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

by Michael Anderle

  “Yes. They told me there’s nothing they can really do until the storm’s over, and I didn’t dare delay this meeting. Can’t risk getting fired, you know. This is a major client.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” The guard nodded, a sympathetic look finally appearing on his face. “Well, no scum gets through here, so rest assured, there’ll be no incidents during your time in Coto de Caza.”

  No scum? Do I count?

  “That’s good to know,” James replied with an even broader fake smile. His face hurt. He placed the guest pass on the dashboard. “It’s been a rough couple of days, you know?”

  “I’m sure.” The guard pressed a button and the gate slid open with a hum.

  James pulled the damaged Humvee through. He didn’t like lying and misrepresenting his identity. The more lies a man told the more he had to keep track of, and that led to straightforward things turning complicated.

  That was one of the reasons he enjoyed bounty hunting. He didn’t have to rely on misdirection or fibs. He tracked people, found them, and brought them in. Simple as a straight line, most days.

  Fucking Harriken. I sent my message to you and I figured you got it, but nah. You obviously need a reminder. Fine. Once I’ve cleared out the riffraff I’m coming straight for you, and I won’t stop even if the cops tell me to lay off.

  The damaged Humvee maneuvered through the local streets. Heavy rain still fell from the sky, but the thunder and lightning had ceased for the moment. James kept his speed low, not wanting to accidentally nail some stupid kid who decided to play in the street on a rainy day.

  Or worse yet, get a stupid speeding ticket. That would make it easier for those tracking him. He could hear it now.

  Where’s James Brownstone?

  By the car flashing the blue and red lights, properly kissing that cop’s ass.

  He looked around as he drove. The term “gated community” was insufficient to properly capture the scale of Coto de Caza. James’ review of the map had indicated that the community was seven miles long and a couple of miles wide.

  A damned city unto itself.

  His destination was the eastern edge of the community, an area which would allow him easy access to mostly private hilly terrain. It was a great place to gather hitmen and lead them to their dooms without random buildings getting destroyed. First, though, he needed a few tools to implement his plan, and that required the Professor.

  James made it through the main community and headed in the general direction of Crow Canyon on a back road. After a few more minutes of driving, he spotted a bright red Jaguar parked on the side of the road. The bounty hunter pulled over and threw open his passenger-side door.

  The Professor hurried out of the Jaguar in a ridiculous yellow rain poncho that made him look like some sort of kid waiting for his school bus. He pulled himself into the passenger seat and shut the door, a small briefcase in hand.

  “If I wanted this much rain I would have moved to Seattle,” the Professor whined.

  “Thanks for agreeing to help me out, Professor,” James told him. “This will make things a lot easier. I think I’ll be able to finish off all these hitmen with the plan I outlined over the phone.”

  The Professor handed him the briefcase. “I hope you know what you’re doing, lad, because it sounds to me like you have to get a lot of things going your way for that plan to work—and I don’t know if you’re that lucky. The fact that you’re being chased by a bunch of hitmen suggests you’re not.”

  James shrugged. “It’s not luck if you’re cheating a little.”

  The Professor chuckled. “Aye, lad.” He patted the briefcase. “Both of the items you requested are inside. Note, I’m loaning them to you, not giving them to you. You already owe me a few favors, and if you destroy these we might have to bring back indentured servitude.”

  The bounty hunter grunted, then a chuckle escaped his lips. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind and make sure not to break them.”

  The older man eyed James severely, but it was hard to take him seriously in the rain poncho. James managed not to laugh, but only barely.

  “The first item you requested will work for five minutes. The other...two minutes if you’re lucky, but I wouldn’t push it past a minute to be safe.”

  “Okay.”

  Smite-Williams stared at James for a few long seconds. “Don’t die, lad. I like to collect on my debts.”

  James looked at the Professor. “I’m not going to die. Not for a few days, anyway.”

