Eye For An Eye: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 3)

by Michael Anderle

  James considered lying for a moment, but no one who made barbecue that tasty could be truly his enemy. Maybe the Harriken were all secretly expert pit-masters and they’d relax and share a beer together after he killed another fifty of them.

  He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to since he’d have to pick up the ribs eventually or starve. Maybe the Harriken could win that way.

  James sighed. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Damn! It’s been a while since we last saw you. I was starting to think I’d pissed you off or you’d decided you hated my sauce or something.”

  “Nah, nothing like that." James grunted. “What can I say? I like to keep busy. Been taking a lot of trips out of the country to deal with bounties, and there are so many pieces of shit hanging out in LA it’s like trying to shovel snow in the middle of a blizzard sometimes.”

  The other man chuckled. “Yeah, I saw on the news how you took down that King Pyro bank robber guy. Good job. You know what, how about this? I’ll give you the five pounds for free. Kind of a reward for helping stop that bank robber. Just to let you know the community cares and all that. We appreciate you helping to keep the streets clean. I appreciate what the cops are doing, but we need guys like you to keep people like King Pyro in line.”

  “You saw all that on the news?”

  “Yeah. They had a whole special about it.”

  “Nobody bothered to ask me about it.”

  “Mostly they just were talking to the cops. The cops talked about how you’re a big fancy bounty hunter, and how they don’t want regular people approaching high-level bounties. I didn’t realize you were such big shit, Brownstone. Class Six? Damn! You’re like a walking weapon of mass destruction.”

  Not that James was surprised that no reporter had dared call him. The last few reporters who’d tried to ambush him for an interview had ended up with broken cameras and mics. Most local media who knew anything about him were smart enough to stay well clear.

  He liked spreading his reputation, but only through underworld channels. Media contacts only complicated things. Too much back-scratching.

  “I’ll pay for another five pounds,” James told him. “I’m on a little job at the moment that’s going to last a while and I might not be able to stop and eat, so your barbeque is gonna help keep me sane.”

  “Got a few more assholes to take down?”

  “Too many to count.”

  A loud laugh came over the line. “Yeah, I hear you. You got an Igloo with you? I mean, this is good stuff as always, but it’s not going to keep well in that truck of yours.”

  Irritation flared in James. The stupid rocket launcher attack had destroyed all his coolers, and the reminder of his damaged F-350 didn’t help. He wasn’t sure if a man could truly love a truck, but he felt something approaching that for his black beauty. Maybe loyalty or respect was more appropriate. Shay had married him to his truck, but he was fairly certain she wasn’t a licensed minister.

  However, with that woman, who the hell knew?

  “I’ll pay you if you have a spare cooler I can borrow.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll stick some sauce bottles in there, too. You just bring it back whenever you’ve done kicking ass in the name of truth, barbecue, and the American way. When you bring it back I’ll want a picture of you for our celebrity wall, though.”

  James chuckled. “I’m not a celebrity. I’m just a bounty hunter.”

  “Hey, you were on the news, weren’t you? This is LA. Being newsworthy here is a big deal. I’d rather have you then some airhead actor who goes on about crap they don’t know anything about.”

  “If you want my ugly mug on your wall, that’s your choice.” James changed lanes. “I’m kind of in a hurry. When I get there, can you just have someone run it out and throw it in the backseat of my Humvee for me? Trust me, it’ll be easier for both of us. Throw in an extra charge if you want.”

  “Sure, no problem. Anything for my celebrity bounty hunter.”

  James groaned and his friend laughed.

  Now more comfortable since he didn’t need to split his attention, James prepared to pull back onto the 110. That newfound comfort vanished when he spotted a motorcycle barreling down the street from the opposite direction, going well above the speed limit. Fortunately there weren’t any other cars around.

  “Uh, I’ll be there in about ten minutes to pick up the ribs,” the bounty hunter said. “But I’ve got to get off the phone for now. Don’t want to get a distracted-driving ticket.”

  “Okay. See you soon, then.”

