Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(27)
He actually touched the brim of his lid then, bidding me adieu, and rode off. I was left standing there completely bereft.
Hope is a powerful thing. I had hopes of being a conduit, reconciling Cain and Abel, getting them to see reason or some such biblical shit. Hope stokes the soul, nourishes the spirit. I would not give up hope. I would find Lytton, get closer to him, reconcile the two brothers, mend the rift in the club.
Meantime, Madison came out front onto the sidewalk, her arms folded in front of her chest. “No luck?”
“No luck. He just wants to have a pity party on his mountain. Don’t worry. I’ll bring him back in the fold.”
“Use your wily charms.”
“You said it.” I wished I felt that confident. I had only ever managed to snare a little old lady with monumental concerns about his spice rack. I had no background in man-killing. “Meantime, I’ve got some Eminence Front to bring mom in Cottonwood. Can you give me a lift back to my cage?”
“Listen to you, already talking like a biker’s old lady.”
“Well, like you said. Love the man, learn to love the club.”
“That’s it. But when you’re done with Ingrid, I want you to move into our Mescal Mountain house. There’s plenty of room, now that we don’t have any more pass-arounds or sweetbutts living there.”
“That’s okay. I really should stay with Ingrid until we get her moved into that facility.” I had accepted that Maddy didn’t want to help pay for Ingrid’s hospice. We had to go for the facility with all the drug addicts, not the cleanest or most high-tech—but that was even if I could convince Ingrid to go. Naturally, she was resisting even that, preferring to wallow in her misery, not a fun environment at all.
“I won’t hear of it. You could be a huge help for me with Fidelia. Don’t you want to help take care of your little niece? Turk moved in, but he only has so much time to help with the little girl, having to run the dispensary. August helps sell pot, but Turk’s there a lot too.”
“Of course! Of course I want to spend time with Fidelia! You’d better believe, I’d much prefer that than listening to Ingrid gripe about her Masterpiece Classics or how I messed up the order of her two hundred daily vitamins.”
So I went to see Ingrid to give her the pot and the pipe Lytton had given me. Ingrid just ranted about how long I’d been gone, how I didn’t care that she was in pain, that it took her half an hour just to get to the bathroom. I tried telling her I’d come down with a bout of malaria and actually had been to the hospital, but it was as if I hadn’t even spoken, she was so self-absorbed. She literally did not give one shit that I had been bedridden as well for several days.
“Jesus wept!” I quietly railed as I banged the teapot for her tea.
Hope kept me going. But every cell of my body would prefer to be up on Mormon Mountain at the Leaves of Grass with Lytton’s long, fat cock down my throat. I could lay my cheek against his warm, sun-browned chest and hear his heartbeat. I could nuzzle my nose in the curtain of silken hair at the nape of his neck.
I could smell his scent and feel his warmth even as I poured the hot water. I would get back to him somehow. It was fate.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LYTTON
Lytton finally returned one of Doug Zelov’s many phone calls.
The dude had been nonstop calling him since the near-bust at the Leaves of Grass. Doug Zelov, Iso and their man Tyke had ridden off in their Jeep just as the cops had pulled up in front of Lytton’s front door. All a misunderstanding, he had lied to his buddies the cops. A coyote must’ve set off the alarm.
In honest truth, he’d been reeling from the bomb Iso had laid on him about Cropper. That’s why he shied away from prosecution. His entire world was already shattered—he didn’t want to invite any more violence.
Also, Lytton had filed it away in the back of his head for future use—The Cutlasses needed him and his expertise. The Cutlasses were The Bare Bones’ biggest rivals. It was a no-brainer to put two and two together.
Now that he’d pulled away from Ford and cut all potential ties whatsoever from The Bare Bones, more and more Lytton thought about Zelov’s offer. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Lytton had been getting bored on the farm. It would be exciting and action-packed to help Zelov set up a new marijuana dispensary. It would challenge his chemistry skills in new ways. Tobiah, Helium Head, and Crybaby were more than equipped to run the Leaves of Grass. Lytton liked to supervise and check in on the plants every day, but it wasn’t absolutely vital.
So after wallowing for several days, drinking Jack Daniels as any red-blooded Apache should not do, and playing Creedence’s “Fortunate Son” over and over, Lytton had called Zelov back. Now he roared past Lake No. 1 up Tollhouse Draw, heading for the motor home The Cutlasses had put on the property after The Bare Bones had blown their warehouse to kingdom come ten years ago.
Lytton didn’t give a shit if he was the prodigal son, wasting all his money, waiting for famine to strike. Kino Driving Hawk had always told him that story to demonstrate that he should respect his elders. Well, he’d be herding the swine soon enough, there was no fear of that.
Lytton didn’t harbor any illusion that he’d get off easy, having heard such an enormous, dramatic secret straight from Ford Illuminati’s lips. They didn’t know that he planned to take Ford’s secret to his grave. For all they knew and expected, he was running straight to The Cutlasses to blather confirmation to the rumor everyone had been buzzing about all year long.