The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe this ain’t the best time to chat.”

  Zoe laughed. “Why? Because I’m drunk?” She winked. “Oh, I’m drunk most of the time, my little supernova. You’ll have to get used to that.”

  Trey chuckled. “Supernova? I like the sound of that.”

  She pulled the door farther open with a merry smile and nodded inside. “Please join me.”

  He stepped inside, careful to avoid any of the pots on the ground or the hanging pots above. As with every other time he’d been there, the plants covered the range from the normal and green to the moving and glowing.

  Zoe closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, part of her robe slipping off and revealing one of her shoulders. She licked her lips. “I’m glad you came back.”

  Trey tried to avoid a frown, but he couldn’t resist crossing his arms. “Oh?”

  Is she just playing me now?

  “Yes. I’ve been busy with orders, but I’ve found myself thinking back again and again to my time with you.” She shuddered, her eyes half-closed. “I wish I could explain how fantastic it was.”

  Trey grinned and shrugged. “You know, maybe I’m just like the Mozart of fucking.”

  Zoe giggled, lifting her hand to her face. “Perhaps. I will admit that part was satisfying, but you are a man of unusually potent energy.” She took in and let out a few deep breaths. “And a witch could get addicted to both aspects of that.” She leaned forward. “Even though I should know better than to toy with anyone in the orbit of James Brownstone.”

  Trey frowned. He wanted to be with Zoe, but he wouldn’t spend time with any woman who disrespected James. The man had done so much for Trey, and as with Shorty, he would never let himself forget.

  “What do you have against the big man? I mean, you sell him potions and shit.”

  She waved a hand. “No, no, no. You misunderstand. James isn’t a man I’d count as an enemy. He’s just very dangerous, and by extension everyone around him is dangerous.” She took a shuddering breath and swallowed. “I won’t lie. I do want you, Trey. I tell myself you live a dangerous life, and he’ll drag you into a more dangerous life, but I also know that you aren’t the raging inferno he is. I could experience glories both magical and sexual with you…and not be destroyed.”

  Trey chuckled. “That’s the weirdest fucking come-on line I’ve ever heard.” He shrugged. “But I’m not gonna sit here and lie. You’re damn fine, and shit, I can’t get you out of my fucking head, but I also am kind of sensing here that you’re not used to settling down with one man.”

  Zoe barked a laugh. “A proper Dionysian revel is a glorious carnival of the basest pleasures. No, I’m not one who usually confines myself to a single man, or woman for that matter.”

  “Damn.” Trey shrugged. “That’s a fuckload of competition. I ain’t saying I can play like that, Zoe. This shit is serious to me.” He scrunched his forehead. “Well, shit’s serious to you, too, but it’s special to me, you know what I’m saying? If I’m gonna be with you, I need to know you’re not fucking everyone in sight. If that’s too much for you, no harm, no foul. We all got to do what we got to do. I’m just telling you what I can handle.”

  She sighed. “I will admit most of my magical energy comes more from the drinking than sex. It’d be a…difficult adjustment. I’ve also lived this way for a long time.”

  Trey stared at her. “How long we talking? You don’t look so old.”

  Zoe gave him a coy smile. “I was friends with Mata Hari. Now there was a woman who knew how to party.”

  “Damn.” Trey blinked several times after doing a few quick calculations in his head. At the minimum, she was over a hundred years old, but she looked like she was in her mid-twenties.

  Talk about a GILF, but damn, she’s hotter than fuck. She’s cradle-robbing with me. Still, she talks about getting addicted to me, and I think I’m already addicted to her, but I need to play this shit cool. She’s hot, way older than me, and magical. Talk about having all the power in the relationship.

  Trey cleared his throat, looking her up and down, his gaze lingering on an exposed thigh. She sure knew how to work a white silk robe.

  “You would look damn good even if you were like a quarter of how old I think you are.”

  Zoe sashayed forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, licking her lips. “You’re special, I think. Worth the sacrifice.”