  The Professor opened the door, hopped out, and hurried back into his Jaguar. A moment later, the car disappeared down the road. James started up his damaged Humvee and continued toward his ultimate destination.

  The only major disadvantage to his plan was that he’d be forced to ditch the vehicle—and be forced to pay for it—but given the level of damage it’d already sustained James had resigned himself to that fate. He only hoped insurance would cushion the blow.

  “Gonna have to hunt a few high-level bounties after this,” James muttered, “to make up for all this money I’ll be shelling out. Maybe I should sue the Harriken. It’d be funny to see how they’d react to that shit.”

  The Humvee rattled and shook as James headed off the road toward the hilly country, which was dominated by grass and trails. The trees grew sparser, but that didn’t matter. He hadn’t come to this area to hide.

  Being spotted was a major part of the plan. He needed his enemy to have at least some clue where he was if the plan was going to work.

  When James finally brought the vehicle to a halt he glanced into the backseat at the Igloo and sighed. Just another thing he’d have to replace. It wasn’t like he could hike at the speed he needed and tow a cooler along with him.

  He reached into the back and unzipped his go-case. It was time to make a more portable go-bag. He pulled a collapsible backpack out of the case and started loading gear from the suitcase into it. While he hoped to have everything resolved in the next day or two, he wanted to be prepared if things took longer.

  “Glad I stuck a hat in here,” James mumbled to himself as he listened to the rain pound against the roof and windows. “Maybe I should have brought a stupid-looking poncho, too. Bet Shay would have loved that. Would have gone on about my fashion sense for a whole fucking five minutes.”

  A few Ziploc bags filled with ice and ribs were deposited into the backpack, along with some bottles of water. It’d have to do for a meal on the run, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t go a day without food if needed.

  James grabbed a bottle of beer. It wouldn’t hurt to have one before he started his plan.

  He twisted the top off and raised it in a toast. Cheers to me and all the assholes I’m about to take down.

  Shay sat on the edge of the bed as she waited for Alison to emerge from her morning shower. They hadn’t talked much about Brownstone the night before, and now she was considering lying to the girl and claiming that he really wasn’t in that much danger despite what she might have heard on the news. It didn’t seem fair that Alison should have to worry about the bounty hunter, especially when there was nothing she could do to help him.

  The teen emerged from the bathroom in a robe, her hair still wet.

  “Look, Alison,” Shay said. “I think I should be a little more honest about what’s going on with Brownstone. I kind of gave you a line about what was going on, but that’s not really the whole truth. I thought about lying to protect you, but I think—”

  “You shouldn’t lie to me,” Alison told her, tilting her head.

  Shay held up a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Lying’s bad and all that. Like I said, I thought about it, but I decided against it. After everything you’ve gone through, you deserve to know when bad things are happening so you can figure out how you want to deal with them your own way.”

  The girl shook her head. “No, you don’t understand, Aunt Shay. You shouldn’t lie to me because I’ve learned a few things...and well, I can tell
when people are lying to me now. Most of the time, anyway. I knew last night that you were holding something back, and I hoped you’d tell me the truth eventually.”

  Shay blinked. “You can tell when people are lying? That’s...handy. That’s very handy.”

  Alison smiled and sat beside Shay. “I’m glad you decided to treat me like an adult, though. I kind of figured James was in more trouble anyway, just because you’re here and all.” She sighed. “I’ve been trying to not pay attention to anything negative going on in LA. It’s kind of easy here. We’re like in our own world, but I still worry about James.”

  “I don’t know if it’s possible for Brownstone to ever not be in trouble, but this is kind of bigger than normal.” Shay stood and started pacing. “Look, the truth is that there’s no gang war going on in LA. That’s just a line the police are feeding people so they can look like they have control of the situation. The truth is, there are a lot of people looking to kill Brownstone right now.” She winced. “More than the quantity he normally pisses off.”

  “Why are so many people trying to kill James? I mean, why more than normal?”

