“Alison’s coming home soon. It’s not like I can trek around the world looking for some douchebag artifact thief.”
“Oh, it won’t be like that. It’ll be a local matter, and I should know very soon—within a day or so—if I need your services.”
James shrugged. “Okay, then I guess I’m open. What are we talking about pay-wise?”
The Professor grinned. “I could give you money, but you do not exactly lack that, and it doesn’t motivate you nearly as much as the lovely Miz Carson. How about something better?”
“What’s better than money?”
“I’ll owe you a favor, and when you come for it, this time I won’t be able to make you participate in a dirty limerick competition.”
James grunted. “I might win next time.”
“But do you want to participate again?”
The bounty hunter grimaced. “Nope.”
“We both know, lad, that you’re going to end up needing an artifact or two in the future. This will just facilitate the process.”
Why do I have a bad feeling about all of this?
“It’s not like you to get taken,” James observed.
“Aye, that’s true, but we all make mistakes now and again.”
James shrugged. “Okay, I’ll stick around town the next couple of days.”
The Professor smiled, but James’ stomach tightened. Something about the whole thing smelled off.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Professor. The man had been honest with him for years. It took a few seconds and a hint of derision from the amulet until James realized what was bothering him.
This is the first major mistake the Professor’s made in a long time, which means this Sanderson asshole isn’t some lucky small-timer. This shit might be tough.
The amulet’s eagerness was hard to ignore.
What are you gonna do if I end up dead, asshole?
“Quiet night, Maria?” Tyler asked from behind the bar.
The woman laughed. “Yeah, quiet night. Between the Drow and Tessa Vansant things have been tense lately, so it’s nice that LA is sticking to the old-fashioned kind of assault and murder that doesn’t need an AET team.”
Tyler poured her a drink and set it in front of her, hoping his eagerness wasn’t showing. A night of careful thinking had finally produced a useful idea on how to make some more money off Brownstone, but since Maria had joined Team Brownstone, he needed to be careful how he probed the issue. Not only that, but his plan might also require a little help from AET.
“That armor you wear on the job is pretty badass,” he began.
Maria shrugged. “It’s useful and light-weight, but damn it doesn’t exactly breathe. Let’s just say I’m glad I’m not on an AET team in Phoenix.”
“But it’s got all those cool features. Radio…fuck, it has a built-in camera, too, right?”
“Sure, but that’s not all that impressive. Pretty much every LAPD officer has a body cam. We just have a headcam instead.”
Perfect. That means a shitload of different guys getting video of every incident from different angles. It’s like having a whole film crew there.
“I was thinking the other day about what you said about Brownstone,” Tyler continued. “And how that Drow shit went down way out of town.”
Maria sipped her drink. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, because of that you all could really let loose, right? You didn’t have to worry about blowing up some poor sonofabitch’s car or hurting some innocent person in the crossfire.”
“Yeah, it was a good location. Wish we could have had explosive drones with us, but it was still a good place for a showdown.”
“So there’s a lot of value in level fives getting taken down outside of town?”
Maria nodded. “Yeah. Innocent people don’t get hurt, and property damage is minimized. That makes the mayor happy, which means the chief is happy, and that means no one is screaming at me.”
It also means that no one else, including the news, has a chance to record shit. That Drow battle would have been epic to witness. How much would people pay to see something like that?
“Kind of was thinking about that the other day; what I could do to help,” Tyler commented.
Maria set her drink down, disbelief coloring her face. “Help?”
“Look, I’m an info broker, not some sort of sadistic douchebag, and I don’t like level-five psychos rampaging through the city. Sometimes I hear things, and I might be able to let a certain asshole bounty hunter know. Maybe I could even whisper some things to the right ears, so his bounty ends up at a convenient location outside of town.”
“If you know about level fives, you should just tell AET.”
The plan was almost foolproof. He could hype a fight online and then push Brownstone and a bounty together. The trick would be getting AET there in time to get video without them spoiling the whole thing. Once they had video, he could easily get his hands on it by throwing a little cash around. A little creative editing plus internet hype, and he’d be a fight promoter.
It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong. Level fives needed to be taken down anyway. All Tyler was doing was working an angle that’d earn him a little extra money in the process.
Tyler nodded. “Yeah, sure, but I figure since you’re on Team Brownstone now, you wouldn’t mind him taking a whack.”
Maria arched a brow. “I’m not on his team. I’m just not obsessed with blaming him for everything.”
This is working great. She’s not coming to the conclusion that I have an idiot stick up my ass.
“Just saying.” Tyler shrugged. “It was something I was thinking about.”
“If you can steer the next asshole away from a population center, then yeah, go ahead and do it. What’s your angle here? You looking for a finder’s fee from Brownstone?”
