Photos of the three different stones sat on the table: Mexico, Illinois, and the one from Project Nephilim. A photo of Brownstone’s necklace lay right above them, allowing for easy comparison.
Shay was not a linguist, but even she could see that the symbols on the stone and the symbols on Brownstone’s necklace looked nothing alike.
She groaned and rubbed her temples.
Maybe there’s no connection there to find? How do I know Brownstone’s amulet was made by the same people? Because I just think it sounds too convenient to have two new alien planets? But how the hell can I be sure?
“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t become an academic,” she muttered. “I might have started killing people out of frustration.”
Her phone rang. It was Brownstone.
Speak of the alien…
“What’s up?” Shay answered.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh?”
“I asked, what are you doing?”
Shay sighed and stared at the pictures. “Research for…a job.”
This was the problem with growing closer to the man. Lying to him—even by omission—tightened her stomach, but if Brownstone realized the government might be sniffing around him, it’d end poorly for everyone and a few city blocks would go up in flames.
He was famous enough now from his Harriken antics that the government wouldn’t likely make him disappear even if they found out that his amulet was of extraterrestrial origin, and there was no evidence that she or Peyton had stumbled across to suggest that was true anyway. Everything she’d found suggested people assumed Brownstone was just using Oriceran artifacts, and that was if they even knew he possessed superhuman abilities.
“Just was wondering,” Brownstone rumbled, snapping Shay out of her thoughts. “We could do some shit together after Mexico.”
“I’ll…let you know.”
“Okay. Talk to you later.” He ended the call.
Shay stared at her phone, then set it on the table. Mexico. She’d almost put it out of her mind. The exploration of Brownstone’s background in South America had led to conversations in which she’d admitted some of her history and the truth about the men targeting her.
“The Nuevo Gulf Cartel. They were the ones who wanted me dead, but it was more an excuse. It’s not like I’m running from them in particular. They make it harder for me, since they’d come after me if they knew I was still alive.”
“Aren’t you tired of running? Tired of looking over your shoulder?”
Brownstone’s go-to solution to the problem of an international criminal gang being after him was to kill people until they stopped, and he’d offered to help her apply it to her problem.
She had to admit there was a certain elegance to the plan of just killing most of your enemies. The cartel had even offered them an opportunity in the form of a leadership meeting, so it was time for a little vacation to Mexico for tequila and murder.
Shay might not be free by the time they were finished, but she was making a whole new set of enemies in her new job, so she might as well clean up some of the old ones.
Peyton winced as he read the phone alert from one of his LAPD monitoring bots.
“Shit, this is bad.”
This was supposed to be a great day. After all, the Alien Ass-kicker himself, James Brownstone, was standing in Warehouse Three just around the corner from Peyton. He and Shay were gearing up for their trip to Mexico, so Peyton was getting a rare opportunity to talk directly with the man.
Shay had conveniently played musical warehouses with Lily, getting Peyton’s assistance to move her around one step ahead of Brownstone. Lily grew tired of the game and eventually gave him the slip, not that he was trying that hard to hold on to her.
He knew that when she was determined it was easier to give in. She’d return from one of her mysterious jaunts when she was ready.
Peyton looked back down at the alert on his phone.
Brownstone has all sorts of police contacts. Maybe he has some idea what to do.
Peyton took a few deep breaths and stepped around the corner.
The bounty hunter glanced at him. “Problem, Peyton?”
Guess my face must be telling it all.
“I’m always monitoring stuff in case people are looking for Shay or me.” Peyton shrugged.
Brownstone’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, and?”
“I was, uh, poking around in the LAPD system, and I found out that AET is looking for Shay.”
“Why would AET want Shay? How the hell do they even know who she is?”
“They got a partial image from a drone from that airport fight when you guys took down that assassin before heading to Japan. From what I can tell, the AET reached out and the FBI sent some information back linking the image to…well, Shay. They don’t know her real name, but they know she was a hitman on the East Coast and think she’s dead, that sort of thing.” Peyton sucked in a breath. “Shit, what should we do? If they get serious, it’ll be hard for her to hide. Too many drones and cameras in this city.”
Brownstone scrubbed a hand over his face. “Keep this to yourself for now.”
Peyton’s stomach tightened. He’d worked long and hard to earn Shay’s trust, and unless he were deluding himself, he’d even earned her friendship. Keeping something like this from her might unravel those bonds.
“You serious? Shay needs to know.”
Brownstone shook his head. “You heard me. Shay needs to concentrate on this cartel shit. This AET crap is my fault, because they have such a hard-on for taking me down. Let me handle it. I’ll work something out.”
Peyton sighed. “You sure? This seems like something I should tell her.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is going to end with her pointing a gun at me, I just know it. Is “your boyfriend told me to keep it a secret” a good enough defense with Shay?
“I’ll solve the