  James pulled into the inside lane on the four-lane road. The motorcyclist might just be an asshole trying to compensate for a small dick, but it wouldn’t hurt to be ready for another hitman. The Humvee was a powerful vehicle, but it was a rental civilian model and lacked any sort of real protection against small-arms fire.

  Huh. Wonder if I should do something about armoring up the F-350? But if I did it wouldn’t be the same truck. Fucking Harriken. Now you’re making me question my loyal truck!

  The Humvee and motorcycle closed on each other from opposite lanes. One of the rider’s hands reached inside his leather jacket.

  “Yeah, of course,” James muttered. “Here we go, asshole. You should have left well enough alone.”

  The biker pulled out a pistol a few seconds later, and James threw the wheel over to steer the Humvee into the bike’s lane and slammed on his brakes. The rider jerked the bike to the side to avoid the Humvee and Brownstone threw open the drivers-side door, nailing the rider. His bike scraped across the road, leaving a trail of broken plastic and metal behind it.

  “Asshole should have come at me in a tank.” Brownstone griped.

  The biker’s gun flew out of reach and James smiled, knowing it’d be obvious to any LAPD spy-in-the-sky.

  See? I’m just defending myself. All nice and legal. I can’t help it if dumbasses keep getting hurt when they try to fucking kill me.

  The biker rolled to a stop, his jacket and pants torn and blood on the ground. The man let out a low groan, proving he’d survived. If he hadn’t been in a leather jacket and helmet he’d probably be dead.

  “It’s your lucky day, asshole,” James yelled. “I don’t have time for your shit because I’m too hungry.”

  He slammed his door shut and accelerated away. Given that the cops were on his ass almost as much as the criminals, he figured they would come and pick up the latest contestant on Who Wants to be Beaten Down by Brownstone?

  His stomach rumbled again. “I’ve got barbecue to pick up.”

  Officer Siad glanced at the computer screen in the center of her dashboard and blinked at the dispatch report. She tapped a few commands, then called dispatch to verify the report. Never could be too sure about what was going on in a city like Los Angeles, especially with all the weirdos who lived here.

  “Dispatch, please verify the requested apprehension on Crenshaw and South Vermont. The report mentions gun on scene. Is the shooter still active?”

  Her radio crackled to life. “Don’t worry, just cuff the suspect and wait for the ambulance. He’s already been subdued. He’s not just some random idiot, but an idiot who tried to off James Brownstone.”

  Siad winced. She didn’t want to be anywhere near a Brownstone mess. “Is the suspect a level-four or above bounty? If so, I request AET backup.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Don’t have an ID, so no known bounty yet, but from what the drone team reports this guy wouldn’t even be level-two. Pretty sure he’s got more than a few broken bones, so he’s not going anywhere. Brownstone did a number on him.”

  The cop shook her head and chuckled. “He’s lucky he’s still alive after taking on Brownstone. Okay, I’m about two minutes out.”

  “We’ll tell the drone controllers to announce you’re thirty seconds out. That should keep him there until you arrive, not that he’s going anywhere anyway. Poor bastard.”

  “Thanks.”

  Officer Siad th
ought, Nice easy arrest. I guess I should thank you, Brownstone.

  “Fuck.” The downed biker rolled onto his back and groaned. Pain wracked his body, and he was pretty sure his shoulder and leg were broken.

  “Should have stuck to dealing dust,” he muttered, trying to crawl toward a nearby fence. “Why the fuck did I think I could do this? Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  Five-hundred and fifty thousand dollars was why. Sure, he’d never killed anyone before, but he’d come close, and he figured one little bullet would take him to the big time. Now he had no dead bounty hunter and would end up in the hospital. It would be hard to deal dust from there.

  He wasn’t a total moron.

  It wasn’t like he’d thought he could take out Brownstone in a fair fight. He’d just planned to be a chickenshit and ambush him. Tough guys like Brownstone expected big impressive enemies, not low-level dust dealers showing up to pop them.