  Shay looked away, the urge to lie rising again. Dealing with a teen who could see into a person’s soul was damned inconvenient. A few lies here and there weren’t a big deal as far as Shay was concerned. They could help a person slide through life with less pain.

  “When Brownstone dealt with the Harriken before,” Shay began, “they apparently didn’t learn their lesson. Instead of becoming afraid, they got even more pissed off.”

  “So much death and hurt, and they still aren’t satisfied?” Alison looked down and shook her head. “It wasn’t enough that they hurt my mom and got punished?”

  “Some people just have thick skulls. The Harriken have placed a price on James’ head; a big price, to get a lot of killers after him. Dumb killers, sure. After all, they are going after Brownstone. But these are still professional killers, and Brownstone is now lying low and trying to figure out a way to...resolve the problem.”

  Alison looked at Shay, her eyes unfocused as usual, but the weight of her gaze still as heavy as any sighted person’s stare. “By ‘resolving the problem’ you mean he’s going to...kill them all, right?”

  Shay sighed. “Not necessarily. A lot of that is up to the men chasing him. You have to understand…Brownstone doesn’t pick fights with people unless it involves bounties or personal stuff.”

  “What about me? I mean, there was no bounty on the Harriken when he helped me.”

  “You helped him find his dog, so it became personal. After that, well, it got even more personal.”

  Alison wiped a few tears from her eyes. “Do you think this is my fault?”

  “No, Alison, not at all. Some bad guys did some sh— Stuff they shouldn’t have and they got punished, and now more bad guys didn’t learn their lesson. The Harriken had a lot of chances to walk away from all of this, even before Brownstone went and...uh, resolved some problems he had with them.” Shay ran a hand through her hair. “Anyway, the point is that if some dumbass wants to come after him, that’s on them. He’s not gonna go out of his way to kill them, but he’s not going to restrain himself either. That’s just for the hired guns. The Harriken have made this way too personal, and I don’t think he’s gonna stop until they’re eradicated.”

  Alison let out a quiet sigh. “From LA?”

  Shay shook her head. “Don’t be surprised if Brownstone decides to extend his reach a little.”

  The teen’s lips pursed and a dark expression settled over her face.

  “Are you okay?” Shay asked.

  Alison nodded. “I’m just...tired of people hurting the people I love. I’ll admit that I don’t like feeling this way, but I’m experiencing an overwhelming urge to hurt people.”

  Shay sat down next to Alison and pulled her into an embrace. “Don’t worry, Alison. We’re gonna make sure you never have to.”

  16

  Rays of sunlight broke through the darkened clouds as James continued trudging south through the hills and wet grasslands. He’d made good progress, and the clearing weather couldn’t have happened at a better time.

  Maybe I’m luckier than you think, Professor. This plan will work, and it’ll be fucking funny to see those bastards’ faces when they realize what I’ve done, even if I hate this shit for being so complicated. Fucking Harriken.

  The sky had stopped pouring rain about an hour prior. James was thoroughly soaked and chilled, but more important than warming up was getting the attention of the authorities or the men tracking him. Either would work.

  Like an iguana desperate for warmth, James found a tall outcropping and climbed it. When he got to the top he removed his hat. People needed to see his face for the next part of his plan to work.

  I knew I kept a flare gun in my go-case for some reason.

  The bounty hunter fished around in his backpack until he found the flare gun and shot a red flare into the sky. Then he settled in to munch on a rib.

  Still good, even cold.

  Several minutes passed, but nothing happened.

  “Come on, guys. Don’t do this to me. This is why I hate plans with a bunch of parts.”

  James loaded the gun again and sent off another flare. For good measure he repeated his actions thirty seconds later, leaving him with only a single flare.

  Maybe I’m too far south, or not south enough. Guess I’ll hang onto the last one. Don’t want to have to start a fire to get attention, even if it is wet. Not gonna burn down half of Southern California just to save my sorry ass.

