before holstering the weapon. A quick tug opened the door.

  A frowning thug with a shotgun stood on the other side of the door, and he pulled the trigger. With a roar, the weapon spewed a slug straight at the bounty hunter, who was less than a yard away.

  The round didn’t even sting, but it did tickle.

  Near complete adaptation previously achieved, Whispy reported, undercurrents of annoyance in the amulet’s thoughts. Eliminate useless enemy.

  The thug on the other side blinked and fired again. James stood there and let the man empty all five slugs into him. At the end of it, he had five new holes in his shirt but only the barest hint of redness.

  Surprised gasps swept the crowd of bounty hunters behind James.

  Maria smirked. “Seeing is believing, right?”

  James took a few steps forward until he was right in front of the thug. “It’s your lucky day, asshole.”

  The man swallowed. “I-it is?”

  “Yeah. We don’t ge
t any money if I kill you.”

  James glowered at the man and, with a quick grab, tossed him through the door. The thug landed hard on his arm, crying out. Three bounty hunters dropped on him like piranhas, pinning his arms and securing him with zip-ties before he even had enough time to fully register that he’d landed.

  The entrance hallway ran straight toward the main storage area on the right. Shouts sounded from both directions, but there were more voices coming from the right.

  Clear out the main group and then pick off the stragglers. This is why low-level bounties annoy me.

  James stomped down the hallway to the right with a feral grin. He might not have bothered under normal circumstances, but Maria wanted a show. If anyone asked, he wouldn’t deny he was having a little fun.

  Two men rushed around the corner, assault rifles in hand. The guns spewed bullets in full auto, further shredding James’ shirt but barely scratching him. He didn’t have a reason to bring extra equipment against a group of low-level losers, so the gray coat and tactical vest he would have otherwise worn had been left behind.

  Maria and some of the others rushed in beside him.

  Shit. Better not take too long. Somebody might get hit if I play around.

  James charged with a loud bellow, and one of the men dropped his gun and ran. The other kept up until he got a first-hand introduction to James’ fist.

  The poor bastard flew back several yards and rolled another couple after hitting the ground before finally coming to a stop. He groaned, on the edge of consciousness.

  A dozen tables had been set up in the main warehouse to form a sort of dust-processing assembly line. Boxes filled with baggies containing the colorful powder were stacked on a table farther into the room, with a station for cutting the dust with razors and mixing it with various liquids in bottles on other tables, a drying table, and a final table to cut and pack the final product into plastic bags.

  James almost admired the efficiency of the whole operation.

  The large number of men who normally worked the stations now crouched or stood behind other overturned tables, crates, boxes, and even the dusty remnants of a crane in the corner, all armed with a rifle, shotgun, or pistol. Even SWAT or AET teams would be threatened by the show of force.

  James stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. “You haven’t fired yet. Good. That means you aren’t total fucking dumbasses. If you surrender right now, maybe you’ll live through this. Otherwise, no fucking guarantees, assholes.”

  The seconds ticked by, with James convinced the fight was already over. He was disappointed.

  “Smoke his ass!” screamed one of the thugs.

  Hot lead blasted from across the room. Bullet after bullet struck James and bounced off. His already damaged shirt was reduced to a few scraps of fabric, and his pants were now more appropriate for a fashion-forward punk rocker than a barbeque-loving bounty hunter.

  The sustained volleys stung slightly, but they hadn’t pierced his skin—or if they had, Whispy was regenerating so quickly that James didn’t even notice.

  Engage stronger enemies for maximum adaptation, Whispy suggested.

  James roared and charged toward the nearest gunmen. The buzz of stun rifles sounded, blue bolts blasting throughout the warehouse. A few men groaned and dropped to the ground, victims of the stun attack, but their cover had saved the bulk of the thugs.

  One of the gunmen went for a grenade on his belt, but he wasn’t fast enough. James backhanded him into another man hard enough that both fell to the ground unconscious.

  “Hurry up!” shouted a thug hiding behind an old refrigerator to another unseen man.

  James ran in his direction.

  A few other thugs dared to duck out from behind their cover to take shots at the rest of the Brownstone bounty hunters. The luckiest thugs only took four stun bolts at one time. Most took more. More than a few thugs experienced a severe failure of their bladder control.

  James closed on the refrigerator, which was chugging along at a good but leisurely pace.

  A thug jumped from behind the old appliance with an RPG launcher over his shoulder. “Suck on this, bitch.”

  At least it’s not some CIA shit.

  The RPG roared away from the launcher. James broke into a sprint, not even trying to dodge. The projectile exploded against him, blinding him for a second and leaving a few minor cuts and burns over his body as well as minor pain, but all of the wounds started to heal immediately. The amulet was fully exposed now.

