James leaned forward. “My old house got blown up, if you hadn’t fucking heard, but I’m guessing you did because your boys came to rob me. Point is, I lost a lot of stuff, so I value what I have. But I’m feeling generous, and I’m trying to be more peaceful, if only to give my parish priest less heartburn. So get your asses up. I’m gonna call the cops, and they are gonna arrest your asses and drive you to jail.” He glared. “Or we can go for Round Two and you can see who is still alive at the end.”
Fear, not arrogance, ruled their faces now.
“Fuck, Brownstone. We’ll go. We’ll go. Just don’t kill us. We surrender and all that shit.”
“If I hear about you coming near Trey or his grandmother again I will fucking end you. You understand me?”
“Yeah, bi…yeah, we understand, sir.”
James shook his head.
Fuck, I can’t go anywhere without trouble following me. I bet Shay doesn’t have to deal with this shit.
The Light Elf sighed after he finished his briefing for the Drow. “And that is just what this Brownstone did to the Harriken for killing his dog and threatening his family.” He shook his head. “If you’re right and this half-Drow girl he is protecting is in fact a princess, I would recommend avoiding any blunt options such as kidnapping.”
Laena narrowed her eyes. “We didn’t say anything about kidnapping her.”
The Light Elf shrugged. “There are no humans here. We don’t have to maintain a false front about Oriceran unity. You’re Drow. I know all too well that many of your solutions lack elegance.”
The Drow’s mouth curled up in a sinister smile. “Do you now, Light Elf?”
“Yes. So think of something better. Maybe negotiate? Don’t go looking for trouble with this man—you might not be able to deal with it, and you’ll exacerbate local tensions.”
Laena snorted. “So be it. We have time. We only care that she’s safe. But we will be watching. Don’t worry about your precious local relationships.”
The Light Elf gave her a polite nod. “Thank you for your understanding.” He headed back out the door.
The Drow rose, nodding to a woman across the table. “You’ll handle this. Find him, please him, free him, or kill him. I don’t care what method you use, but we’re not going to wait around because everyone’s afraid of some human who can use a few artifacts. Be cautious and minimize the attention you draw, though. We want to avoid trouble with the local authorities, human or Oriceran. It’ll only make it harder to find the princess.”
The other Drow smiled, then her body shimmered for a moment and her appearance changed. The thin, athletic body of the ebony-skinned and white-haired Drow was replaced by a luscious and voluptuous pale blonde in a low-cut red dress.
“Don’t worry,” the disguised Drow assured Laena. “It’s been some time since I’ve had a chance to test my skills. This will be most enjoyable.”
Laena nodded, wondering if she’d made a mistake. Removing the Widowmaker’s leash might cause some diplomatic trouble down the line, but such a price would be a trifle if they could recover the new Princess of the Shadow Forged and her wish.
A few minutes later, the Light Elf watched from down the hallway as four Drow and a blonde woman stepped out of the consulate’s foyer. He was insulted that they hadn’t pretended to care for at least a few more minutes.
He shook his head. “Drow never listen.”
2
James nodded as he took in his almost completed house. A few issues with the plumbing and electrical contractors had slowed things, but the new two-story home would be ready for Alison’s return.
“Yeah, this will do. She’ll like it.”
Trey cleared his throat from behind the bounty hunter. “My nana wanted to go outside and beat those motherfuckers down, you know. She was all bitchin’ about them fools makin’ noise and how this used to be a nice neighborhood and that.”
James grunted. “Sorry. I didn’t pull my gun right away, so I hoped they wouldn’t. I was wrong.” He shrugged. “Dumbasses got what was coming to them.”
“Nah, it’s all good. You had my back. Shit, you had Nana’s back too, and the whole neighborhood’s. She ain’t mad at you. She’s mad at those fools for causin’ a ruckus.”