  He grinned. “Not gonna argue with the expert.”

  “A challenge, then.” Her breath hitched, and Trey found himself transfixed by the rise and fall of her exposed cleavage. “Satisfy me enough to prove I need no one else. Break me, and then I’ll consider being exclusive to you. I’ll even make this easy. I’ll deny myself others in the meantime to give you a chance to prove that it’s worth it.”

  Trey leaned forward, his lips almost brushing hers. “Challenge accepted.”

  5

  James stepped out of Phillips Bar-B-Que, still gnawing on a rib, a plastic bag filled with more protein goodness for later at home and tomorrow. His mind and heart were at ease, the beast soothed by massive amounts of sauced meat.

  Don’t know why Shay doesn’t get that this is the best shit people ever created. Better than fucking penicillin, even.

  He grunted. Maybe not that, but at least a close second.

  His hair stood up on the back of his head, and a loud buzz sounded from behind him. James turned around.

  A swirling portal appeared, tinged red at the edges. Four men in slacks and dark shirts stepped through, all holding wands at their sides. The portal winked shut behind them.

  Wizards? I hope they’re just hungry.

  James took a final bite of his rib and let it fall into his bag. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The wizards all whipped their wands up and chanted in unison in a language he didn’t understand.

  Lacking bonding to Whispy Doom, James wasn’t cocky enough to think he could take a direct hit from four wizards. He leapt to the side as four firebolts screamed past him and smashed into the wall, exploding, and showering the parking lot with drywall, wood, and bits of metal. He kept running until he could duck behind a huge dumpster at the back of the parking lot.

  Several people screamed inside and ran toward the back, but no one looked hurt yet.

  The owner stared at the wall from behind the counter, his eyes wide.

  Those fuckers. Why did they have to get an innocent barbeque restaurant involved in this?

  “If you’re gonna fucking try to kill me,” James shouted, “you should at least tell me who you are.” He jumped again as a fireball appeared and flew toward him.

  His bag of ribs slipped out of his hand to be charred beyond deliciousness by a direct hit from a fireball.

  James growled. These assholes were really starting to get on his nerves. He whipped out his .45. It didn’t matter if they had bounties or not, now that he was solidly in self-defense territory.

  He spun around the corner and opened fire. A wizard’s head exploded and another jerked back, blood spraying his neck. James’ bullets intended for the third and fourth man melted into vapor several inches away from the targets. James kept firing, but the wizards’ shields kept them alive.

  The bounty hunter returned to cover in time to avoid another firebolt, but a second aerial fireball landed right next to him and exploded. He hissed at the ache on his burned side. The smell of charred cotton and flesh filled his nostrils.

  The amulet rested comfortably against his chest but remained separated by the metal spacer. If he pulled it off he could begin bonding with it, but he’d be vulnerable for several seconds, and he wasn’t sure if he could take a direct hit during the process.

  As if the wizards could read his thoughts, they sent two fireballs at him. He rolled back, the motion rubbing his wounded side against the ground, and growled.

  No. There wouldn’t be enough time to bond with Whispy Doom while the assholes were on him. He had rounds left i
n his magazine, but he would have to go for the backup gear he kept in his truck.

  Can’t risk those fuckers hurting the F-350. I don’t know how long my mechanic can keep fixing it if I get it blown up again.

  James waited a few seconds for more fireballs to appear and sprinted around the corner. This time he took two measured, slow shots at the wizards. The bullets didn’t pierce their defenses any better than the quick shots. Keeping himself moving, he fired a couple more times.

  The wizards’ faces twitched with each shot.

  They probably can’t shoot back when I’m firing at them, which means they might be vulnerable when they take a shot.

  By his count, seven shots remained in his magazine. He eyed his truck for a brief second, his heart pounding. The fuckers had already burned his ribs, damaged one of his favorite barbeque restaurants, and now even his beloved truck might be harmed.

  Assholes. I will fucking end you. I was fucking trying to relax!

