You need guns with better penetration, assholes.
She shot the gun out of the other man’s hand, let the body she’d been holding fall, and advanced on the remaining gang member.
“You know what the best part about all of this is?” Shay grinned, getting close to the last man standing.
The wide-eyed gangster shook his head.
“When the police investigate, they aren’t gonna dig at all. They’re just gonna think some other pieces of street trash took you out.”
“Look, you don’t have to kill me, you know? I’ll go back to my boys and tell them to leave you alone. I can make sure you never have any trouble with the Demon Generals ever again, you know?”
Shay narrowed her eyes. “I already tried being nice, and all it got me was six assholes looking to kill me. So now I’m gonna go back to a proven solution.” She put a round into the man’s head.
“Fucking idiots,” she muttered as she fished a handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe her prints off the gun. She tossed it into the pile of slain gang members and searched for any witnesses. No one was around, but she assumed the cops would come soon enough to investigate the sound of the gunshots.
Time to go. I have a fucking meeting anyway.
“When is your guy gonna get here, Smite-Williams?” Shay said. She looked at the entrance to the Irish pub for the fifth time in the last couple of minutes.
The already drunk old man smiled and took a gulp of his beer. “Soon, Miss Carson. He’s not late. You’re just early.”
Shay bit down a snarky response and drummed her fingers against the table, her neck and shoulders tight. If her meeting hadn’t been preceded by a massacre, she would have been less tense.
Kill six assholes, and I don’t even get paid for it. Great.
Even without that, she would have been annoyed. Part of gaining control of her life meant also managing all the variables influencing it. She was technically supposed to be dead, and the more people she worked with, the greater the chance that deception might be revealed to the parties who had wanted her six feet in the ground.
Her research assistant Peyton, questionable fashion sense aside, was a competent man who had every reason to keep her secret given she’d helped him escape his own hit.
This Brownstone, though, everything Peyton dug up suggested the man was a kickass bounty hunter, and religious as well. A man like that wouldn’t want to work with her, not if he knew the kind of woman she was before being a tomb raider.
Shay wasn’t about to reveal her true background to the bounty hunter, but if she could get him off the job, that’d reduce her risk.
She cleared her throat. “I’m still telling you I don’t need this Brownstone. Not really. It’s just an extra body and extra trouble.”
The Professor chuckled. “The Red Warlocks might disagree. They aren’t to be taken lightly, Miss Carson.”
“Neither am I. They wouldn’t be the first people flinging around magic that I’ve taken down during a tomb raid.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all, but you have to see this from my perspective. I need the artifact.”
“I’ll get you the artifact. I’m just saying I don’t need a babysitter.”
“And as I’ve explained before. This is non-negotiable.” The Professor gave her a cheerful smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Carson. Your compensation is completely independent of James.”
Shay spotted Brownstone the instant he entered the bar. She’d already seen pictures of him online, but as he made his way toward the booth, she took the moment to look him over carefully.
Odd birthmarks and ridges covered his rugged face. She wouldn’t say it made him ugly, but he was about as far from classically handsome as you could get. Hints of tattoos peeked out from underneath his sleeves and collar. His thick muscles strained against his shirt and pants.
Woah. This guy is cut. He’s like a statue come to life.
Brownstone carried an old moleskin notebook. Something about it struck Shay as incongruent with the rest of musclebound image the bounty hunter had going.
Smite-Williams gestured to an empty seat across from him and Brownstone sat down. He took a good, long look at Shay.
The woman never had any problems appreciating that she was hot as the surface of the sun. It’d been a useful tool during her time as a killer, and it was the rare man who didn’t appreciate her lush dark hair, beautiful face, and athletic body.
Time to poke him a little and see what kind of man he is. Reputation is just a bunch of rumors in the end.
Shay smirked. “Like what you see, big man?”
“Just wondering who you are.”
Disappointment stabbed Shay. The least the bastard could do was show a little mutual appreciation for her appearance. She liked what she saw, after all, and it’s not like she didn’t know she was hot.
“Sure, pal.” Shay rolled her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”
The last thing she would do was let this Brownstone end up thinking he had control of the conversation.
The bounty hunter ignored her. Instead, he opened his notebook and pulled out a pen.
What the fuck? Whatever. I’ll figure out his deal later.
The Professor cleared his throat. “James Brownstone, this is Shay Carson. I’ll tell you her role in this once I explain the job.”
Brownstone nodded, his gaze flicking to her for an instant but not lingering.
“And before I can go into the job,” the Professor said, “I need to give you a little history lesson.”
“My least-favorite subject,” Brownstone muttered.
Shay snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”
Brownstone is just a meathead in the end, all muscle and no brain, my least favorite kind of man, let alone partner for a job.
Peyton might be worthless when it came to field work and kicking ass, but at least the man had a dangerous brain.
The Professor glanced between them and shook his head. “Play nice, you two. You each provide complimentary skills for