“I was thinking more like some sort of informant fee from AET.”
Maria snorted. “So much for the goodness of your heart, huh?”
“Hey, if I can profit and help you take down a scumbag, isn’t it a good deal for everyone?”
“I’m sure we can figure something out. It probably won’t be a lot, though. Don’t get your hopes up.”
Oh, don’t worry, Maria. The money from the video and gambling will more than make up for it. I just don’t want to leave any money on the table.
Tyler shrugged and shot her an innocent smile. “I’ll live. Not every day can be a big payday.”
Need to get Brownstone over here and see if I can work some angles on him.
7
Tyler paced back and forth behind the bar, Kathy eyeing him like he’d lost his mind.
“Stop it,” the brunette barked.
“Huh?” Tyler stared at her.
“You’re freaking me out, and you’re making people nervous.” She gestured toward the bar and then around the room. “And this place has too many sketchy people. You look like you’re waiting for the cops to show up and haul us all off.”
“It’s just…fucking Brownstone.”
Kathy rolled her eyes. “Look, he’ll get you when he gets you. No use worrying about it now.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s something else.”
“What?”
“Every time I bet on him, I win.” Tyler threw up his hands.
Kathy side-eyed him. “And that’s a bad thing because?”
“Because I keep winning.”
“Money.”
“Yes, money.”
“You’re bitching about winning money?”
Tyler nodded. “Off Brownstone.”
“But you like money.”
“But I hate him, and now I’m about to try and make even more money off him. That’s fucked up.”
Kathy laughed. “So what? It’s not like normal people love every single company they invest in. You’ve got to get this Brownstone rivalry thing out of your head. Stop thinking about him as some bounty hunter nemesis and start thinking about hi
m as an investment opportunity.”
“An investment opportunity,” Tyler echoed. “I like that. Yeah. That will work. Time to make some more fucking money off that asshole.”
Thirty minutes later Tyler sat at his desk and stared at his phone, Kathy’s advice swallowed with a combination of irritation and doubt.
This is a terrible idea. This is the worst fucking idea I’ve ever had. But then again, it could make a ton of money, and I need Brownstone to make that money. If I get lucky, maybe I lose a little bit of money, but he goes away.
Shit. If he goes away, I lose any chance to make more money off him.
The information broker groaned and slumped back in his chair. Every time he’d bet on Brownstone he’d made money. It was like the universe was mocking him by forcing him to believe in a man he hated.
But hate didn’t pay the bills, and he trusted his profit instincts.
He texted the bounty hunter.
Hey, Brownstone, I wanted to talk to you later at the Black Sun about a possible business opportunity.
Maybe the man wouldn’t immediately respond, and he’d have time to relax.
No such luck. The phone chimed only a few seconds later. “Sonofabitch.”
What fucking business opportunity could you possibly have for me?
This isn’t something I can discuss in a text message, but it’s something we can both benefit from.
How do I know this isn’t another trick? You tried to screw me over before.
That wasn’t screwing you over. It was just a joke. Get a sense of humor, Brownstone.
I have a fucking sense of humor. I almost won a contest.
Tyler blinked and stared at the text, wondering when Brownstone had been in any sort of comedy contest. He shook his head and tapped another message into the phone.
I swear this isn’t about screwing you over. This isn’t about jokes. This is about the most important thing in my life.
What’s that?
Money, of course.
A minute ticked by before the bounty hunter finally responded.
Fine. I’ll consider it and come by the Black Sun later. Try anything and you’ll regret it.
Tyler didn’t bother to respond. All he needed was for Brownstone to show up. Once he pitched his plan, even the arrogant bounty hunter would have to agree.
He acts all high and mighty, but he was more than ready to bet when he knew it could make him money.
James opened the door to his F-350 and stepped inside. He’d received a text telling him to stop by and chat with the Professor about the job. The thought of a little righteous ass-kicking would help him work out some of the tension suffusing his muscles after his little exchange with Tyler.
Fucker probably has some new betting pool he wants to set up. Always trying to profit off assholes killing me.
His phone rang and he yanked it up, not bothering with speakerphone since he was still in his garage.
Blocked number.
“Oh, now that?” he muttered. “Who is this?” he demanded.
“Heather.”
“Oh,” James replied, his tone softening. “You find something?”
“Yes and no.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Right now, it doesn’t seem like there’s a single source of video. It’s multiple people recording Parkour Penny.”
“’Parkour Penny?’”
“That’s what they’re calling her online. That way everyone can quickly track down the new videos.”
James chuckled. Shay would hate being called “Parkour Penny.”
“And you’re sure it’s not the same person recording the videos?”
“Yes,” Heather replied. “If it’s not, someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to fake it otherwise. Different cameras, different encodings, different background voices. I’m thinking people might be looking for her to record things. It doesn’t smell like a conspiracy or some organization if that’s what you’re worried about.”
