Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(29)

To his surprise, a slow smile spread over Zelov’s face. “The Buddy System,” he said experimentally, trying it out. “I like it.”

Iso nodded. “I do, too.”

Lytton explained, “It kind of rivals A Joint Effort. They both show cooperation, and it’s a co-op, get it?” Also, anything to irk the *s over at A Joint Effort was fine by Lytton.

Zelov said, “I like your attitude. You’ll need to prove yourself to us first, you do realize that. Meantime, I’ll give you a tip. If the feds raid the store, jump to the other side of the counter and pretend you’re a patient. That’s what I was advised to do.”

Lytton laughed. It was his first genuine laugh in over a week. “Sounds good. So you’re just going to rely on word of mouth to ruin A Joint Effort, on people knowing and caring that their weed is organic?”

“Oh, hell, no,” said Zelov. “We play way too dirty for that. And this is how you can prove yourself to us.”

Lytton was fully prepared to “prove himself” to The Cutlasses. He knew this would be part of it. He couldn’t just walk up with a PhD from MIT and start running their dispensary. How would they know he wasn’t a mole for The Bare Bones? Lytton knew enough about outlaw biker clubs to know that most problems were caused by the nut that connected the handlebars to the saddle. He was an unknown element, a loose variable. They needed to be able to trust him.

“Sure. How?”

“We’re going to jack The Bare Bones’ next shipment of weed from the Ochoa’s farm.”

Zelov and Iso were practically glowing with pride at this brilliantly evil plan, but Lytton was always the one to play the devil’s advocate. “So you just walk out into the middle of a highway and take the truck? I hope the plan is more detailed than that.”

Zelov looked so gleeful, he had to have a good plan. “Oh, it is. The box truck full of Staples ‘office supplies’ will be heading west on two-sixty coming from their farm near Show Low on Tuesday afternoon. All you have to do is stick up some construction tape, get a guy with a stop paddle to stop the truck, and jack it.”

“At gunpoint.”

“Well, yeah. Otherwise, why would the guy get out of the truck?”

Iso said, “And you’re pretty handy with that Glock, from what I’ve seen. Thanks a lot. I couldn’t go to the hospital because how would I explain a gunshot wound, so I’m still just hobbling around.” He nodded at a pair of crutches leaning against the wall.

“To be fair,” said Lytton, “you were trespassing on my property with the intent to steal plants. And that’s not the first time you’ve tried to get in.”

Zelov looked at his right-hand man. “You have come up with some pretty outrageous stunts in the past, Iso.”

Iso glared at his president. “You were there too, man. He could’ve just as easily shot you.”

“I tried to,” Lytton said soothingly. “But you were quicker than my trigger finger.”

Zelov said, “How’s your man, anyway? That fellow with the white afro?”

“He’s okay. Like you said, more stunned than anything. You’re right. It was the most action he’s seen since the Clinton administration. I had to bribe him with a special edition Halo video game to calm him down.”

Zelov chuckled. “Don’t knock it. We could use some noobs, some average citizens like that in our upcoming campaign against The Bare Bones. I take it you’re not back-slapping buddies with that f*cktard Illuminati?”

“Not at all. I was made aware of some…unsavory and unacceptable things he’d done against our father, and I made a break with them. Complete and final. No going back.”

Zelov picked up an unlit, half-smoked cigar and nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry about what happened to your dad.” He implicitly acknowledged what Lytton was referring to. “Cropper was a great guy. It was an honor to be enemies with him, to go head to head with him. He had a great mind for business. Was always one step ahead of the next guy.”

“He could get pretty wild, though,” reminisced Iso. “Remember on that Laughlin run when he got so wasted he fell off the stage at the Great White concert?”

“Yeah,” Zelov said fondly. “Then he couldn’t find the handle to get out of the port-a-john. He thought we’d locked him in, but we were just standing there watching him beat up the plastic walls.”

Iso said, “Then he thought he was bidding on an ATV, but it was a romantic weekend at some bed and breakfast. Boy. His old lady was happy about that. He went over and told Tyke to stop climbing all over his ATV, but he’d won a wine tasting weekend at Ruby’s Hideaway or some shit.”

“Complete with couples massage. Those were the days,” sighed Zelov.

“Well.” Lytton knew he’d have to be oblique. No one in the biker world ever actually came out and said anything. It had to be implied. “Ford Illuminati just took from me the only chance I’d ever have of meeting my real father. So yeah, we’re not back-slapping buddies. Anything I can do to take him down is fine with me. I’ll take this truck job.”

“Good,” said Zelov, lighting his cigar. “We’ll discuss the details of the Ochoa truck run later. Me and Iso have to get over to a meeting.”