  Loud sirens sang in the distance, obviously closing.

  He didn’t care about waiting for the cops. The wizard assholes had tried to kill him, and now they were going to pay for it.

  James rushed down the parking lot, looking over his shoulder and waiting. One of the wizards launched a firebolt, and he returned fire almost instantly. His enemy fell with a scream, but the fire magic slammed into James’ shoulder, sending him spiraling to the ground with a grunt and charred flesh.

  He shoved himself to the side as he hit the ground. His instincts served him well when a fireball slammed right into where he’d been just a second before.

  With a loud growl, he hopped to his feet and opened up with his gun, letting loose three quick shots. The bullets melted, as before, but didn’t vaporize. Instead, they became glowing super-hot lead, a shotgun blast of molten metal to the face, neck, and chest of the wizard.

  The wizard howled in pain and fell to the ground. His wand dropped out of his hand and rolled away.

  James growled and stomped forward, the agony in his shoulder and side building. He kept moving forward until he was a couple of yards away, raised his gun, and emptied the last few rounds into the screaming wizard until the man stopped moving.

  He holstered his weapon and pulled a healing potion out of what remained of his jacket, then fell to his knees and downed the potion. His poor clothes remained charred and full of holes, but his burns healed quickly and the pain vanished.

  James looked at the bodies. He didn’t recognize any of them, and he never forgot a face. They weren’t in any sort of uniform.

  Three huge drones with flashing red and white lights zoomed into the area.

  “This is the LAPD,” announced a voice over a loudspeaker in one of the drones. “Put your hands on your head.”

  James shook his head and complied. He didn’t have time to piss the cops off.

  Ten minutes later, AET Sergeant Weber stood in front of James in full armor with his helmet off. “And you have no idea who might have wanted to kill you?”

  The minute the AET showed up and realized it was Brownstone they stood down, but now the entire area was filled with cops, CSIs, and firefighters inspecting the damage to the restaurant.

  James shrugged. “Nope. They didn’t say shit, and I killed them all before I could ask any questions. They were wizards.”

  Sergeant Weber groaned. “That doesn’t really narrow it down. Can you give us a list of possible suspects?”

  “Sure, but it’d be a pretty damned long list. I’ve taken down a lot of wizards over the last few years.”

  The cop nodded and nodded to the bodies. “No one else got hurt except them. It’s a miracle.”

  James pointed to the restaurant. “They fucked that place up.”

  “Yeah, but at least all the customers and the employees are all right.” Sergeant Weber shook his head. “You sure there’s not some new contract on you? Like with the Harriken?”

  James shrugged. “Don’t know. Not that I’ve heard. Fuck, you know how I work. If I knew assholes were after me, I wouldn’t be going where anyone other than assholes could be hurt.”

  The cop nodded. “Let us know if anything comes up, not that you can’t handle this kind of thing yourself. Anyway, I’ve got to go check on some things.”

  James gave him a nod, and Sergeant Weber wandered off.

  The owner of Phillips Bar-B-Que sat on the curb in front of his restaurant, his head in his hands.

  James marched over to him. “You okay?”

  The man looked up. “I already called my insurance company. They said because it’s magical damage, they don’t have to pay. I don’t have the right kind of insurance. They’re not even going to send an adjuster out.”

  “Fuckers.” James shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for all the repairs. Shit, if you want to throw in a remodel, I’ll pay for that, too.”

  The owner blinked several times. “What? You serious?”

  “Damn right, I’m serious. These fuckers were after me, and there’s no way I’m gonna let a barbeque place go under because it got caught in the crossfire. It’s the least I can do.”

  “I...” The owner took a deep breath. “I’m not going to say no, but it’s going to be pretty expensive.”

  James shrugged. “Big fucking deal. Just give me the estimate, and I’ll get the money.”

  He resisted the urge to point out he probably spent more on one anti-magic deflector than the entire building cost—although at least with the deflectors, as long as they weren’t destroyed they could regain their power.

