Alison Brownstone: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 9)

by Michael Anderle

  Alison Brownstone

  The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book Nine

  Michael Anderle

  Alison Brownstone (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2018 Michael Anderle

  Cover by Andrew Dobell, www.creativeedgestudios.co.uk

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, August 2018

  The Oriceran Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2017-18 by Martha Carr and LMBPN Publishing.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Other Revelation of Oriceran Universe Books

  Books by Michael Anderle

  Connect with Michael Anderle

  The Alison Brownstone Team

  Special Thanks

  to Mike Ross

  for BBQ Consulting

  Jessie Rae’s BBQ - Las Vegas, NV

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Daniel Weigert

  James Caplan

  John Ashmore

  Angel LaVey

  Mary Morris

  Peter Manis

  Tim Bischoff

  Paul Westman

  Larry Omans

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  Lynne Stiegler

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  1

  James stepped into the Black Sun, dried blood caked on his face and his current gray coat even shabbier than usual thanks to all the bullet holes. His shoulder and knee ached with each step, but it seemed like a waste of a healing potion for minor injuries.

  That shit is expensive. I’m not a pussy. I can handle this.

  Despite ambushing James, the bounty hadn’t been the best shot in the world. He’d fought tougher opponents, but that didn’t make the whole thing any less tiring or annoying.

  The bounty hunter shook his head.

  That’s what I get for not using the amulet, but the fucker’s gotten mouthier lately. I think I liked it better when I had no clue what the hell it was saying.

  Now he just wanted a damned drink. Coming to the Black Sun hadn’t been his first choice, but he’d already handed off the bounty to the police on the scene and he was close to the bar already, so it made more sense than driving all the way across town to the Leanan Sídhe.

  A drink’s a drink, right?

  The few scattered thugs and miscreants sitting around the room spared the bounty hunter a quick glance when he came in before returning to their drinks and problems.

  Since James hadn’t kicked the door in or pulled a weapon, none of them had a reason to be afraid. James Brownstone wasn’t anyone’s idea of subtle, and everyone knew that. Rumors about him working with Tyler had also started getting out.

  The bounty hunter grunted at the thought.

  I wish Shay would stop calling us frenemies. I’m not a fucking teenage girl. I’m not planning to throw the asshole through a window, but that doesn’t mean shit. We had an idea where we could both make money is all.

  James dropped onto a barstool with a wince. He reconsidered the idea of using the potion but decided a beer would be enough to dull the pain.

  Tyler finished polishing a glass and set it upside down on a rack. “Had a fun bounty, or is there some hit I need to start a betting pool on? Don’t want to pass up a chance to make money off your ass.” He grinned.

  Are that asshole’s teeth even whiter than the last time I saw them? Is that what he’s spending all his money on now, tooth whitening?

  James shook his head. “Sometimes fuckers think they’ll get lucky, but their luck never lasts. I took the guy down already and gave him to the cops. No money to be made.”

  “Damn. Well, doesn’t hurt to ask. You’re like my own personal mutual fund.”

  The bounty hunter shrugged. “The guy wasn’t a level five. Not a huge amount of money for you even if you did get involved.”

  “Sometimes long shots make for more exciting betting. And more profitable betting.” Tyler eyed Brownstone. “I wonder if we could work some sort of bounty-hunting equivalent of point shaving. Maybe you let the guy go at one fight, and then catch him later. If we set it up right, could make a lot of money off it.”

  James growled. “I’m not letting a bounty go when I catch him.”

  Tyler held up a hand. “Whatever. Was just tossing the idea out there. Calm down.”

  The bartender grabbed a bottle of Irish Stout for the bounty hunter and popped it using a bottle opener on the edge of the bar before handing it over. “Probably doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Tyler shrugged. “Yeah, I’m thinking the window for a lot of shit is closing with you. Hard to find people who still don’t understand that you don’t bet against Brownstone. Means there’s a lot less profit potential for me.” He sighed. “Still can make money off the streaming fees, though, if we ever decide to get another staged fight going. You know, a regular one where we get the guy to agree, and you pound him into dust. No letting him go.”

  “You still thinking about that? It didn’t go so well last time.”

  The bartender leaned toward James and lowered his voice. “Look, we made good money off that, even with the problems. And you’re still alive. So what’s to complain about?” He shrugged. “Yes, we need to work out a few kinks, but I’m not convinced it was that bad of an idea. Great new ideas often take a little work to get going, especially ones involving a lot of money, and let me remind you that you remove some serious scum from the gene pool. Even if you don’t give a shit about the money, that’s got to make your bounty-hunting heart feel a little warmer.”