“You had my back when I was out of the country, Trey. You stopped those guys, and for that matter, it’s amazing how many upgraded supplies mysteriously appeared on the construction site.” James grinned. “I’m gonna do both of us a favor and not ask where they came from.”
Trey shrugged. “All that magic and shit, you know. Maybe it’s some Keebler Elves doing it, you know what I’m sayin’? And fuck the Demon Generals. They are bitches anyway, even in their own territory. I remember hearin’ about them losing a bunch of guys in an alley a while back. Nobody knows what the fuck happened to this day. They just be yowlin’ to make people think they badass, you ask me.”
“Father McCartney would say something about living by the sword, dying by the sword.”
Trey laughed. “That’s why you bring a gun, motherfucker. Ain’t you ever seen Raiders of the Lost Ark?”
James chuckled, remembering a few other times where the gang leader had mentioned a classic movie. His grandmother was ninety-two. Maybe she was the reason.
Trey’s phone rang and the gang leader pulled it out. “Shit. I gotta take this. Give me a sec.” He stepped toward his truck, the F-350 he’d purchased after admiring James’ for so long.
The bounty hunter was never going to complain about someone appreciating a quality classic vehicle.
With his friend on the phone, James figured it’d be as good a time as any to catch up on his emails. He started searching through the queue for anything of interest.
DO YOU WANT TO COOK OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD-BARBEQUE LIKE NADINA? BUY YOUR TICKET NOW!
James selected the email. A photogenic picture of the first Elf winner of Barbeque Wars: The Next Generation greeted him along with her “Oriceran Fusion Barbeque Tour” schedule. He saved the message for later and continued searching.
The heavy level of barbeque-related spam always made checking his mail an adventure. He should unsubscribe to at least half of the site feeds and mailing lists, but he didn’t want to take the chance he might miss out on important barbeque-related news.
He spotted a message from the lawyer handling Alison’s adoption and opened it.
“Damn.”
James had hoped to have the adoption wrapped up as quickly as possible, but residual legal issues, including confusion about her mother’s whereabouts and some concerns over the man adopting her being the same man who killed her father.
The lawyer didn’t have huge worries, but James had hoped to have everything ready at the start of summer break and it might take longer than that. It shouldn’t be a huge deal as long as it still happened during the summer.
James sighed and continued checking his messages. One from Sergeant Mack caught his eye.
The police wanted him to bring in a level-one bounty. The bounty might roll on someone else important in local organized crime.
James stared at the email with a frown. He wanted to help his friend and temporary landlord, but he didn’t have time to go after every low-level piece of shit in a city like Los Angeles.
“A bunch of dumbass knucklehead fucking morons,” Trey mumbled as he stepped back toward James. “If I wasn’t around they wouldn’t be able to find their own asses.” He shook his head. “Sorry about that.”
James glanced between Trey and his phone several times. “Gang shit?”
“Yeah, gang shit. But, you know, you’ve got to get up and make the motherfucking donuts every day to get paid, right? So fuck them bitches.”
“What if you had another option to make money?”
“Huh? What other option? I ain’t much for standing there with a smile while some fucker spits in my face because I forgot his extra fucking ketchup. I’d punch his ass out.”
James shook his head. “I had something e
lse in my mind, though it might still involve punching people.”
“Like what?”
“You work for me.”
Trey stared at James with disbelief plastered all over his face. “Doing what? Guarding your shit full-time?”
“No. You’re street-smart, and you understand when to get rough and when not to.” James shrugged. “Look, you know me and you know my rep. I’m a class-six bounty hunter. Normally I don’t even get out of bed if we’re talking under level three, sometimes even level four. I try to keep my life simple.” He let out a long breath. “And I try to keep on good terms with the cops, even if a lot of them don’t like me.”
“Fuck the 5-0.”
“Nah, most of them are good.”
“Yeah, maybe. That Sergeant Mack is all right. I’ll admit that.”
“They’re asking me for more and more favors, shit like tracking down lower-level bounties.”
