Hail To The King: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 8)

by Michael Anderle

  Tyler let out a long sigh and shrugged. “Okay, you got me. I was thinking I could record some of this shit. Before I was thinking about maybe getting AET on site for recording, but that might not be necessary if you’re picking the site. You could set up cameras. We record it and I sell it, you know, like pay-per-view. Basically, kind of like a fight promoter.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  “Hear me out, Brownstone. You’re a bounty hunter. You take down bounties. I’m not suggesting you do anything different than you normally do. The only difference is that it’d be easier because you’ll know where and when. I don’t want Drow fucks or demon witches busting up LA any more than you do. It’s just I want a slice of the action. Not too much to ask, you know?”

  James’ expression softened, and he scratched his eyelid. “If I do this, I’m getting a cut from the video profits, too.”

  “Sure, sure. The fighter always gets paid. I’ve got no problem with that.”

  James uncrossed his arms and settled into the chair. Even he had to admit that Tyler had a point. If he were going to be taking down bounties anyway, there was no reason not to earn a little extra money off it. The orphanage could always use more funding.

  The bounty hunter frowned. “You sure you’ll even be able to get anyone? It’s not like everyone is gonna show up and ask you for information.”

  “Sure, not everyone, but this place has a reputation as neutral ground now so I get a lot of people showing up who might not otherwise. It’s a simple matter of recognizing them and whispering the right thing.”

  “But won’t they catch on?”

  “To what? Brownstone kicking their asses? You’ve got a reputation for that already.” Tyler furrowed his brow. “We can’t always use the same location, though. Then they would catch on.”

  “Sure, but I’d like the first fight…bounty to be in the Salton Sea area. It’s annoying and dry there, but it’s also safe as fuck. Hell, even the AET will be happy because I’m not busting shit up.”

  Tyler chuckled. “Yeah, Maria’s a fan now with you allegedly saving the world and all.”

  “I wasn’t saving the world. I was saving my ass.”

  “Whatever. I think we’ve got a good plan. The Salton Sea, just need a four or higher. I’ll get some cameras so simple even you can set them up. The only problem with the Salton Sea is that if you’re that far out we won’t be able to get AET to you quick enough for video, so you’ll have to set everything up for filming. You can at least get a drone flying, right?”

  James grunted. “I’m not a fucking moron, Tyler.”

  “Sorry. Was just asking.” Tyler grinned. “Nah, this is going be great, Brownstone. We’ll make a shitload of money off this.”

  James nodded. If this were nothing more his normal bounty hunting with a little help from Tyler, what could possibly go wrong?

  9

  Trey and Shorty stepped into the narrow alley behind the club. Their latest bounty wasn’t conveniently staying in a hotel or apartment. With dozens if not hundreds of people inside the nightclub, the bounty hunters couldn’t charge in and risk bullets flying. Not only would innocent people get hurt, but the big man would kick their asses all the way to Mars for taking that kind of risk.

  Trey’s phone buzzed with a text from Deshawn.

  Yo, we got the front covered. Bitch ain’t come out yet.

  Carl followed up with a text a few seconds later.

  Manuel thought he saw him coming out the side door, but it ain’t him.

  “Fuck,” Trey muttered. “We need something better than just phones. It’s like we’re a bunch of teen girls going after a bounty.”

  Shorty eyed him. “What do you want, then?”

  “We need to go all Secret Service- or Special Forces-style, you know what I’m saying? If we’re doing this shit in teams, we need to be able to talk when shit goes down.”

  Shorty shrugged. “Talk to the big man, then. Shit, you want us in these suits and all that, might as well go all the way. Motherfuckers in suits with weird earpieces are a lot scarier than what we looked like before.”

  Trey laughed. “You never said that before.”

  “Didn’t think about it before. We look like we’re from the government and shit. What’s freakier than that?”

  Trey tugged on his suit jacket. “We’re from the Brownstone Agency and we’re here to help,” he intoned in a low voice.

  The back door swung open, and both men’s hands slipped inside their jackets and inched toward their guns.