  James growled more for effect than out of anger as he yanked the launcher out of the thug’s hand and batted the man away with it. The bounty hunter spun and slammed his makeshift weapon into the stomach of another man. The second thug collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach and coughing up blood.

  “Shouldn’t give me anything this heavy and large to hit you with.” James picked the man up and threw him into another group of thugs nearby, knocking them over like bowling pins.

  Several dropped their weapons and ran, deep panic on their faces. The bounty hunters nailed most of them with their stun rifles, but a few of the criminals made it out the back door.

  James rounded on the ones who were making a last stand.

  Got to give them credit for keeping it up after everything they just saw.

  One thug kept firing while screaming at the top of his lungs. Another man shook the entire time but managed to keep pulling the trigger. A few others stood there with resigned looks on their faces as they fired their rounds.

  The bounty hunter didn’t charge them. Instead, he slowed, taking careful steps and growling the entire time. The thugs kept shooting.

  Blue stun bolts came from either side of James and sent the men to the floor.

  He looked around for more thugs, but everyone in the main warehouse floor lay on the ground, unconscious or groaning.

  Ethan and several others surged toward the back, rushing after the escapees.

  “Don’t bother!” Maria shouted. “The OGs will clean that shit up.” She gestured around the room. “Secure all the existing prisoners. We have to sweep the warehouse for holdouts.”

  Ethan shouldered his rifle and whistled. “Was that for real?”

  Maria knelt by a bounty and secured his hands. “What do you mean?”

  The rookie bounty hunter pointed at James. “He took a missile from a rocket launcher, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Technically, it was a rocket-propelled grenade. Slightly different.”

  James chuckled. He was a little charred, but not in any pain anymore.

  Find and engage stronger enemies for maximum adaptation, Whispy insisted.

  Ethan’s gaze rested on the amulet half-sunken into James’ now-exposed chest, the tendrils under his skin obvious.

  “You’re not just a badass,” Ethan observed. “You’re a force of nature.” He pointed at the amulet. “We going to get one of those eventually?”

  James shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want one. They’re annoying most of the time.”

  Maria grinned at Ethan. “That doesn’t mean you can’t work your way up to some nice artifacts. Trey can almost solo level fours now.”

  Ethan blinked. “Really? And he went from guys like this to that?”

  “Yeah.” James shrugged. “Everyone’s got to start somewhere.”

  Chapter Seven

  Shay took a sip of her wet martini. “You keep asking James to do shit like that, he’s gonna get a big head. I know he’s a badass, but at least he’s not insufferable about it.” She took a moment to check around the crowd in the Black Sun. Tonight’s group was more upscale, mostly higher-class criminals in suits and nice dresses, fashionable underworld types rather than gang members or street hustlers.

  I used to worry in a crowd like this. Now I wouldn’t care if an entire group of cartel enforcers came in.

  Maria gulped some beer from her bottle. “It was good for the guys. And it’s Brownstone. Sure, he can change, but he’s not exact
ly the kind of guy who’s going to become a diva over beating minor dust dealers down. That’s like an NBA player getting more arrogant because he can dunk over junior high kids.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Shay laughed. “Maybe I should have come along, too.”

  “No offense, Shay, but you’re great when someone needs their ass kicked, not so great when you need a lot of people alive afterward.” Maria shrugged. “We were looking for powerful, inspirational, and non-lethal.”

  Shay shrugged back. “Can’t claim I’m always good at not killing people. Inspirational? Seeing James beat down thugs is inspirational? I would have figured seeing him do that sort of thing would convince the regular guys they were kidding themselves about what it means to be a bounty hunter. It’d be like they couldn’t reach him or shit like that. I don’t know. I just have Peyton and Lily, not some huge staff I have to worry about.”

  “No, you have to think like a guy.” Maria set her bottle on the table and gestured to a passing man. “When they see a badass, a lot of them instantly imagine themselves as that badass. It’s all inspirational. I used to see it all the time in the LAPD: leadership by example. A good alpha male can be very inspiring, as long as he’s not a dick otherwise. Brownstone might not exactly be the master of social niceties or subtlety, but he gives a shit about his job and his people. The men sense that, so when they see him also being badass, it inspires them. They don’t resent him or themselves; they just want to be like him.”

  “Huh. Makes sense.” Shay sighed. “Just keep me in mind. I have to live with him, but you’re right. I haven’t heard him say anything about it.”

  “Hey, I accepted that Brownstone was a ridiculous badass a long time ago. You can’t fight reality, and since you’re marrying him, you should as well.” She looked over her shoulder. “Where is your fiancé, anyway? When you texted me to come out for a drink, I assumed he’d be coming along. There aren’t any level fours or fives in town, and he had his fun the other day.”