From what she remembered of their briefing when she put down her deposit, moderate complications including things like dead bodies. Severe complications covered a room filled with dismembered corpses. Even Shay shuddered at the kind of person who needed that cleaned up quickly.
“Do you have a confirmation number, ma’am?”
And here I always thought it was silly to have memorized it, but I’ve been paying for this.
“KLZ255842,” Shay related.
“Ah, ma’am. I see you have a prepaid service account. Any particular details you’d like to share about the nature of the cleaning and move that would be helpful for our staff to know?”
“Two-bedroom condo.” Shay rattled off the address. She wandered into the kitchen to glance at the bodies. “Need everything prepped for an immediate move. Also some minor wall touch-ups and garbage disposal.”
“Of course, ma’am. What sort of touch-ups?”
“Just a few holes filled in the wall from nails.”
“I see,” the woman said, her voice still as cheerful as ever. “Would these be large nails, small nails, or medium-sized nails?”
Shay glanced at one of the bullet holes, uncertain as to Purity’s exact standards when it came to bullet sizes.
“Medium-sized. Just normal wear and tear from an active lifestyle and a party I just had. Not a huge number of people at the party.”
“Sure thing, ma’am. Our staff will be able to quickly take care of those. And the garbage you mentioned?”
Shay sighed. “Just some old clothes that needed to be taken care of. Five garment bags worth. All the clothes are still together, though.”
“Okay, ma’am. We can have someone over in about twenty minutes to take care of the garbage. The rest will be taken care of by the end of the day, and you can contact us about delivery. It’s best if you’re not present once our staff arrives, as it cuts down on misunderstandings. Thank you for using Purity Solutions.”
Shay ended the call and sighed. She didn’t like not cleaning up her own messes, but she needed to get the hell away from everything that had just happened.
Time to pack a few things and get out of here. It’s a good thing I had that two-story brownstone already lined up.
Chapter Seven
Shay pulled her red Fiat Spider to the curb at Brownstone’s house. She wasn’t even sure why she’d bothered to come. Maybe some part of her wanted to confirm that the man was gay so she could explain why he hadn’t made any moves. So she could stop thinking about him. Checking out his house would help her gather evidence.
On the other hand, if Brownstone wasn’t gay, he might make a pass at her in a more comfortable setting.
She also wanted him to know she could take care of herself. It’s not like he’d said she couldn’t, but the idea that he was sitting around thinking that she needed him to watch her ass annoyed her.
It’d help for Shay to get to know the bounty hunter better anyway. She didn’t have to, or even want to, be his friend, but it would help when working together on future jobs. The more in sync they were, the better the chance they’d both come out of it alive and richer.
You’re useful, Brownstone, but you’re not indispensable. Just a hunky tool.
Whatever the treasure hunter thought about Brownstone’s personality, she acknowledged that he was a first-class fearless ass-kicker and a good guy to have on your side in a fight. Warlocks weren’t normally so easily killed. If they were, the world would be a lot safer.
Shay threw open her Fiat’s door and stepped out. She walked to Brownstone’s front door and knocked several times. No answer. She repeated the process with no greater success.
“Are you even here?” Shay grumbled. That was what she got for not bothering to call ahead. For all she knew Brownstone was out drinking with Smite-Williams or getting laid.
A light breeze blew, and an all-too familiar metallic scent reached her nose.
Shay’s heart rate grew steady and calm as she slid her gun out of her shoulder holster. It was always better to be overly cautious. She lacked the nose of a shifter, but she’d been around enough bloody messes to easily recognize even a faint whiff.
After a quick check of the nearby area, Shay hugged the wall and made her way to the corner of the house. The breeze brought the smell again. It was coming from a source outside the house. The lack of an obvious body in the front told her the body she presumed she would find lay out back. She reached the corner and took a deep breath.
Gun raised, she whipped around the corner. No enemies or gunfire greeted her—only silence and an empty side yard.
Don’t be dead, Brownstone. No man who can kill three Warlocks like that should get taken out like a bitch at his own house.
Careful steps brought her into the backyard.
A small cardboard cross caught Shay’s attention. It stood atop the disturbed soil of a freshly-dug grave, another sight she was distressingly familiar with.
Shay slipped her gun back into her holster and peered down at the grave. The cardboard wouldn’t last long, and the grave was too new. All signs pointed to a recent burial, if not that day.
“Leeroy” was the sole word on the cross.
The dog.
James had talked about him briefly during their time on the planes. It was one of the few times the guy had seemed normal to her; even pleasant. Another gust blew and the cardboard swayed in the wind, revealing more writing on the back.
“Remember,” Shay read. Kanji characters had been printed next to the English word. “Oh, shit.”
Shay didn’t know Japanese, but she did know the Japanese characters for Harriken.
“It’s got nothing to do with me,” Shay muttered to herself. “It’s not…” She sighed, her palm going to her forehead. “That’s just low, Harriken. Too damn low.”
Killing someone who had it coming was one thing. Hell, killing someone who didn’t have it coming but could at least defend themselves was justifiable—depending on