  Two red-faced women in mini-dresses stumbled out, laughing and the bounty hunters lowered their hands. The woman giggled to each other, not even glancing Trey and Shorty’s way as they headed toward the street.

  Shorty whistled. “Maybe we should get their digits.”

  Trey snorted. “Bitch, we’re on a job. Pay attention.”

  “Just saying they had nice asses.”

  “And I’m just saying that if you let tits distract you, you’re gonna end up getting a bullet in your fucking head. Do you think Mr. Brownstone lets himself get distracted by that kind of shit?”

  Shorty shrugged and returned his attention to the back door.

  Does make me think. Fucking women is one thing, but maybe I should be looking for something permanent. Now that I got a stable career and shit.

  The back door flew open again, and a lanky bald man in a green leisure suit strolled out. It was their target, Jacob Johns.

  “Got you, you son of a bitch,” Trey murmured. “Get ready to move, Shorty.”

  A pale short-haired woman in a suit emerged right after. Despite her beautiful face, bright red lipstick, and striking red hair, Trey was more impressed with her suit. A layered combination of femininity and danger oozed from the woman.

  Suit Chick’s ankle-high boots clacked against the asphalt as she walked into the alley. She stopped, turning her head toward Trey and Shorty.

  “Shit, that’s Armani.” Trey sighed. “That’s way nicer than my suit. That just ain’t fair.”

  Johns stopped and looked their way, scowling. “Who the fuck are you, the IRS?”

  “Brownstone Agency,” Shorty announced. “Jacob Johns, we’re here to collect on your level-three bounty. Turn around and be a nice boy and we won’t have to get rough.”

  Johns snorted. “You’re not Brownstone. Why the fuck should I care?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Victoria, take care of them.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  Trey glared at him. Talk about a cocky son of a bitch.

  The woman stepped in front of the bounty, and her hand drifted inside her suit jacket.

  Trey and Shorty both yanked out their guns.

  “We got no problem with you,” Trey offered. “So don’t try nothing.”

  Victoria’s hand stopped moving but remained inside her jacket. “You really work for James Brownstone?”

  Shorty nodded. “Just walk away. I’m not down with hurting women.”

  “That’s pretty nice of you, but if you’re going be a bounty hunter, sometimes you’ll run into dangerous women.” She grinned. “Like me.”

  “Turn around,” Trey ordered. “Put your hands behind you. We’re gonna cuff you, and then we’re gonna take your boss in. I don’t know who you are, but if you ain’t got a bounty, you ain’t our business.”

  Johns snorted and continued to lounge against the wall. “Fucking morons.”

  Victoria shook her head. “Just to be clear, he’s not my boss. More like a client.”

  “So, what, you his bodyguard?”

  “Yes. For now.”

  Trey kept his gun trained on the woman, tension spreading through his body, and his heart rate kicking up. Every street instinct in him screamed that Victoria was way more dangerous than the level-three bounty resting against the wall without the faintest hint of giving a shit.

  He nodded at Johns. “This guy’s a serious fucker, you know. He and his boys were raiding medical supply t
rucks. Who the fuck does that?”

  Johns snorted. “Hey, I sold that shit. People got what they needed eventually.”

  “Tell that to the kids who died, you son of a bitch.”

  Victoria’s hand remained inside her jacket.

  Johns pushed off the wall. “Spare me, you bounty-hunter piece of shit. You’re no cop. You’re just some trash from the street who thinks if he puts on a suit and calls himself a bounty hunter that he’s better than me. You’re not better than me. I’m a businessman. You’re just a parasite.”

  “Shut your mouth, bitch,” Shorty yelled.

  “Keep it cool, Shorty,” Trey ordered. They couldn’t let Johns mess with them, especially when Victoria was ready to deliver a beat-down. A few seconds of distraction could be the difference between life and death.

  The woman had a good face and a slender build judging by her suit, so she wasn’t going to deliver a Brownstone-style beat-down. But it didn’t take a lot of strength to pull a trigger.