James grunted. He was more worried about the cops than conspiracy, but Heather didn’t need to know all his business.
“Is there any way you can set it up so I know when a new video comes out?”
“Sure. That’s easy.”
“I mean, so they can’t easily connect you and me.”
Heather scoffed. “Don’t insult me, Mr. Brownstone. I’ve got a bunch of different ways to do that, including having your phone text you through the web.”
“Okay, good.”
Heather snickered. “I’d say I’m great, but sure, good will do.”
A text popped up with only a number.
“Did you just send me a text, Heather?”
“Yep. That’s my fee.”
James looked it over. Higher than he wanted, but lower than he’d feared.
“I’ll transfer the money right away.”
“Then I’ll get to setting up your Parkour Penny alerts.”
By the time James sat down in front of the Professor the other man had already downed several beers. Familiar rosy cheeks decorated his face, along with a smile.
“It turns out I blamed the wrong man,” the Professor explained.
“Oh? You get your plaque back?”
The Professor shook his head. “No. I still need your help in recovering something from a man who is trying to sell back something that is mine. Yes, the plaque.”
James frowned. “Okay, I’m confused. You said this Sanderson guy was supposed to deliver it to you.”
“Sanderson can’t because he no longer has the item, and it’s my damned fault.”
“Now I’m even more lost than before.”
The Professor gulped down some more beer and let out a sigh. “I allowed something to happen that should never have happened.”
“Maybe if you showed me or something I could understand better.”
The older man pulled out his phone and flipped it around so James could better see the screen. “Sanderson doesn’t have it anymore because he gave it to a courier to deliver to me.” He tapped the phone and a video started.
A nervous-looking man in an ill-fitting suit handed a suitcase to a beautiful Asian woman with bright-green-dyed hair.
“Hey, I know her. That’s Addie, the courier. She helped us before.”
The Professor sighed. “Keep watching.”
The nervous-looking man hurried away and Addie took a few steps, a wide grin on her face. A few seconds later, her body shimmered and a man in a white suit stood there holding the briefcase.
The Professor shook his head. “I’ve used her so many times that I didn’t bother to ask about passphrases when I contacted her.” The Professor sipped more beer. “I contacted her again yesterday and learned she’d never talked to me. I must have been talking to this man the first time.”
James grunted.
“Sloppy and stupid, lad. She has procedures for a reason, and I ignored them and sent an imposter straight to Sanderson.” He sighed. “He’s been trying to avoid me because he realized shortly after that he’d been conned and was afraid how I’d react. But we’d both been conned.”
“Shit happens.” James shook his head. “Not gonna say I would have questioned her before if she hadn’t made me use your dirty limerick passphrases.”
“That’s all in the past. The important thing is that I now have a name and address for the person trying to sell my item. The only advantage we have in this is that the thief is far too arrogant. One Gregory Schwartz is far too desperate to unload my artifact. It’s made him as sloppy as I was.”
“You have his address? He still in LA?”
“Yes, for now. He seems to be renting a place, and I suspect he plans to leave as soon as he makes the sale.”
“Well, he’s got illusion magic, or an artifact at least.”
The Professor nodded. “I suspect he’s got a lot more than that. I haven’t had time for a deep dive into his background, but I’ve confirmed he’s stolen artifacts from others befo
re. He usually sells them, but we can’t be certain. He might also have hired guards.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, you’re you. You might be able to intimidate him into surrendering.”
James shrugged. “Kind of tired of dealing with people pretending to be someone else, but at least I don’t have to get on a plane or spend days driving.”
“Aye.” The Professor smiled. “I’m hoping you can clean this mess up for me without too much trouble.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Any bounty on this guy?”
The Professor shook his head. “The only people who have any clue about him are people in my field. He’s a very selective sort of criminal. I don’t appreciate getting conned, but I suppose I can take some small solace in how selective he is.” He finished his beer and grinned. “I should be honored.”
James gave a feral grin. “He’s gonna be very sorry he fucked with you soon. He shouldn’t have decided to give you that honor.”
8
“Man, I already miss our easy money,” Trey grumbled.
He kept his hands tight on the wheel and rolled the SUV slowly down the street, looking for the man he’d been told could provide some information.
Shorty stared out the window. “This is shit, Trey. We can’t be handling all this with just one set of wheels.”
“You’re right. I’ll talk with the big man about getting another car or some shit.”
“Also, you sure about this?” Manuel asked. “If we find the bounty we’re looking for, it’s gonna piss off the Mafia. Brownstone okay with that?”
Shorty and Trey snorted in unison, but the other men in the vehicle kept skeptical looks on their faces.
Hail To The King: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 8) Page 6