Trey rubbed his chin. “And you need some like motherfucking sidekicks to go in there and take down bitches who can’t set themselves on fire or raise the dead and shit like that? Just normal motherfuckers?”
“Exactly.”
The gang leader glanced around for a moment as if to confirm no one else was listening. He leaned in and spoke in a low voice.
“Yeah, I’m interested, Mr. Brownstone,” Trey replied, his voice different in tone, rhythm, and inflection. “My Nana has never been happy with me running a gang. Blames herself for me being a criminal. She wants me to live clean…or at least cleaner, you know?”
James chuckled at the sudden change in speech pattern. Maybe Trey wanted to convince him that he could function in different social environments.
It was working. If anything, the man already demonstrated he could modulate himself better than James could.
“Being a bounty hunter is still a rough job,” James cautioned, “but I don’t take down people who don’t have it coming. You’ll be helping get scum off the street.”
“Hell, I guess you’re a bad influence.” Trey’s gaze flicked to his truck. “Maybe a good influence. I don’t know. But, yeah, I’m down with it.” His face lit up. “Can I wear a suit? I look badass in a suit, but I don’t ever have a reason to wear one with my boys.”
“I don’t, but sure. Knock yourself out.” He furrowed his brow. “I’m gonna have to do some paperwork, set up something. I guess we can call it ‘the Brownstone Agency.’” He nodded, satisfied with the name. “And I think we should incorporate the gang somehow. Just need to think about how to best do that.”
“Huh?”
“Look, I get it. The gang’s about protection and being in control, but I’m saying I can provide good-paying work, maybe in shit like information collection, so none of your boys are doing anything that might get the cops on them. And as far as the neighborhood being protected, I still fucking live here, so my reputation will help keep it safe. Every time someone like the Demon Generals show up and cause trouble I’ll handle it, and that means fewer people will come. Hell, they were the first ones in a while to try something.”
Trey nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If you say so, Mr. Brownstone. I’ll have to talk with my boys and see what they think.”
“It’s okay. I’m still figuring out the details.”
James shifted his attention from Trey to the house. He wasn’t sure if starting a bounty hunting agency and involving a number of gang members would fall under his KISS philosophy of life in the short-term, but was confident that in the long run everyone would be better off—including the neighborhood and the cops.
One man—even one man with a strange alien amulet—couldn’t keep a city like Los Angeles under control.
Is that what this is about? Shay has me mostly convinced I’m some kind of alien, so I want to dig my little tentacles deeper into the city to prove I’m human?
James grunted. He didn’t fucking know about that, but he knew he liked the sound of the Brownstone Agency.
Tyler smiled to himself as he finished pouring a mojito and set it in front of a tired-looking older man at the bar. He surveyed the room, which was filled with customers, here for both the drinks and the information. He almost wanted to laugh at how things had changed in such a short time.
Not that many months ago he’d have been lucky to have a dozen customers at any given time. He made decent money as an information broker, but the stench of failure had hung over the cracked and worn furniture and walls of the Black Sun.
Now everything had been remodeled, including his attitude. There were often a few cops in the bar, unofficially enforcing the place’s status as a neutral ground. People felt comfortable drinking there, which meant he made more money, and once they got a few drinks in them, they might even buy some information.
Tyler’s smile faded and his hands clenched into fists. His success had come at a price; a big price. He’d helped make James Brownstone a lot of money. The fucking smug bounty hunter’d had the balls to place bets on his own life.
A good businessman never passes up an opportunity for profit, so Tyler hadn’t, but that didn’t wash out the lingering distaste over helping Brownstone profit.
Fuck you, Brownstone. I’ve got everything I need now, plus the cops helping me out. I know AET hates your ass, and someday you’re going to die and I’ll still have the Black Sun.
“Everything all right, Tyler?” asked an attractive brunette on the other end of the bar; his new assistant, Kathy.
