Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(46)
“Helium Head,” I yelled, “do you know where my phone is?”
The voice coming from behind me in the kitchen doorway startled me deaf, dumb, and blind.
“No, but if you hum a few bars, I’ll fake it.”
Twirling around, I gasped to see Iso standing there. He was his usual greasy self, only dirtier. I didn’t think he’d taken a shower since before murdering that driver. The guy gave me even bigger creeps than that old Neanderthal himself, Cropper Illuminati. Although to my credit, the times I’d seen Cropper I’d probably been too young and na?ve to recognize danger.
Iso was simply grimy and unkempt, absolutely contaminated with every stray stain, growth, and blotch known to man. From ten feet away, he smelled like a stew of body odor and motor oil, and a tincture of something I identified as a Ugandan train station. I knew Lytton had to hide the fugitive for a few days, but as far as I knew, the heat had blown over. There was no talk of the murder in the news. I knew. I had googled it. So Iso could f*cking bloody well crawl back to his cave now and stop bringing liability down on the Leaves of Grass.
I asked mildly, “Do you want a ride back down the hill? Back to your clubhouse?”
He wasn’t even laughing at his own lame joke. He had that sort of permanent sneer, as though his lip had gotten snagged on a tooth. His teeth were a marvel. “Meth Mouth” had destroyed the enamel and the constant teeth-grinding of the addict had twisted them every which-way. He looked like he munched a box of broken Chiclets. I should have noticed that when he came in from the back, he’d tossed a heavy hammer on the kitchen table. But I wasn’t made aware of that until the following day. Hindsight and all that.
“Yeah, sure,” he slurred. I was so used to Iso being perpetually wasted that it didn’t stand out to me that it was eleven in the morning. Eleven in the morning, drunk, with a bloody hammer. Not a good recipe for success. “But first why don’t we have a little fun?”
It still didn’t sink in to my brain what he was driving at. Fun? No, thank you. I wasn’t in the mood for fun. My sister was expecting me at her McMansion to babysit, and I desperately wanted to ask her permission to tell Lytton the impetus behind Ford’s game-changing actions of last year. I was convinced I could smooth over the deathly Cain and Abel game Lytton and Ford had been playing. In my eternal role as arbitrator and counselor, I could get Lytton to understand Ford’s motivations. Within weeks we would all be one big happy family, going on picnics together, visiting vortexes, swimming in Ford’s kidney-shaped pool.
What a f*cking moron I was.
“No thanks. Have you seen my phone around?”
Iso actually grabbed his crotch then. Was that a tip-off for me? Not really. I just figured he was being his usual repulsive self. “You sure you’re not in the mood for a few squat jumps into the cucumber patch? A little ol’ bury the bone? You look like you could use it, especially after riding that egghead’s pecker for so long.”
I was incensed. How dare he refer to Lytton’s penis? The two men didn’t exactly go hot tubbing together, so what did Iso know, anyway? Then I shuddered, thinking of a hot tub’s water after Iso had boiled in it. “Never mind. I’ll find my phone myself.”
I took off down the hallway. The three bedrooms of Lytton, Helium Head, and Toby were upstairs. I assumed the remaining downstairs bedroom was an office or storage, where I assumed Iso was sleeping.
“Hey, I wouldn’t go in there if I was you,” Iso called out as I stormed down the hall.
I shouted over my shoulder, “Why, because you took my phone? Iso, I don’t have time to play your games. I seriously need my phone. Do you want me to tell Lytton that you made me late for babysit—”
I shut the hell up when I opened the door.
What sort of room was this? A den of torture?
Handcuffs dangled from bolts in the ceiling. A giant human-sized X looked like a medieval torture rack. A padded sawhorse could almost be some kind of gymnastics device, if I brainwashed myself into thinking that. In a certain light, it could have looked like a workout room, were it not for the wall hooks holding paddles, whips, and floggers.
Well, well. This was definitely unexpected, but I could deal with it. I knew Lytton’s proclivities. They didn’t bother me one shred. What bothered me was the whole rack of collars. That was what got to me. That whole time, he’d had an entire collection of perfectly fine, work horse collars he could have given me. I told myself he was waiting to find something daintier, more expensive, more day-to-day wear, to give me. Or maybe he was going to get me a “Property Of” patch for my leather jacket, like the one Maddy had.
“Well,” I muttered, “whatever.” I proceeded to rifle through stuff strewn about looking for my phone, as though the sadomasochistic furniture and devices didn’t ruffle my feathers one bit. Actually, having to slide aside Iso’s half-eaten plate of food and beer bottle bothered me more. I dreaded finding anything more personal. I knew I’d never find a toothbrush, that was for sure. Another pair of his pants lay on the floor, still partially in the shape of his body, and I was highly hesitant to go through the pockets. Maybe for some reason Lytton accidentally grabbed my phone when he left this morning?
I must’ve jumped a foot in the air when Iso silently came up behind me. He’d gripped me by the upper arms, though, so I didn’t go anywhere.