Stay Vertical (22 page)

Lytton was starting to get pissed now too. “To be honest, Madison, I was thinking of revenge. Put yourself in my shoes. I just discovered who my real father was, but whoops, it’s too late, he’s already fucking dead—at the hands of my
brother.
”

Having mostly wiped June’s face clean, Madison stuffed little wads of toilet paper into her nostrils. “Her nose is broken. She needs a plastic surgeon. I can get her into my hospital and keep it hush-hush but we’ll have to get her down the mountain in Brunhilda’s cage. She needs this tooth splinted, too. Listen, Lytton. You don’t know the fucking story, and why should you? We just met you. Why would we tell you our innermost secrets?”

Before Lytton could protest, Madison continued on, determined to come clean. She sat on the other side of her bloody, unconscious sister, accepting the pot of water that Brunhilda handed her. She used a bathroom towel dipped in water to clean more blood from June’s neck, and Lytton did the same. “There’s no way to tiptoe around it, so I’ll just say it. Your father was molesting me. He did it once when I was young, and I ran. When I hooked back up with Ford later, after I was a nurse, it continued for another week. I thought I was trying to help my brother Speed.”

“Molesting ain’t the word for it,” said Brunhilda angrily.

“Yeah, well, there was another scumbag, Cropper’s sergeant-at-arms, involved in it, too.”

“Don’t displace the guilt, honey,” said Brunhilda.

Lytton fell into a guilt-riddled reverie. He was already thinking of backing off from his association with The Cutlasses. All the air had gone out of his sails once he’d planted those bottles. Seeing Turk engaged in a vulnerable and dangerous act, well, it sort of humanized him. There was no reason for Lytton to ruin Turk’s livelihood. Their natural competition would mean that Turk’s customers would come to Lytton’s dispensary. Who wouldn’t opt for organic over pesticide-laden medicine?

So he was already thinking of calling Saul’s inspection off and allowing A Joint Effort to receive their shipment of crap weed from Sinaloa. No one would ever know the difference. Who cared if it genuinely was sprayed with DDT and paraquat? That was The Bare Bones’ fault for not testing every batch.

Now, hearing Madison’s story, a sea change swept through Lytton. Somehow, his association with The Cutlasses had caused this to happen to his old lady. Either the Ochoas had busted in here and figured out how to turn off his security system, or…

“Madison. You’d tell me if a Bare Boner had anything to do with this.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “A Bare Boner would
never
have anything to do with this, Lytton! You may have betrayed us, but you’re still blood. Why would any Boner take anything out on a
woman?
And my
sister
? Never! Now, let’s get her into Brunhilda’s back seat.”

June came to as they were trying to arrange her in the back seat of the cage. It wrenched Lytton’s heart to see her do the drunk Indian thing, the “where am I?” while looking around herself.

“Oh,
God
,” Lytton cried in a strangled voice, and wrapped his arms around her tighter than he should have.

“Be careful,” Madison said sternly.

Lytton found himself uttering nonsensical words as he fluttered his palm over her bashed face. “Precious, my only, my love, I love you.”

It was as though the sun came out from behind a cloud when June looked him right in the eye. Through her bruises, seemingly every capillary in her eyeballs busted, she seemed to see him clearly. “Oh, Lytton. I love you so much.”

Brunhilda wasn’t in the mood for sap. “June! Who did this to you?”

Madison waved Brunhilda away. “There’s time for that later. Just get in the driver’s seat. What’s up with Toby? I didn’t know he was here with you.”

Lytton craned his neck to see out the cage’s rear window. Toby was stumbling down the side path from where he’d originally disappeared, only now he was more loose-limbed, more zombie-like. Slowly, Lytton got out of the cage and stood straight. Toby held something out to him. A pair of glasses?

“Helium,” Toby croaked.

Yes, those were Helium Head’s glasses. What about him? “Toby? Where
is
Helium Head?”

Toby lifted an arm that flapped like a broken bird’s wing. “Helium…he’s dead…in the veg room…”

Now the women fell silent. They didn’t know Helium Head, of course, but they must’ve realized this entire murderous spree extended far wider than anyone had thought. They looked around themselves, as though a serial killer might still be lurking behind a pine tree.