“It’s fine. Just thinking over some shi—”
The din of conversation in the bar hushed as everyone looked toward the front door. Only the blare of the game from the television kept silence at bay.
A mouth-watering blonde in a tight red dress sauntered through the door with a coy smile. Her heels were so high they were probably illegal under some obscure California law.
Tyler swallowed. The woman was easily the most beautiful ever to set foot in the Black Sun.
The crowd parted before her. Whispers restarted, followed by normal conversation. The blonde hopped atop a bar stool, placed one pale hand over the other, and beamed a seductive smile at Tyler.
“W-what can I get you?” the man managed to get out.
The blonde leaned in, giving him a nice view of her ample cleavage. “I’m less interested in a drink than a little information.” She winked.
Tyler tore his gaze from her breasts to stare into her crystal-blue eyes. “Information? I know a lot of things. I think you’d find what I can do with some of that information…surprising.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips. “Oh, I’m sure I would be. I know I’ve come to the right place.” She reached over and placed a soft hand on his. “And I’m sure you can help me.”
“What sort of information were you looking for?” Tyler managed to inject some suspicion into his voice despite the distracting body in front of him. He was supposed to be a damned professional, after all.
“Oh, it’s nothing serious, I can assure you. It’s just, I was looking for a man and he doesn’t seem to be at his old place. I’m not from around here, so I don’t know where to look.”
“I know a lot of people. Maybe I could point you to someone who knows this guy.”
“Excellent. His name is James Brownstone.”
Damn you, Brownstone!
Tyler slowly pulled his hand back and kept a fake smile on his face despite the rage threatening to make him combust. That asshole bounty hunter now had this supermodel-quality woman looking for him. Annoying. No, not just annoying. Unfair.
“Brownstone, huh?” the bartender mused. “Yeah, I can tell you exactly where to find him right now. I’ll even do it for free. Consider it a service for a beautiful woman.” He grinned.
The blonde clapped her hands and kept them together. “Wonderful. Where is he?”
“Last I heard, he’s at some sort of meeting with the cops in Laguna Beach. He’s supposed to be there for a couple of days. Don’t know much else. It was kind of a rumor thing t
o begin with.”
“I see. Thank you for your information.” The blonde rose, gave Tyler a final smile, and made her way to the exit.
Kathy finished pouring a beer for a man down the bar and walked toward Tyler. “Laguna Beach? Why did you tell her Brownstone’s in Laguna Beach, let alone having some sort of special meeting with the cops? I haven’t heard anything about that. I don’t remember the last time I heard about Brownstone going to Laguna Beach.”
“I’m doing her a favor by steering her away from that asshole. I’m hoping she’ll get frustrated enough to stop looking for Brownstone.”
Kathy snorted and turned away.
Tyler ignored her. She was smart enough to probably see through his excuse, but plausible deniability could get a man far in the world. It sure had helped him.
Two AET cops stepped inside and eyed the place. No one paid them any heed as they headed to the bar.
One of the cops stopped and glanced at a man in the corner. “Hey, Jackson!”
A huge man with a shaved head looked up from his beer. “What?”
“Don’t let me see you on the outside, man. We will have to grab your ass.”
The huge man stood. “Give our fine boys in blue two drinks on me, Kathy.”
The assistant bartender nodded and smiled and the cops faced her as she poured their drinks.
“I figure,” the cop began, “it’ll take at least ten minutes for us to finish these.”
Tyler nodded. “Thanks for keeping it neutral, gentlemen.”
3
James stepped into the bank. A long line of bored-looking customers snaked toward the single open teller while four empty stations mocked them. A couple of bankers sat behind their desks on the other side of the room, tapping away at computers.
Glad I don’t have to wait in that line.
He glanced up at a clock. He was a few minutes early for his appointment, and he wasn’t familiar with the protocol for this sort of meeting. Waiting seemed pointless when the person he was there to meet didn’t have any customers or even look that busy.
She Is The Widow Maker Page 2
