“So you became an assassin?”
“No!” Shay gritted her teeth. “I was a killer; cold-blooded, methodical and efficient, but not an assassin. Assassins are pussies who can't be bothered to get blood on themselves. They shoot from a distance. I wanted the people I killed to know that I was the one taking their life, to know I had the power.”
Brownstone’s expression had turned stony. She wasn’t sure if he was judging her, but she did find it hard to believe that a man who had killed so many people that week would think she’d crossed a moral line.
“But you’re not working as a killer now,” he replied. “You’re trying to be a tomb raider. If you’re so damn good at it, why leave? Why not continue icing people for a paycheck?”
Shay stopped pacing, crossed her arms, and sighed. “Well, one dark and stormy night…” She laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I know…cliché, but that was part of the problem. Let’s just say one night it caught up with me—what I’d become. So I walked out of my house as it went up in flames and left my old city and life behind. Too many skeletons for them to be sure I wasn’t one of the dead. It wasn’t like I’d used my real name for work anyway.”
“So you have the skills, I’ll give you that, but are you sure you want to help me? If you’re trying to walk away from killing, helping me mow down a bunch of Harriken won’t exactly set you back on the path of pacifism.”
There was no challenge in Brownstone’s eyes, just curiosity.
Shay shook her head. “I’m not a killer anymore, but I’m not a pacifist either. I’m like you—I think some people deserve to die. Now I just want to make sure I’m only killing people like that.”
The bounty hunter nodded toward the door. “Let’s go. The longer we wait, the more reinforcements they’ll have. First, though, I have to go pick up a few things at the warehouse.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Shay resisted a snort. She owned several full warehouses, and Brownstone was keeping his shit in a storage unit like he was some divorced dad still living in a long-stay hotel.
“Yeah, I’m so judging you, Mr. Big-Shot Bounty Hunter. I’d be embarrassed to keep my top-notch killing gear in a storage unit. Fuck, how do you know someone won’t break into it?”
Her phone chimed, and she picked it up. It was text from Peyton.
Your Japanese friends have put out a call for additional help. Several different groups have answered.
The text didn’t surprise her, but she doubted Brownstone would want to run away because of a few extra people to kill.
Shay drummed her finger on her leg. She wondered what Brownstone was retrieving from his warehouse. The man already maintained a sealed secret basement she presumed was filled with a lovely assortment of killing implements.
Movement inside caught her attention. Brownstone turned the corner, pulling two suitcases. He pulled a necklace out of his pocket, and removed his jacket and shirt.
Shay took a second to appreciate Brownstone’s body and the ink on his arms. She couldn’t complain about the view, but the man’s decision to suddenly strip confused her. He slipped the amulet around his neck.
Brownstone grimaced as the necklace sank into his flesh until it was fully embedded, then slipped his shirt back on and grabbed the suitcases.
Shay blinked several times. I knew you had some sort of magical shit…or is that like some super-secret tech?
She whispered, her voice floating inside the cab of the truck, “Just who or what the hell are you, James Brownstone?”
They only shared a few brief comments about the Harriken during their travel to the Belmont House, the Harriken base, with Shay reinforcing it was a rescue mission. Brownstone might be good at kicking ass, but restraint didn’t seem one of his strong points.
They’d be coming up to a dirt road that would lead them to their final location. It was as good a time as any to pass along her little tidbit.
“It’s not gonna just be the Harriken there. They’ve got others helping them out. Hired muscle.”
Brownstone glanced her way. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve got information and sources for this sort of thing.” Even though she was willing to kill to help him, she still didn’t want him knowing all her secrets, such as Peyton, not yet anyway. “When you’re used to being a killer for hire, you end up plugged into the scumbag information networks.”
The bounty hunter grunted. “Anyone who chooses to get between me and the Harriken chooses to die. Simple as that.”
Shay snorted. “Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that. Just thought I’d pass it along.”
“Thanks.”
The thin dirt road split off from the highway about fifteen minutes from Belmont House. After about ten minutes on the road, Brownstone turned off and drove into a dense cluster of pines.
So, here it comes. I’m about to help wipe out an entire gangster house and a bunch of other people because they are after that girl and killed a guy’s dog.
Don’t know if that means I’m a better person than I used to be or a worse person. It’s good to get some practice in.
“We’ll hoof it from here,” Brownstone told her, shutting off the engine. “Otherwise, they may open up with an RPG or something as we drive up.”
“Worried about dying right off the bat?” Shay teased.
“Nope, worried about losing this truck.” He patted the dash. “I love this thing.”
“Ah, yes…priorities. I’ll try to make sure, as we lay dying from getting shot a hundred times, that the Harriken promise not to fuck your truck up.”
Brownstone grinned. “That would be handy.”
Shay appreciated how laid back the man was as they
