They hopped out of the truck, and Brownstone pulled the suitcases from the back and unzipped them both. One contained boxes of ammo, along with guns and knives. The other contained various types of electronics, as well as a few tactical harnesses and holsters.
Shay leaned over to grab a harness, and spent a few moments tightening it while Brownstone fiddled with a black wristband.
“Jammer?” she asked. Brownstone was more prepared for all the possibilities than she’d thought.
He nodded. “Yeah. Long-range, but doesn’t last all that long. I just want to make sure they don’t sneak up on us with tactical drones. Too far from the city not to think they might have some of the heavier-duty shit. I prefer fighting people, not machines.”
Finished with her harness, Shay eyed the weapons choices before grabbing a couple of semi-automatic pistols and a Steyr machine pistol. She spent the next few moments stuffing her harness with magazines. Efficiency in murder was always a good thing, but for a proper killing, a lady prepared herself for all eventualities.
The next few minutes passed in dead silence as they strapped on their weapons and knives. Each ended up also with a handful of grenades, both incendiary and frag.
Brownstone pulled out the small box he’d placed in his jacket pocket and opened it. It contained two small bottles Shay was certain were magical potions of some sort. Unless the bounty hunter was interested in perfumes in the middle of a fight.
Shay eyed the potions as James slipped them into a pouch on his harness. “For a guy who doesn’t like magic, you sure use a lot.”
She considered asking him about the amulet. If that wasn’t magic, then Peyton had a good sense of fashion. But she also understood Brownstone was entitled to a few secrets, just as she was.
“I don’t like magic,” he explained, “but this is a rescue mission, so I have to be a little more careful. I hope it doesn’t come down to using more magic than necessary, but I want to be prepared.”
Shay slammed a magazine into her Steyr. “I think I’ll just stick to shooting and stabbing people.”
Okay, so maybe I’ll use the occasional magic knife.
The more jobs she took, maybe the more sense it’d make for her to start stockpiling artifacts for her own personal use. Still, there was something to be said for straightforward weaponry.
Brownstone chuckled as he seated several throwing knives. “Dead is dead. Don’t care how.” He stood, taking a final moment to check his load-out. “Just so you know, this is about rescuing the woman. I don’t need anyone alive to spread rumors about me this time.”
See, Professor? Brownstone makes it easy. None of this ‘don’t kill people’ shit.
“Got it. Kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out.”
Brownstone grunted. “Let’s go say hello to the Harriken.”
Shay grunted back, trying to force her voice down an octave. “And goodbye.”
The bounty hunter led off with a smile playing on his lips.
Shay trailed after Brownstone as they jogged toward Belmont House, her heart pounding. People talked about how important it was to remain calm in dangerous situations.
She’d always thought that was bullshit.
A little fear got her heart and adrenalin pumping, which translated to her being faster and stronger. The smallest edge in battle could mean the difference between life and death. It could be difficult to ride the line between fight or flight, but for her it was almost always worth it.
Ahead of them, a two-story wooden building nestled comfortably among tall pines. From their check on the internet, Belmont House also contained a basement level. They assumed Nicole Anderson was being kept below.
Cars, SUVs, and trucks lined the paved circle drive leading up to the chalet, from luxury models to junkers.
The pair pushed closer to the target.
Over twenty men lingered outside in the circle drive. Half of them appeared to be Harriken, judging by the swords on their sides. The others were a mixed group of non-Japanese men wearing suits, tactical uniforms, or street clothes with obvious gang colors.
It was like a United Nations of scumbags.
Most of the thugs had pistols or submachine guns in their hands. A few carried assault rifles or shotguns. They were ready to play.
Several drones hovered overhead, their rotors lightly whirring, but from a distance, it was hard to tell if they were armed.
“Looks like they know we’re here,” Shay muttered. “Some drone probably spotted the truck before we pulled off the road. I would have liked a little more surprise. Not a bunch, but at least some.”
Brownstone tapped his jammer band. “If they didn’t know before, they’ll know now. And sometimes it’s better for them to know you’re coming and be afraid. They’ll make more mistakes that way.”
“If you say so.”
The drones all halted, hovering in place.
One of the suited men yelled something, and the men in the circle drive spread out.
“Remember,” Brownstone rumbled. “We don’t need survivors. Do what you need to do. Just don’t die.”
“Good.” Shay flipped her Steyr’s safety off. “That makes things easier.”
“Let’s get closer, and you lay down suppressive fire,” James ordered. “And I’ll close and finish them off.”
Shay gave him a mock salute. “Aye, aye, sir! And Brownstone?”
“What?”
“Don’t get killed by being stupid. Remember, we’re here for a reason.”
Brownstone grinned. “I haven’t been killed yet, and I do dangerous shit all the time.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “It only takes one time, dumbass.”
They sprinted through the cover of thick tree trunks in a zigzag pattern. One of the thugs shouted.
Time for the fun.
A fusillade of bullets blasted through the woods. Shay offered a burst in return, taking down a poor gangbanger with a pistol. He’d picked a bad day to make an extra buck.
A quick roll brought Shay behind some douchebag’s Lexus. Brownstone kept running. Bullets pelted the car and the tomb raider grinned, satisfied that not only did she have decent cover, but some asshole’s car was
