James nodded. “Oh, I forgot to ask you earlier. What was up with that shit with the first few guys? I haven’t seen you move like that before.”
Shay winked. “I’ve been studying parkour. A guy I know convinced me it’d be a good idea. New hobby with practical use.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“You could always come along.” Shay snickered. “Though the idea of James Brownstone doing parkour is hilarious.”
James grunted. “I don’t want to anyway. It looks complicated as shit.”
Shay snickered. “Never change, James. Never change.” She nodded toward the door. “Have a plan?”
“He might have trapped it. I’ve got the frequencies jammed, but if there’s some mechanical shit going on, there’s nothing the gadget can do about that. I’d rather not get you blown up on our date.”
“Yeah, that would fucking suck.”
Shay wandered away from the door toward the opposite end of the metal walkway that led to the first-floor stairs. “Go ahead and kill the frequency jammer. I’ve got an idea, but I need to make a call to Peyton first. Wait there for now and make sure Leland doesn’t run.”
James shrugged and tapped the jammer off. He kept his gun aimed at the door and waited. Shay’s footsteps echoed throughout the warehouse until she left the building.
A minute passed, then two, then five.
Where is Shay going?
Something shattered inside the room, and someone yelled. A loud thump was followed by silence.
“What the fuck?”
The door swung open, and James whipped up his .45.
A smiling Shay stood on the other side. The back window to the office was broken.
Leland lay on the ground on his back, groaning. Blood was pouring from his broken nose.
“Just needed Peyton to check the layout of the place for me,” Shay explained with a wink. “Maybe I should become a bounty hunter. I’m damned good at this shit.” She laughed. “Maybe better than you.”
James grunted. “We could work together. That way you don’t always have to run off.”
“I’ll kill the fucking both of you,” Leland wheezed. “Do you know who you’re fucking with? You pissant bounty hunter trash.”
Shay walked over to Leland and slammed her boot into his head to knock him out. She smiled at James. “Nah. This was fun, but tomb raiding’s about more than just money to me. There’re things I want to know about the world, and it’s the only way I’ll find them out.”
James tossed zip ties to Shay to secure the prisoner. “Just saying.”
Shay smirked. “My little Jamesey-poo miss his woman when she’s gone? Don’t worry. We can do some shit like this again soon.” She pushed Leland onto his back and winked at James. “Nothing says ‘healthy relationship’ like time spent beating the shit out of criminals together.”
James and Shay walked side-by-side down the beach boardwalk. Streams of people flowed around them, some on the boardwalk and some having their fun on the beach or in the water.
Shay nibbled on a churro. “You’re not pissed that I didn’t go into the station, are you? Me and cops don’t mix.”
He shrugged. “I know. Remember, the LAPD thinks the AET killed you. I don’t want them to ask any weird questions.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s true.” Shay snickered. “I die too much. Makes me forget. I wonder how many times I can get killed. I’m like a cat.”
James spared a glance at her, still not sure why this beautiful and talented woman was interested in him, of all people. She hadn’t known he was an alien when they’d first met, and from what she’d said before and what he now realized, she’d been interested in him almost from the beginning.
Shay punched James in the shoulder.
He frowned. “Why did you do that?”
“You’ve got this funny look on your face like you’re trying to pass a kidney stone or something.”
James grunted. “Just thinking.”
“You should stop that. You’re not good at it.” Shay grinned. Her smile vanished. “What’s crawled up your butt now? Everything okay with Alison?”
“Yeah, talked to her just the other day. Things are going along well. That’s not it.”
Shay took another bite of her churro. “I liked today, James, if that’s what this is about. It was fun.” She laughed. “And you pulling a surprise on me out of the blue! Huh. That’s the greatest surprise of them all.”
“Why do you say that?”
“When I first met you, you were the king of ‘routine.’” She made air-quotes around the final word. “‘Keep it simple, stupid,’” Shay quoted in a deep voice. “I was too afraid to even be in your place in case I messed up a napkin or something. You weren’t the most…flexible individual, but now you’re grabbing your girlfriend for surprise dates, and you have a kid and a new business. You’re like a totally different man.”
James stared at the setting sun and the orange-red sky reflecting off the ocean. “I don’t know. Meeting Alison and you led to everything changing.”
Shay tilted her head. “Are you upset that shit changed?”
“Nope. Shit changes. Always will. This time shit changed for the better instead of the worse. All I can do is keep living my life and hope it doesn’t change for the worse tomorrow.” James grunted. “Guess I should get you back to your place. You’ve got to head out tomorrow.”
“No.”
“No?”
Shay sighed. “I do have to head out tomorrow, but I want to stay at your place tonight.”
Shay slid under the covers in nothing but her nightgown, her toned form on display, but her standard seductive smile was gone, replaced by an apologetic look.
James frowned. “Something wrong?”
“I do want to stay over tonight, but we can’t do anything super-fun.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Not that I don’t mind me a little ‘Stone, but if we fuck, I’m gonna have trouble walking tomorrow and I can’t risk that when I’m about to go on a job.” She laughed. “I guess we’ll see if the pelvic floor exercises help, but for now I just want to be held.”