  Trey’s phone buzzed with a text, but he ignored it. His earlier instincts had been right. They needed to invest in better communications gear. If all six of the boys were gathered in the alley, Johns and Victoria would have already surrendered.

  Sun Tzu came to mind. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.

  Easy for you to say, bitch. You’ve been dead for twenty-five-hundred years.

  Johns pointed at Trey. “Kill that fucker. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”

  Victoria shook her head. “Not a hitman, Mr. Johns. I’m a bodyguard.”

  Shorty advanced toward Johns. “You don’t have your gun out, woman. You can’t win. Just turn around. You don’t have to go down for a piece of shit like Johns.”

  She offered Shorty a thin smile. “What if I told you I don’t even have a gun?”

  He snorted. “You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”

  “No, you bring a wand.”

  Oh, hell no.

  Victoria muttered something in a language Trey didn’t understand and her arm twisted. He pulled his trigger.

  A bright flash filled the alley, and Victoria stood there grinning. Bright glyphs covered her suit, and her eyes glowed bright red. She twirled a thin golden wand in her fingers.

  Trey and Shorty continued firing, but the bullets disappeared in flashes against her suit. The men both stopped after a few seconds, realizing the futility.

  “Fuck,” Trey muttered. “I thought this shit might happen one day, but not so soon.” He lowered his gun.

  Johns laughed. “Stupid pieces of shit. Fucking kill them already.”

  The witch shook her head. “No reason to.” She smiled at Trey. “What’s your name?”

  “Trey Garfield.”

  “Victoria Stone.” The witch bowed with an exaggerated flourish. “You can’t win, Mr. Garfield. There’s no point in trying.”

  “Having a small chance of winning ain’t the same thing as not being able to win, but, yeah, you’re a badass chick in a better suit. It’s a shame to put bullets in either that body or that suit.”

  Victoria laughed. “I do like a man with a good eye.”

  Shorty ejected his magazine and reloaded, muttering under his breath. Trey holstered his gun.

  The witch stopped twirling her wand. She pointed it to the side and made several quick movements. A pulsating glyph appeared in the air.

  “This Brownstone Agency? That means you work for James Brownstone, as in the Scourge of Harriken? The guy who took down the Red-Eyes Killer?”

  “Yeah. He’s the man at the head of everything.”

  Victoria’s gaze flicked to the glyph and back to Trey. “Tell your friend to put his gun away. If he does, you can both walk away from this.”

  Trey nodded at Shorty. “Put it away. Just wasting bullets.”

  Shorty gritted his teeth and holstered his weapon.

  Trey’s phone buzzed again, but he continued to ignore it.

  “Fucking kill them already,” Johns yelled. “What am I paying you for, bitch?”

  “To protect you,” Victoria offered, a cold look in her eyes. “I’m doing just that, Mr. Johns. Unnecessary death doesn’t help protect you.”

  Johns snorted. “Whatever.”

  “Call me a bitch again, and you’ll regret it.”

  “I’m paying you a shitload of money, so I’ll call you what I want, you stupid twat.”

  Victoria heaved a sigh and smiled at Trey. “One moment, Mr. Garfield.” She reached into a pocket with her free hand and fished out her phone. After a few quick taps, she slipped it back into her pocket. “I’ve refunded your money, Mr. Johns.”

  The man blinked. “Huh?”

  She turned toward the man, her face locked in a rigid smile. “I don’t work for men who don’t respect me. It’s also not worth making an enemy of James Brownstone for such a small amount, especially to protect an idiot like you.”

  “These assholes don’t work for Brownstone,” Johns yelled. “They are just saying that to scare you.”

  Victoria pointed toward the floating glyph with a wand. “That’s not what my spell’s telling me.”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll pay you twice as much.”

  “No. You forgot that just because I’m working for you, you’re not my boss. Treat the people who work for you with respect and you’ll get better results.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Too late,” the witch spat. “I don’t tolerate disrespect.”