  A weary smile appeared on the owner’s face. “Remodel too, huh? Don’t like the old décor?”

  James grunted. “Just saying, you haven’t changed it in a long time.”

  He looked at the bodies. Police camera drones were floating around taking pictures at different angles. He was glad the wizards were dead.

  Few things in life are unforgivable: fucking with his family, fucking with his friends, and fucking with his barbeque.

  Hours later, James sighed as he leaned back on his couch. He wondered if he should tell Shay that someone was trying to kill him—again. If he did, she’d freak out and rush back from her tomb raid. He didn’t need a babysitter, but he wasn’t sure if the situation fell under what his relationship podcasts described as “maintaining open and honest channels of communication.”

  No reason to call her right away. The wizards are dead, and no one has shown up at my house. They might have been it.

  Find enemies. Kill them. Grow stronger.

  James grunted. He’d bonded with Whispy just to be prepared, but he didn’t know how long he could actually take the damn thing whispering in his mind and making demands. It wasn’t like he could wear it twenty-four/seven. Sometimes the amulet would keep quiet on the way to a mission, but obviously, he didn’t like sitting around doing nothing.

  Shut the fuck up. If you want me to find the enemy, there are some people I need to talk to first.

  The amulet didn’t respond.

  The police had already called him to tell him they had no good leads. The victims’ DNA couldn’t be matched to any public database, nor could their fingerprints or faces. It was hard for people to be totally hidden from the system, but when magic was involved it wasn’t as surprising.

  If the police couldn’t help him, he would have to use his own resources. If the men weren’t in databases, that would limit Heather’s ability to help him—or Peyton’s for that matter, but he also would prefer to ask for help from someone who wouldn’t immediately leak it to Shay. He did plan to tell her, just when the time was right.

  Okay, I’ll get Heather going and bring in some reinforcements.

  James did know one man with connections to the underworld, both mundane and magical, who might be able to find out who was after him as long as he was paid.

  Taking a deep breath, James picked up the phone and dialed Tyler.

  The information broker answered after the second ring. “Is whatev
er you’re about to ask going to make me money?”

  James grunted. “This shit is straightforward. Just need information, and I’ll pay for it. Someone tried to kill me a few hours ago. I killed them before I could find out why or who.”

  Tyler laughed. “Yeah, I heard about that, but I figured if you ever go out, it’s not going to be in the parking lot of some barbeque place.” He paused for a few beats. “Huh. Then again, maybe that would make perfect sense.”

  “Whatever. Just fucking find out who.”

  “This is going to cost you.” Tyler chuckled. “And if you want it fast, I’m going to have to tack on some sort of premium service fee.”

  “Just fucking find out. The sooner, the better.”

  James frowned. Maybe the whole thing was a waste of time. The four wizards might have been the only ones left in whatever conspiracy to assassinate him.

  Tyler let out a breath. “Hey, while I’ve got you on the phone, I’ve got a few questions.”

  “Is this shit gonna take long?”

  “What? You got something better to do? You just admitted you don’t even know who to go after, so it sounds like you need me more than I need you.” Tyler chuckled.

  James grunted. “Just fucking ask already.”

  “You ever thought about building up your agency more? I mean you’ve got Trey and his guys, but you’ve also got a nice reputation now. You guys won against the Council when other top bounty hunters couldn’t pull it off so it might be a good time to expand beyond just ex-gangbangers.”

  James frowned. “Trey and his boys are good bounty hunters. It doesn’t mean shit that they used to be in a gang.”

  “Not saying that. Just saying you could pick up some quality people right now, and you should think about the future. Trust me. I know a thing or two about expanding a business.”

  James furrowed his brow, suspicion flowing through him. Why did Tyler care so much about Brownstone Agency’s staffing?

  He was about to ask when something very different came out, “Shit. We don’t always have enough men to handle every job. The higher-end bounties are avoiding LA, but it’s almost like there are more lower-end bounties now.”