  James grunted. “My girlfriend is still busting my balls over the whole thing, talking about how I shouldn’t have done it and all that shit. How it was dumb even though I won, but, yeah, I think you have a point.” He shrugged. “What about Lieutenant Hall? Has she stopped k
icking you in the balls yet?”

  Tyler glanced around the room as if the AET lieutenant might jump from a darkened corner, railgun in hand, and blow his head clean off. Knowing the woman, James wouldn’t doubt it.

  “Nope.” The bartender pulled a bottle of Jack Daniel’s off the shelf and poured himself a drink. He took a sip before speaking again. “Just the other day, she told me how I’m a fucking moron and how she doesn’t know if she did the right thing when she saved me from getting my ass kicked. Even said a few broken bones might have been a good lesson.” He sipped more whiskey and let it burn down his throat. “I’m half-convinced she wanted me to end up in the hospital so she could gloat.” He shook his head. “I don’t even fucking get it. We set this shit up so no one would get hurt, including AET. We should be getting fucking medals, in my opinion. It was a good plan that just needed to be tweaked.”

  James nodded. “Yeah, I agree. I apologized and shit, but the more I think about it, the less I understand why I was even saying sorry. Yeah, we didn’t think about those fuckers pulling that gang-up bullshit, but next time—if there is a next time—we can figure out some shit, or I can just bring some back-up, too. Besides, they cheated, and still got their asses beat. It’s the score at the end of the game that counts, not if the other team fouls you a few times.”

  “Exactly. I mean, if your woman’s so worried about you fighting bad guys, she shouldn’t let you go out and do bounties at all. Fuck, or destroy international criminal gangs. I’m sure fighting those assholes wasn’t even in the top ten of dangerous shit you’ve done this year. Doing your job and getting extra money isn’t stupid. It’s fucking genius.”

  James nodded. “You’re right.”

  Fuck, Shay helped me with the Harriken, but she’s mad because I took on a few bounties without her. I respect her skills, but I was beating down level fives before I ever met her, and the amulet got stronger out of the whole thing. Now I know it can do stuff other than increasing my immunity and the telekinesis.

  Shit, should really be practicing more with that thing, too. I’ve been afraid of it and not sure how to use it, but I keep running into people I can’t just put down with a bullet. It didn’t seem like I was being stupid.

  Tyler gulped down more Jack. “And what’s up with Maria being all pissy with me and acting like I’ve betrayed her trust or what the fuck ever? I’ve never hidden the kind of place the Black Sun is or the kind of man I am.” He slapped a hand over his chest. “I seek out profit opportunities where I find them. I fucked over no one in this, including you, and I don’t even like you. I did my best to help you, and even got the shit kicked out of me for it.”

  James grunted and let the other man continue his rant.

  “For fuck’s sake, one of the reasons I became friends with Maria was because of the betting shit I was doing on you before.” Tyler pointed at his chest with a thumb. “And I’m never going to stop trying to make money, and it’s not like I’m betting against your ass. I’m betting on your ass to beat down some bounties. How is it stupid to make money off something that’s going to happen anyway? It’s fucking common sense.”

  “It’s not stupid.” James finished his stout, and Tyler quickly supplied him with another one. “We did make money, and I’m not dead. Any fight you can walk away from is a win, no matter what the women are saying.”

  Two uniformed male police officers stepped into the bar. They did a quick survey of the patrons then headed toward a table, bored looks on their faces.

  Tyler filled his own glass. “This isn’t about your woman, or Maria, or even us. You know that, don’t you, Brownstone? Don’t let them fuck you over with their mind games.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  The bartender sipped some of his own drink and blew out a whiskey-soaked breath. “Men and women. Fuck. I think I get what’s going on more in some male elf’s head than a woman’s, regardless of race. How messed up is that?”

  James chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to listen to this podcast shit that explains it all, and it just makes me more confused. It’s just not logical, and it’s only talking about women.”

  “Exactly. They’re accusing us of thinking with our dicks, but we weren’t thinking with our dicks.” Tyler tapped his forehead. “We were thinking with our fucking brain. Money. There were no emotions involved, and it wasn’t about trying to impress people. And you were just trying to take down a fucker who you would have taken down anyway, all calculated using risk and reward.”