James held her a little tighter. “All I want is for you to be by me.”
James smiled as Shay sighed and rested her head on the solid planes of his massive chest.
I get it now. Before I was just living, but I didn’t have a reason. Now I have Alison and Shay.
Two reasons.
James pulled his F-350 back into his garage, his thoughts lingering on Shay. He’d already kissed her goodbye and taken her back to her own place. He’d made her happy his own way.
This shit could work. We could have a real future together.
He turned that over in his mind as he stepped out of the truck. Things had progressed quickly for him to go from entertaining the idea of being with Shay to having a future together.
It wasn’t crazy. She knew his secrets, and she hadn’t pushed him away. Fuck. He knew her secrets, and he felt the same. They were two outsiders, and they were perfect for one another.
He trudged into his bedroom. Not everything was perfect. He loved having her stay over, but she did leave things unclean.
James threw open the bedroom door and looked around. None of her clothes lay on the ground. That was promising. Keeping life simple and having an organized, clean home were related, but not the same things. He hoped Shay accepted that eventually.
The bounty hunter stepped into his bathroom and frowned. A few stray socks littered the ground, and Shay hadn’t cleaned up her side of the sink after brushing her teeth.
Wait. This is the only place that’s messed up. It’s like she’s marking her territory or something.
James chuckled at the thought. Maybe he could leave her socks on the floor. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.
His phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket.
“The Professor?” he mumbled.
Good morning. I need to talk with you in two days at our usual place to d
iscuss employment opportunities. Stop by around nine.
James texted back. Okay.
Don’t forget about your participation in the Bard of Filth competition. Just because you’re still training for it doesn’t mean you’ll never have to participate.
The Professor followed with an emoji of a beer glass and an eggplant for some reason. Maybe Father O’Banion was already in control.
James scrubbed a hand over his face. The damned Bard of Filth competition was always hanging over him like a buzzard waiting to feast on his corpse. The passage of time hadn’t dulled the Professor’s appetite for hearing James spew filthy limericks.
“Fuck.”
I don’t know how to do this shit. It’s bad enough that I have to, but I don’t want to go up and look like a total dumbass.
James furrowed his brow. Plenty of singers didn’t write their own songs. It was time to outsource the filthy bullshit, just like he’d done with the magic in Las Vegas.
He’d thought about asking Shay before, but she was enjoying the whole idea way too much. Asking Trey or Sergeant Mack would make things weird, let alone Charlyce, Royce, or Father McCartney.
No. He needed an expert on depravity, but one who could keep their mouth shut and who he didn’t have to deal with on a regular basis.
“Fuck. I’ve got two days. I can find someone.”
11
James had just finished another slice of bacon when a thought struck him, one so disturbing that bile rose in the throat.
Fuck. No. There has to be some other way.
He did know one piece of shit who could keep his mouth shut, but he didn’t like the idea of going to him for help.
It’ll just be this one time. I’ll throw some cash at him, get his help, and give the Professor the performance he wants. After that shit, I’ll never have to worry about dirty fucking limericks ever again.
James took a deep breath and texted Tyler.
Tyler, I need some information from you on the side. Willing to pay a premium.
A few minutes passed, and James returned to his breakfast until the phone buzzed with the response.
Sure, Brownstone. Come to the Black Sun tomorrow morning around ten.
James grunted. He had the feeling this was going to backfire on him.
Tyler put his phone down, threw his head back, and cackled like a madman.
Kathy looked up from the glass she was polishing. “What the fuck, Tyler? Did you finally lose it?”
“Nope. I’ve just got a good opportunity to make some money and fuck with someone at the same time.”
“You’re such an asshole sometimes.”
“If it makes me money, I don’t care.” Tyler shrugged. “Where is the Bitch List? I need to make a few calls.”
The brunette rolled her eyes. “I thought you said those were the ladies you didn’t want served.”
“Nope. That’s my list of women who would pay money to see Brownstone.”
Kathy groaned and reached under the bar. She pulled a small piece of paper with names written in careful feminine script. She slid it over to Tyler.
He scanned the list, his grin growing by the second. “Forty? What the fuck? Forty hot ladies want Brownstone? This proves how fucked-up and unjust our world is.”
“It’s more than that,” Kathy corrected. “That’s just the list of women I’ve recorded since you told me to start writing those names down.”
Tyler paced back and forth, shaking the list. “This is bullshit. These women are drooling over that asshole freak when they could be with a real man who’d treat them right.”
“How do you know Brownstone won’t treat them right?”
“You heard about Brownstone dating anyone from any of your contacts?”
Kathy shook her head. “Nope.”
“That means he’s such a twisted-ass freak that once a woman gets to know him, she goes screaming away and won’t admit it.” Tyler slammed the list on the bar. “Whatever. I don’t give a fuck. I’ll get my revenge the best way I know how—by making money off the dumbass.”
“I don’t get it. How is this list going to make you money off Brownstone?”