  He should have had surprise on his side.

  Instead, the bounty hunter had put him on his ass before he’d managed a single shot. So much for his brilliant ambush.

  The biker had been lucky. He’d gotten a text from his cousin, who’d said his brother’s friend had told him that the bounty hunter was heading his way. There was no way he could have passed on the opportunity. Not for so much money. Better odds than the lotto.

  “At least I’m not dead,” the man muttered. “I already made my drop-off with the supplier, so it wasn’t like the day could get any worse.” He gritted his teeth as a shift in his body sent waves of pain through his shoulder and leg. “Fuck!”

  Another groan escaped, but this time it wasn’t because of the agony.

  An LAPD drone that was easily over two feet in diameter descended, red and blue lights flashing above it.

  “Attention,” came a voice from a speaker in the bottom of the drone. “This is the LAPD. You are under arrest for reckless driving, reckless endangerment, disorderly conduct, brandishing a firearm, and being stupid around Brownstone. A uniformed officer will be on scene in thirty seconds. Do not attempt to flee or resisting arrest will be added to the charges.”

  “Fucking Brownstone!” the man screamed.

  8

  Lieutenant Hall looked at the drone feed from the latest Brownstone encounter and shook her head.

  “I can’t believe this shit,” she spat. “This guy is like a danger magnet. Now, it’s like the city should have Brownstone insurance. Covers acts of God and Brownstone.”

  “I almost feel sorry for some of these guys,” Sergeant Weber remarked.

  He withered under his lieutenant’s glare.

  “I said ‘almost,’” he squeaked.

  “And what’s the ETA on the black-and-white arriving to pick up Absolute Zero?” Maria said. “What’s taking them so damn long? We going to wait for Brownstone to put six guys in a coma and collect them all at once?”

  Weber looked at the screen. “About four more minutes. There were a couple of accidents blocking traffic. Maybe we should have sent a VTOL unit?” He looked over his shoulder at his boss. “For that matter, shouldn’t we have sent an ambulance, too? Brownstone fucked him up pretty badly.”

  “A few broken ribs won’t kill a guy like that. And just because Brownstone’s a dangerous threat and thug doesn’t mean Absolute Zero’s a victim. That guy’s a stone-cold killer, and he doesn’t even try to restrain himself with other assholes like Brownstone.” She smacked her fist into her palm. “Nope. I don’t want to give that bastard any chance of escaping. The black-and-white can take that killer to the hospital and make sure he doesn’t get away. Brownstone did us a favor here, and I’m going to take advantage of it.”

  Weber stared at her.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  “No, I just… Do we really want to go after Brownstone right now?”

  “We’re the police. We’re here to keep order. The longer Brownstone runs around playing cat and mouse with these killers, the higher the chance that some little girl dies in the crossfire. I don’t give a shit that he said he’s going to try and draw these guys away. As long as he’s in our city his very presence threatens our citizens.”

  Weber turned back to the screen.

  The lieutenant narrowed her eyes as a black Porsche headed straight toward the tied-up hitman. “Now what? Who the hell is that? Is that a plainclothes?”

  “No clue.” The sergeant shrugged. “I don’t know anyone in the department with a car that nice.” He entered a few commands. “Our guys are still not on scene, and it’s a black-and-white approaching. No unmarked or off-duty vehicles in the area.”

  Maria pointed toward the screen. “And what’s up with his license plate?”

  Ribbons of color and distortion danced across the plate, confounding any attempt to read the number.

  “Shit,” Weber exclaimed. “Plate disruptor. If he’s got that, then…” He groaned. “Yeah, he knows we’re watching.”

  “Nothing worse than a smart criminal. Brownstone’d better watch his ass. It seems like the pros are starting to show up.”

  “Shit, you think he’s a friend of Absolute Zero?”

  A suited man stepped out of the vehicle with a long butterfly knife in hand. A black hood covered his head.

  The lieutenant grimaced. “I’m guessing he’s not a friend of our guy. Damn it. Where is that black-and-white?”