  Trey chuckled. “That’s why I like Mr. Brownstone. He’s all about respect. You give it to him, he gives it to you.”

  Shorty pulled out his stun gun and edged toward Johns with a wicked grin on his face. “If you ain’t working for this prick anymore we can go after him, right, ma’am?”

  The witch nodded. “See, Mr. Johns? It’s not that hard to be respectful.”

  The bounty’s eyes widened and he sprinted away, his long strides giving him good distance. Shorty sprinted after him, but Trey didn’t follow, instead still watching the witch.

  “If we didn’t work for Brownstone, would you have fireballed our asses?”

  Victoria laughed. “Something like that.” She twirled her wand with her fingers one last time before slipping it into a holster inside her jacket. The glyphs on her jacket vanished, as did the one in the air. “You loyal to Brownstone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m loyal to no one. It’s all cost-benefit analysis to me.” She nodded down the alley as Shorty tackled and stunned Johns. “And the costs outweighed the benefits in this particular case.” She gave a little wave and sauntered toward the street. “Be careful, Mr. Garfield. It’s a dangerous world we live in, especially with all this magic floating around.”

  Entranced, Trey stared at her as she walked toward the street, her hips swaying.

  What a woman.

  “Yo, Trey,” Shorty shouted from the other end of the alley. “You wanna help me with this fucker?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Be right there.”

  Trey shook his head. He was now sure of a couple of things. Victoria Stone was hot, and the Brownstone Agency needed to be prepared for magical encounters.

  Fuck. Maybe I should have asked for her digits?

  James had the name and address, which meant he could skip the usual step of sniffing around contacts and go straight to the ass-kicking. He remained unsure if he should warn Schwartz he was coming or just barge in and demand the artifact. He rubbed his chin as he pondered the situation from his favorite new chair.

  The first plan might result in the man surrendering right away, but it also might end up with him readying a pile of explosives or traps. On the other hand, the second plan could end up with a man so startled he’d blast anything that moved.

  The tone of the amulet’s murmurs made it clear that it preferred the second alternative.

  You do your job, and I’ll do mine.

  James frowned. He needed to overwhelm the guy with something spec
ial. A quick call followed, but not to the target.

  “Verify identity,” replied a distorted voice.

  “James Brownstone.”

  “What do you need, Mr. Brownstone,” Heather asked, her voice now normal. “Something else come up with Parkour Penny?”

  “Nah. This is different. I wanted to place a call to a guy. I know where he lives, but I wanted it to be scarier than usual.”

  “’Scarier than usual?’”

  “Yeah. You’re a hacker. You can probably hack his microwave and shit, right? Threaten a man through his microwave, that’s got to make him piss his pants.”

  Heather laughed. “If it’s connected to the net I can get to it, and almost everything’s connected to the net these days.”

  James grunted. This was why he didn’t trust electronics.

  “I figure you hook me up to everything in the guy’s house, and I give him a little warning. Sound doable?”

  “Sure. Got an address?”

  The bounty hunter offered the address.

  “Give me a few minutes.”

  James spent the new few minutes reading about barbeque when his phone rang again with a call from a blocked number.

  “This is Brownstone,” he answered.

  “You ready?” Heather asked.

  “Yeah.

  “Okay, you’re on. I’ve got you talking through practically everything. TV, security cameras, even a drone feed and a dryer. The guy’s a paranoid fuck, but he’s not good enough to back up that paranoia.”

  The line clicked over.

  “What the fuck is wrong with the TV?” mumbled a man’s voice over the line.

  James cleared his throat. “Gregory Schwartz, can you hear me?”

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  “My name is James Brownstone. I’m a bounty hunter.”

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, Brownstone, but I’ve got no bounties on me so you should fuck off. And you shouldn’t mess around with people unless you know about them.”

  James grunted. “Look, asshole, consider this a courtesy call. You took something that doesn’t belong to you. I’m going to come soon and collect it. You hand it back, and I walk away and you never have to worry about me again, but you make this difficult, you’re gonna get hurt.”