Page 21 of Race With The Devil

Tobiah practically levitated from his seat with pride. “Because the other one a mile and a half away was shut down for a few hours during the time the email was sent due to a shooter threat.”

“Oh, God,” Unity groaned. “Welcome to the modern world.”

I was glad I hadn’t mentioned to Unity that I’d asked Wolf to approach the Bare Bones about getting me an untraceable piece. If we were really dealing with a murder, I’d need it.

“Well, listen,” said Unity. “I’ve got to get to that blindfolded blunt rolling contest in downtown P and E.”

Wolf said, “Oh, are they having that again? You won last year.”

It was Unity’s turn to stand proud. “I sure did. I rolled the finest smokable blunt in under two minutes. Beat out all those other lame HempCon so-called competitors.”

“That’s a thing?” I asked.

Lytton said, “Yeah, it’s at my dispensary on Bargain Boulevard if you want to come down, Tanner. Whole block is cordoned off. Award-winning extraction artists, a master bud competition—“

“Which of course you’ll win,” said Wolf.

“—which of course I’ll win, costume competition, and I’m running a workshop on how to grow your cannabusiness, so I’m blazing.”

Lytton did blaze, so Unity and I followed his path to the front door. We’d driven up the mountain separately because I knew about the carnival, and I did have some other personal issues to deal with. Weed was fine with me—for other people. My teen years had been so chockful of drugs and miscellaneous mind-altering products, I couldn’t help but think it had a lot to do with the legal mess I’d wound up in.

I walked her to her Harley and dared to suggest, “After your contest, why don’t we have dinner to discuss our next steps?”

“Oh, it turns into a giant party. I’ll just be eating street food with my friends and the people I see at these events. How about breakfast?”

Breakfast it was, and as I turned to stride to my rental car, I noticed something out of place.

A guy in his twenties with spiky, dirty blonde hair stared directly at us with the most shocked, piercing gaze I’d ever seen. It was almost as though he’d busted us walking out of our own friend’s house, and he was surprised to see us. Lytton’s spread was huge, but most of it went down the hill toward Mormon Lake. Still, the main road back to town was forty yards uphill, and there was no reason for the guy to be there, way too old to be riding an old clunker bicycle. But he was.

Unity and I shared glances, our brows furrowed. Lytton didn’t grow any pot near his house, so the kid wouldn’t be there to steal anything of that nature. Eventually, because the guy pedaled back off down the main road, we just shrugged and went on with our day.

We kept up an even pace down the road side by side, me in the rental car and the stoner biking. He was hauling ass, and he kept looking over at me. It wasn’t my imagination. He was unafraid of me.

I wouldn’t find out until later the significance of any of this.