She’d texted Peyton to ask him to do a quick dig on anything involving the Harriken. Whatever information he could provide might help.
Now she was parked outside the Brownstone’s house thinking about going to war with an entire gang. And all for no money.
I let that girl get into my head too much.
Shay sighed and headed toward Brownstone’s door. His big-ass F-350 parked in the driveway proved he was home. She hadn’t texted ahead, almost afraid to not let her pure instincts guide her at this point.
She grabbed the handle of his door and pulled it open.
Brownstone stood in the hallway, his .45 pointed right at her.
Oh shit.
Shay threw her hands up. “Don’t shoot, Brownstone. It’s me.”
The bounty hunter narrowed his eyes and eased off the trigger. He took a deep breath and holstered his sidearm. “Where the fuck is Alison?”
Fuck. It would have been polite to knock. Be embarrassing if the guy I’m trying to help is the one who took me out.
“At my place. It’s safer anyway. I have locks, and security actually made this century. And a panic room.”
“Why the hell aren’t you with her?”
Shay shrugged. “Because you’re gonna need my help with your next mass-murder spree, big guy.”
“Your help?” he asked as he put his pistol back up, locking it into its holster.
She nodded. “Yeah. I know how this whole thing ends. The kid told me about how you’re gonna ‘persuade’ the Harriken.” Shay made air quotes at the word persuade. “And we all know that in Brownstone-speak that means you’re gonna kill every last one of those motherfuckers.”
He grunted. “I might not need to kill all of them.” He scratched his cheek. “Just most of them.”
Shay stared at him. “The point is, sure, you took out that Harriken house, but wherever they’re holding the kid’s mom is probably a higher-security location. And now they know you’re coming. It’s gonna be shoot-on-sight, snipers…magic, for all you know. Maybe one of those talking statues you’re so worried about.”
She remembered him discussing that in an earlier conversation. Her own recent encounters with statues only fueled her concern.
Brownstone locked eyes with Shay. “What I did in that house isn’t my full strength. I’ve still got a few tricks to show them. I don’t need help. Especially your help.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you see behind you, Brownstone?” Shay let out a dark chuckle. “Because that’s what it’s gonna take not to die. You didn’t exactly escape unhurt last time. A bullet through the head or heart will kill even you, Brownstone. Now imagine a .50-cal sniper bullet. Even your skull isn’t thick enough to stop that.”
Stop being such a stubborn bitch. Huh. That must be how the Professor thinks about me.
Brownstone dropped into his recliner. “I don’t need some tomb raider to grab the mom while I’m distracting a few guys. If that was your plan, give it up.”
He slammed his fist into his palm and twisted it as he looked at her. “This is applied ass-kicking, and I’m the expert here. This isn’t about sneaking around, it’s about tearing some motherfuckers apart. These guys are an infestation, and I’ll be the exterminator.”
Shay walked farther into his living room and loomed over him as he sat in the chair. She was tired of him thinking she was just a pretty face with a knowledge of history.
“I’ve got skills, Brownstone. I’m still new at the field archaeology gig. It’s not what I trained for all my life.”
The bounty hunter snorted as he shook his head, but he eyed her. “Skills? What, like pole dancing?”
Shay’s mouth dropped open. Anger coursed through her. Her heart kicked into overdrive, and she resisted slamming her first into the smug prick’s face.
Maybe the Harriken aren’t gonna be the ones who kill you, motherfucker.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Shay spat, hands on her hips.
Brownstones put up a hand. “I know you had a tough life as a stripper or a prostitute or whatever before and I’m sorry for that, but having seen the dark side of people isn’t the same thing as doing what I do. It’s not enough just to be angry.”
This whole fucking time that’s what he’s been thinking? So you noticed me, Brownstone, just in a different way, huh?
Shay’s hands curled into fists. “Is that what you fucking think? That I was a stripper or a prostitute?”
Brownstone shrugged and waved at her. “Yeah. You’re good looking, you’ve got issues with men, and you won’t talk about your past. Plus, you thought I was gay because I’m not into you. I take it that doesn’t happen often.”
Fuck your assumptions, you damned barbecue freak. And fuck you.
Shay grit her teeth and looked away, uncurling her fists as she crossed her arms. “This is bullshit.” She tried to keep her anger in check. “I shouldn’t have to tell you crap about my past.”
Alluding a little to her rough life to Alison was one thing. Giving specific details to Brownstone, especially when she wasn’t 100 percent sure she couldn’t trust him to turn her into the cops was a different thing.
His voice was stony. “You want to join the party, then I need to know you have the skills to earn an invitation. If you won’t tell me about your past, I can’t trust you to have my back.”
Shay looked away.
Would he really turn me in? The fucker just murdered a shit ton of people without a bounty. His hands aren’t so clean, either.
Brownstone pushed out of his chair and stood up to stare down at Shay. “Yeah, you’re right. One of the Harriken at the house gave up a location. I didn’t know what it was for at the time, but now I get it. It’s where Alison’s mom is. I’m gonna raid the place and rescue her. And you’re also right that it’s gonna be more dangerous than what happened at the house.” He squared his shoulders. “So if you want