It was Lytton who first snapped into action. “Well, we know which vehicle the murderer is driving. Helium Head’s Prius. I can put a BOLO out on that with my buddies at the station.”

“We don’t use cops,” Madison sneered. “Our club is our BOLO.”

Lytton was barely paying attention. “June? What’s that?”

June had squeaked a few syllables. Lytton flung himself onto the seat next to her like an eager dog to hear what she had to say. They had wrapped someone’s down jacket around her, and he grabbed the lapels now. “What’d you say, my love?”

Her answer was as inevitable as dawn. “Iso. Look for Iso. He handcuffed me, beat me, left me for dead. Get that motherfucker. Take him down. He’s pissed at you ‘cause you shot him in the foot.”

LYTTON

I
t was amazing the organization that went into the operation.

Once June was safely in the hands of the doctors at Madison’s hospital, Lytton sprung into his new action plan. He had a lot of crow to eat, he knew, and a lot of maneuvering and extrication tactics to get himself and others out of the mess that had been created. He had Madison call Ford. She told him to be at A Joint Effort at two o’clock with his top officers. She wouldn’t do it until Lytton promised he was on their side.

“I forgive Ford,” he said, point-blank. They were in the ER waiting room while doctors worked on June. She had a broken nose and her jaw needed wiring. Brunhilda and a few other old ladies milled around shooting Lytton darts from their eyes, and Toby was draped in a chair lifelessly, completely in shock at seeing Helium Head’s body that was beaten to death with a hammer. Crybaby sat blankly next to him, this time not crying. “I understand now why he did what he did. That would be something that’d be impossible to get over, and I guess I had to’ve been there to really feel the impact of Cropper’s actions. Madison, I was lashing out, reacting because I’d just discovered Cropper even
was
my father.”

“I do understand. You were in turmoil. Now you just have to figure out how to undo all the damage you’ve done with The Cutlasses.”

“I can prove to Ford I’m on his side. I have knowledge of some shit that’s going to go down at A Joint Effort at three this afternoon. Not only will I prevent that shit from happening but I will help nail the perpetrators and The Bare Bones will once again be safe from all rivals.”

Madison was understandably skeptical. “Well. Never ride faster than your guardian angel can fly.”

“Listen, June has changed me,” Lytton insisted. “I
was
a hard, callous, worldly asshole, riddled with demons. But you know what? June’s innocence, her purity, her cheerful and positive outlook on life, that’s all gotten underneath my skin. Did you know I made her my old lady two days ago? I did. I know it’s a feeble-ass leather cuff she’s wearing, but I’m getting her a collar studded with real diamonds before this is done. Seeing her beaten within an inch of her life was a game changer, Madison. I know how Ford felt now. I know that a brother will do
anything
to protect his old lady. Anything,” he echoed.

Madison softened. “I believe you love her,” she said grudgingly. “I’m sure at first you just wanted to use her to get back at Ford, but I saw how you acted up in your playroom. That wasn’t fake. You were truly terrified to death for her safety. As a nurse, I’ve seen hundreds of incidents like that. You’d be surprised how some close family members honestly could care less whether their ‘loved ones’ expire or not. It’s really disheartening. I’m not as cheerful and optimistic as June because of what I’ve seen.”

“So will you do it? I have lots of apologies to make, and to Turk too.”

Eventually Madison caved when she realized time was running out. As a good old lady, she didn’t ask what was going down at three, but she got Ford and his brothers to drop what they were doing and agree to meet him. It was difficult for Lytton to get Toby to agree to come. He’d seen enough in the past couple of days. But Lytton needed him to repair whatever damage his Assassin’s Creed virus had done to the computer.

“Besides,” Toby moped now as they inched their way toward A Joint Effort’s storefront, “when August sees me, he’s going to rip me a new interface, to say the least. My game brought down his entire computer system.”

Ford reached for A Joint Effort’s front door. There being no windows, he couldn’t peek inside and assay the situation. “Oh, you don’t know that. For all you know, you just gave him a righteous game to play. We don’t know that the virus worked.”