Tyler grinned. “I’m going to text them all with a special Brownstone Date offer. I’m not going to guarantee anything but the fact that Brownstone will be in the bar at a certain time. Fifty dollars will get them the time and two drinks. Several of them will buy food and more drinks, so I’ll make thousands off Brownstone’s ass.” He rubbed his hands together. “Fuck you, Brownstone. I win again.”
The next morning, beautiful women filled the Black Sun. Most were in strips of cloth that could only charitably be called dresses, skirts or tops. Brownstone wasn’t even due to arrive for another twenty minutes, but most of his fan club had shown up thirty minutes to an hour early, and most had gone through more than two drinks.
All the tables were filled, and more and more men had been streaming in as well. Somehow the word had gotten out about the concentration of babes at the Black Sun that morning, and men, both criminal and civilian, liked their chances.
Tyler couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off his face as he counted all the easy money he was making off Brownstone.
Who would have thought telling Brownstone to show up would do better for me than offering two for one for drinks?
The front door swung open, and a uniformed Lieutenant Hall strolled in with a quizzical look on her face. She maneuvered through the dense crowd, frowning until she arrived at the bar.
Tyler pointed at a mopey-looking man in an ill-fitting gray suit sitting at the bar. “You, get up.”
“Huh? Why?”
The bartender pointed to Maria. “Because the cop lady needs a seat. Now get the fuck up.”
“Okay, okay, already. Hold your horses. Damn.” Mr. Mopey Suit glared at Tyler before grabbing his beer and wandering toward the TV.
Maria sat at the bar. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not drinking. Just wanted to check in.”
“Everything’s fine,” Tyler explained. “Has Dannec complained?”
“Nope. Just my first time involved in this sort of shit. Guess I’m obsessing a little.” She shrugged and looked over her shoulder. “By the way, what’s up with all the 304s?”
Tyler stared at her trying to figure out what that meant. He wasn’t an expert on police radio codes and had no idea else the number might mean.
“I don’t get it,” he admitted. “304s?”
“You know,” Maria commented, pointing at a woman in a neon pink semi-sheer micro-dress and heels that were probably used for hunting vampires on the weekends. “Bangholes, chickenheads, floozies, fuckbunnies, huzzies, hoochies, P.A.Ps, sausage jockeys, sororstitutes? Any of those ring a bell?”
Tyler laughed. “Oh, yeah, sure. Them.”
“Surprised you know so many.”
He shook his head. “Not everyone showed up. I’ve got more. But I’m still not getting the 304 thing?”
“It’s a ho-down.” Maria held up a hand. “I know, very police of me.” She frowned. “But please don’t tell me you’ve decided to branch out into pimping. I tagged you as a classier kind of scumbag.”
Tyler snorted. “Nah, never going to be a pimp. I wouldn’t look good in the suit or the hat. This is part of a little joke I’m playing on Brownstone. Going to fuck with him a little and make some money at it.”
“Oh.” Maria looked back at the front door. “Screwing with Brownstone is something I’m always going to approve of.” She stood and smirked. “I’ve got to get back to the station, but make sure you tape that shit. I want to watch it later.” She shook a finger at him. “And I’m not paying for the privilege.”
12
James pushed into the Black Sun, his attention overwhelmed by the raucous din and the sheer density of the crowd.
The place had gotten a lot busier since Tyler had somehow conned the AET into enforcing neutral ground status on the bar, but James had never seen it so packed.
It
was probably this full when these assholes were betting on my life.
He took a few steps in and stopped. Not only had he never seen the place so full, he’d never seen so many women there.
Tyler starting up a ladies’ night or some shit? This place is usually more of a sausage fest.
A chorus of squeals and cheers greeted his arrival, mostly from the women, but from a few men in the corner as well.
“What the fuck?” James muttered. “Did I walk through some weird-ass Oriceran portal?”
A busty blonde shot out of her seat near the door and all but threw herself at him. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her breasts against his chest. He spun, flinging her off, and she stumbled on her tall heels, teetering for few seconds before regaining control.
“James,” she purred, and batted her eyelashes. “I’m your biggest fan. I’ve read everything on Scourge of Harriken, and I’m an admin at Granite Ghost Groupies.”
James grunted. “Hobbies are nice.”
A redhead shoved the blonde out of the way. “I want to have your babies so badly it hurts.” She spun around to reveal a shitty tattoo of what James presumed was his face on her shoulder. “You’re my everything. You’re the embodiment of what a real man is.”
He shook his head and walked away from the women. Several other women stood and pushed through the crowd, like a horde of frenzied maenads all closing on their sacrifice.
Tyler stood at the bar, his arms crossed and a huge grin plastered on his face.
You fucking prick, you set me up. I’d pound your fucking face, but you’ve got your stupid neutral ground shit now.
“I want an autograph,” a groupie yelled. She leaned forward to emphasize her ample cleavage and the pen inside. “You can write on these puppies.”
“I don’t do autographs,” James rumbled.
Another woman threw herself in front of James and took a quick selfie. He stepped around her and shook his head.
The red glow from a small globe in the corner of the room caught James’ attention, a video camera.
Fight Fire With Fire: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 7) Page 9