  “Yeah.” The bounty hunter let out another small grunt and shook his head. “I got banged up, but there was no one else around. It’s the safest fucking thing I’ve done in a while. Didn’t have to worry about the highway getting blown up, or if there were innocent people who might get hurt. The guys involved didn’t have some doom artifact that was gonna blow up the county.” He frowned. “Fuck. You know the real bullshit in all this?”

  “What?”

  “My girlfriend does dangerous shit all the time and is constantly telling me she doesn’t need me there, but I get yelled at for doing the same thing. How the fuck does that make sense?”

  Tyler shook his head. “It makes not a single fucking bit of sense.”

  A huge, tattooed thug with a shaved head marched over to the bar, glass of vodka in hand. “I’ve got something to say, and you two fuckers are gonna listen.”

  James looked him up and down. The bounty hunter might still be sore from his earlier encounter, but he could boot the man across the room if necessary. He wasn’t in the mood for any more bullshit, male or female.

  Tyler gulped down the rest of his whiskey and slammed his glass on the counter. He narrowed his eyes at the thug. “And what the fuck do you have to say?”

  “Bitches be crazy,” the thug intoned. “Totally crazy. I’ve been with my woman for ten years now, and she’s still busting my balls about shit she’s known about forever. I’m like, ‘Whatever, woman, you knew what I was when we got together, but now you’re whining because I’m doing the same shit I’ve always been doing.’ What the fuck is up with that? How is it fair?”

  James chuckled.

  Tyler slapped a hand down on the bar. “Exactly. Like I was telling Brownstone. This isn’t about us. This is about the women. Why can’t they just understand us? Are they even trying? We’re trying to understand them. No damned reciprocity.”

  The thug nodded furiously. “Don’t know what reciprocity means, but fuck yeah on the rest. Damn straight, brother. I’m not that hard to understand. It’s not like I’m some fucking alien from another planet with pointy ears.” He looked around for a moment, frowning, probably making sure there were no Oricerans in the room.

  James grunted. Of course, the other men didn’t know he was an alien, despite the lack of pointy ears, but that didn’t change anything.

  I believed in KISS. I made everything about my life simple. I still try to be simple. If Shay can’t understand me, it’s not my fault. She’s making things complicated in her own head, and that’s on her to fix.

  Tyler grinned, his cheeks now flushed and his tongue loosened from his whiskey. “What about you, Brownstone? What else have you done that your woman just doesn’t understand?”

  “My girlfriend complains because my house is clean and organized,” James muttered. “What the fuck is wrong with that? Does she want it messy?”

  The thug slapped him on the back. “I don’t give a shit about keeping a clean place, but nothing wrong with you doing it. She’s the crazy one, Brownstone, not you. Always remember that, brother.”

  Tyler laughed. “He’s right. She shouldn’t be trying to change you. Why isn’t she just trying to understand who and what you are? Why is she insisting that you change? That’s bullshit, I say. Bullshit.” He stretched out the last word. “She’s just being lazy and trying to make you feel guilty.”

  The thug gulped down some of his drink. “My woman comes to me a few weeks ago and complains about how this guy is talking shit to he
r and she thinks he needs to learn a lesson. So I go and pound his face, right? I didn’t kill him or no shit. He can still even walk, but then she comes and bitches at me for ‘taking things too far.’ Motherfucker’s still alive and walking. How did I take it too far? If anything, I didn’t take that shit far enough.”

  Tyler chuckled.

  James grunted. “Stupid podcast I listen to keeps saying that if a woman complains, she doesn’t want you to fix something, and she might get mad if you do it anyway. Said it's presumptuous.” He snorted. “How does it make any fucking sense not to go fix a problem that someone’s complaining about? What’s the point of talking about a problem you don’t want solved?” He gestured around the bar. “I’m a bounty hunter. That’s what I do. I fix problems.”

  “Nothing wrong with making problems go away,” Tyler replied. “I think women should try to understand men as much as we try to understand them, even though you can’t fucking understand them, ever.”

  The thug nodded his agreement.

  It was about then the bounty hunter realized there were no waitresses present, and Kathy, Tyler’s junior bartender and info broker, wasn’t there either, let alone Lieutenant Hall. James couldn’t help but wonder how much of Tyler’s willingness to commiserate on the difficulties of women was based on the convenient absence of any females around him that evening.