“My best friend is dead,” Toby whined, “and we can’t even take his body to the morgue because we’re afraid of cops.”

“I thought I was your best friend.” Lytton wanted to tell Toby to buck up, or something equally as asinine, but the truth was, they were pretty fucked.

Just how fucked was evident when they entered the store. Even the security guard was glaring at them with folded arms, not bothering to ask them for their medical cards. He sure did lock the door behind them in a hurry, though, and Lytton had to face a wall of leather-clad bikers.

He could do it. He’d already dealt with the worst—Iso’s near-murder of June Shellmound. He had confronted these bastards—his potential brothers—before, at the airplane hangar when he’d told Ford in no uncertain terms he was dead to him. Now, the giant pizza-faced cholo, Tuzigoot, looked him up and down, his jaw working as he ground his teeth. The ink-covered stud Ziggy actually wore some brass knuckles that he cracked. Faux Pas, June’s brother Speed, August, the limping guy from the archery range, Duji, Wild Man, Gollywow, they all stood in a line facing Lytton down as though in a very unfair western.

Turk Blackburn, who couldn’t possibly have known what Lytton had witnessed yesterday by the Dumpster, seemed the most pissed. His beautiful eyes that looked rimmed with smoky eyeliner narrowed at Lytton, and he looked about to spit. It was evident to everyone by now that Lytton had gotten into bed with The Cutlasses. Lytton had a hand in the jacking of the Staples truck and the theft of the weed. Now Lytton was presenting evidence that his business manager, Tobiah Weingarten, had been the cybercriminal behind the Assassin’s Creed virus.

Lytton stepped in front of Toby protectively and held up his hands, but that husky nerd August beat him to it. August pointed at Tobiah. “That’s him!” he cried. He may as well have been shouting, “
J’accuse!
” because every single Bare Boner took a step forward as one unit. Ziggy punched his own palm, others cracked their knuckles, brass or otherwise. Others fluttered their hands over the pieces stuck into their pants as though they played little bells, itching to pull a trigger.

Lytton was quick to react. “Hold on! I’m not here to give up my man. I’m here to form an alliance.”

Toby stepped out from behind him. “It’s okay, Lyt. I can take my lumps. I’ve already seen my best friend pummeled into strawberry jam with a fucking hammer. This has already been the worst day of my life. Do your best, men.”

Why did Toby keep going on about how Helium Head was his “best friend”? Lytton shoved Toby aside again. “We’ve both lost people to these lowdown cretins, The Cutlasses. Namely, Isosceles Weaver just buried my lead hydraulic engineer with a fucking
hammer
in my own greenhouse, and he
tried
his damnedest to put my old lady into the ground. She’s fighting for her life at Mercy General right now. He killed the Ochoa truck driver for no good reason, so no. I want to see Weaver go down. And I’ve got some ideas how to do it.”

Ford took one more step toward Lytton and sneered down his nose at him. “First thing’s first,
brother
.” He made a lightning-quick uppercut to Lytton’s jaw that so took him by surprise, he nearly flew out of his Nikes.

Of course, it was to be expected that Ford
might
hit him. Lytton deserved it. It was just a formality that needed to be gotten out of the way before they could do business together.

So Lytton sprawled on the floor with an entire biker club looming over him. He felt his jaw. “I deserved that.” He wondered if he should get up, so he stayed on the floor. He would just get knocked down again. “I’ve been a fucking horse’s ass,” he said, using Madison’s term for him. “I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt before I ran off half-cocked.”

With his arms folded in front of his chest, Ford loomed even more menacingly than the others. “No one in this family is ever half-cocked,” he growled.

What? Should Lytton be laughing? Was Ford trying to lighten up the situation? “I should’ve found out your reasons for…doing what you did.” While the rest of the club probably knew what Ford had done, Lytton had the hunch that it wasn’t cool to refer to it directly. “It’s not your fault I didn’t know Cropper was my father until I was thirty. It was Cropper’s fucking fault. He knew I existed. He just didn’t want to acknowledge any Tomahonky kid.” He had the feeling Ford could relate to that, not having known about his own brother until long after the kid had died.