  The bounty hunter replaced the flare gun in his pack and returned his attention to the ribs and a bottle of water.

  After about five minutes, movement in the sky caught James’ attention. He grinned and stood to wait. A dark form closed on him and the size and flashing red and blue lights identified it as a police drone even before he was able to see its shape in detail.

  “Attention, citizen,” a voice said from a speaker on the bottom of the drone. “This is the Rancho Santa Margarita Police Department. Your location has been noted, and we are preparing to dispatch a rescue team. Please remain where you are.”

  James waved at the drone and grabbed his phone to place a call to the Rancho Santa Margarita Police Department directly rather than 9-1-1. It was important that people see him, not just that he called his position in. The bait had to be strong and tasty to land the fish he wanted.

  “Rancho Santa Margarita Police Department, how may I direct your call?” a chipper woman answered.

  “Right now your people have a drone hovering above me in the hills southeast of Coto de Caza,” James began. “I launched flares, but you don’t need to send a rescue team. My name is James Brownstone, and I’m just going for a hike.”

  “Sir, I think—”

  James hung up before she could get anything else out. He finished up a rib and tossed the bone on the ground.

  Grinning, he stretched and hopped off the rock to continue hiking south.

  Game on, bitches.

  Larry liked his job as a security guard for Coto de Caza, even if a lot of the residents acted so arrogant. The pay was nice, and he didn’t have to do much besides sit in the gatehouse all day. When some panicky trophy wife saw something in the bushes the police handled the situation; his involvement was limited to calling them. It was the easiest job he’d ever had, and on most days it wasn’t stressful at all.

  Mainly because he’d never had to stare down the barrel of a gun before.

  Larry swallowed and kept his hands above his head. At least he hadn’t wet himself. “Look, uh...you don’t have to do this. I don’t have any money in here...or anything worth stealing.”

  Two men with shaved heads and teardrop tattoos below their eyes sat in a black Corvette. The passenger had a gun aimed at Larry.

  “I have two simple questions for you, pal,” the passenger said. “If you answer them right you get to live. If you answer them wrong y
ou get to die. Understand?”

  Larry gave a quick nod.

  The man shook his head. “Say it.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  The gunman nodded and a grin appeared on his face as if he were savoring the fear. “First question: can you open the gate?”

  “Uh, yes. Should I?” Larry kept his hands up, worried that a sudden move would end with him being shot.

  “No, not yet. Second question: did some ugly fucker come through here earlier? He’d have like weird birthmarks on his face, tattoos, weird ridges, driving some shithole Humvee. James Brownstone?”

  Larry frowned. “I knew that guy didn’t belong here. Business meeting, my ass. But he said his name was Thomas McCartney, not James Brownstone.”

  The man with the gun grinned widely, revealing a bright gold tooth, and looked at the driver. “Check that shit out! Brownstone running around with a fake name. That means he’s fucking scared, bro.”

  The driver gave a nod. “Little bitch.”

  The gunman looked back at Larry. “That answers my questions. Look, we’ve got no beef with anyone in your little fenced-off wonderland. We bag Brownstone, we make a lot more money than we could get from whatever bullshit you got here.” He tapped the gun on the door. “We’re here to do you a favor.”

  “A favor?”

  “Yeah. A piece of garbage got through and we’re the garbage collectors, so you’re gonna let us through and we’ll go take care of it. Understand? But if we hear any sirens, we’re gonna come back here and start shooting. Understand?”

  “I understand.” Larry swallowed and nodded. He lowered his arm and pressed the button. The gate rumbled open, and he held his breath while he waited to see if he would survive.

  “Little piece of advice there, pal,” the man with the gun said. “I’d tell everyone in the community to stay inside for a while.” He winked. “I’m a pro, though. I try not to kill anyone I don’t get paid for. Not worth the cost of the bullets.” He nodded at the driver. “Let’s do this, bro.”