  The hooded man swaggered over to the tied-up hitman and slit his throat in one smooth motion. The two cops watching winced. The killer wiped the blade off on the dying hitman’s shirt before flicking his knife closed and slipping into a pocket.

  “Damn, that was cold!” Weber declared. “Why?”

  “Because he’s an asshole criminal. Don’t need more explanation than that.”

  The hooded man’s head turned, and even though they couldn’t see his face it was clear he was looking straight at the drone. He reached for a silver bracelet on his left wrist.

  “No, no, no,” Weber shouted. “Does that asshole know how much that costs?”

  “I’m guessing that’s the point.”

  The drone feed died. A few seconds later the computer chimed, and an alert box popped up.

  CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR IN DRONE 23-ALPHA.

  Lieutenant Hill sighed. Congratulations, Brownstone. There’s now officially someone else out there that’s pissed me off more than you have today.

  She rubbed the back of her neck. “Fuck this. We’re not going to be able to do this all in-house, and that hooded asshole is already a step above what we’ve already seen. Time to up our game.”

  “You want to just gather a strike team and bring in Brownstone?”

  “Nope. I want less trouble, not more. We have to be smart about any play we make. Politics and all that shit. We need more resources.”

  Weber furrowed his brow. “I thought the captain hadn’t restricted any asset use?”

  “He didn’t, but we need more than just drones and guns.” Maria nodded, her mind made up. “I’m going to call Delroy Washington in the anti-gang task force. They had their eye on Brownstone anyway, and this is the exact kind of crap they’ve been worried about. With that hooded bastard killing Absolute Zero, this has gone beyond them hunting Brownstone. As far as I can tell, that asshole bounty hunter might be starting a major war.”

  Esteban smiled as his car drove away from the downed police drone. The Harriken contract on Brownstone would earn him a lot of money, but he cared less about the money than the value to his reputation. Brownstone’s name was whispered on the streets like he was a deadly monster. But every monster had a weakness, and Esteban would find it.

  When he slew Brownstone, a man who had put the fear of God into an international criminal organization, Esteban would inherit that fear. He almost giggled at the thought.

  Strategy could lay waste to any enemy. Brownstone relied on terror and surprise, but Esteban wouldn’t let himself be rattled. He’d come close to death countless times. The clarity each incident h
ad carved into his soul made every new encounter that much easier.

  If it was his time to meet the Devil, then so be it.

  Esteban pulled back onto the highway, thinking of the other hitman he’d just killed. That Brownstone had shown mercy to the others who had attacked him didn’t matter. If they died at his hands it’d be less competition, and if Brownstone only restrained them, Esteban’s beloved blade El Cid would finish them off.

  The world should be made stronger and failures removed from it. That was the way of nature and all of creation. A man who could die at his hands wasn’t of any value. Brownstone would die and prove that Esteban was the greater creation.

  “Thank you, Señor Brownstone,” the assassin whispered to himself, “for finally giving me a challenge worthy of my talents.”

  Esteban changed lanes. He needed to pick up a few extra tools.

  James pulled up outside the barbecue place, where a smiling man in a red apron stood outside next to a red and white Igloo cooler. The bounty hunter rolled down his window and gestured to him.

  “I’m James Brownstone. I’m here to pick up my food.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Brownstone,” the man said. “I’ve heard a lot about you from the boss. He says you’re the King of Barbecue. Says you could run your own barbecue joint if you ever got out of the ass-kicking business.”

  James grunted. “Eh, I just like barbecue. I’m not so good.” He nodded toward the back seat. “Could you put the cooler in there?” He reached over into the back to throw open the door.

  “Sure thing.” The man picked up the cooler and headed over to the Humvee. He slipped the cooler into the back. “Boss said to give you some plastic bags and drinks. You’ve got four beers in there and five waters. Not sure which you’ll need first.” He chuckled. “Guessing you won’t want to start with the beers until you’re off the road.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. It’s been a hell of a last couple of days, so it’s nice to get some good food.”