Law Man

  “Mitch, man, stand down,” Hank kept at it.

  Mitch pressed Winchell deeper into the wall using his hand and body to do it.

  “Talk to me now,” Mitch clipped.

  “He’s…” Winchell forced another swallow, “he’s…Lescheva’s got my little girl?”

  “And Bud,” Mitch confirmed. “Now fuckin’ talk!” he barked.

  “My boy,” Winchell whispered.

  He didn’t have time for this.

  His kids were…

  They were…

  Fuck, he didn’t have any fucking time.

  Mitch got nose-to-nose with him and roared, “Talk!”

  “I’ll talk, dude, I’ll talk,” Winchell forced out.

  Mitch released his throat and stepped back. Eddie and Hank relaxed at his sides and Winchell put a hand to his throat and began to move forward.

  Mitch put a hand to his chest and pushed him against the wall. “We’re not gettin’ comfortable, havin’ a beer and chattin’ about football. When I say talk now, I mean talk…now.”

  Winchell’s eyes came to his.

  Then he said, “The mattresses.”

  “Got that,” Mitch clipped. “What about them?”

  “They don’t sell,” Winchell explained.

  “Got that too,” Mitch bit out. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t got.”

  Winchell nodded.

  “Mara, she told me about them. She said they don’t sell. Said they always have a supply but they sit in the warehouse for a while. When she talked about it, I thought it was the perfect place to hide stash. Pierson is a good guy, family man, family business, single store, not a chain. Gives to charity. Looks out for his employees. No one would ever think he had a boatload of illegal shit stashed in his warehouse. I owed Lescheva, he was gettin’ impatient, I knew he had problems with storage so I told him my idea. He liked it, did the recon, found Otis was a weak link. He recruited him, stayed distant, left the operation to Otis and me.”

  “And what’s the stash?” Mitch asked and Winchell shook his head but answered.

  “Anything he needed. H. Blow. Stolen passports. Jewels. Whatever.”

  “And the over-order?” Mitch pushed.

  “Lescheva got greedy,” Winchell told him. “It was working. They move a load of product in that store but not that brand of mattress. Lescheva wanted to store more stuff there, Otis ordered a shitload of mattresses to hold it. He knows his cousin thinks he’s a fuck up so he’d never cotton on. And he didn’t.”

  “You remember they tossed Mara’s place?” Mitch asked and Winchell nodded. “Was it because of the mattresses?” Mitch pressed.

  Winchell nodded again. “Pierson thinks Otis is a fuck up because he is. Heard word in lockdown, he lost track of some shit he was holdin’ for Lescheva, mattresses went out, so did some shit. He had to find it,” Winchell answered.

  “He find it?” Mitch asked.

  “Is he alive?” Winchell asked back.

  “Don’t know,” Mitch replied. “We can’t find him.”

  “Then no,” Winchell answered.

  “Fuck,” Eddie muttered.

  Mitch kept going.

  “You know what he lost?”

  Winchell shook his head. “Could be anything.”

  Mitch stared at him.

  Then he whispered, “You put her out there.”

  Winchell held his eyes but his face remained pale and, even being the definition of an assclown, he couldn’t hide the remorse.

  “You put her out there, using her place of work, using her boss then you kept putting her out there after she took on those kids,” Mitch continued.

  Winchell said nothing.

  “And you put your kids out there,” Mitch kept at it.

  “Kept them fed,” Winchell whispered his weak excuse.

  “No, it kept you in smack and booze and smokes, you piece of shit,” Mitch shot back. “You put them out there. All of them. You fuckin’ put them out there and now that psycho asshole has got,” he leaned in, “my kids.”

  Winchell’s eyes narrowed. “They’re mine, Lawson.”

  “Wrong,” Mitch bit out then he shared, “Bud asked to take my name.” At that, Winchell’s face blanched further. “I’m marrying your cousin and we’re adopting them and both of them are taking my name. They stopped being yours at a Stop ‘n’ Go on Zuni months ago. You need to get this, Winchell, this needs to sink in so listen to me closely. They come outta this alive, they’re mine.”

  Winchell opened his mouth to speak but Mitch was done.

  So done, Winchell didn’t get a word out before Detective Mitch Lawson was out the door.

  Chapter Thirty

  You Came

  Mitch

  Mitch angled out of his truck, seeing Tack amongst the huddle and taking a deep breath.

  The huddle included Slim, Tack, Delgado and a local private investigator, Hank Nightingale’s brother, Lee Nightingale and Lee’s second in command, Luke Stark.

  Heavy hitters. Denver’s elite.

  At least that was something.

  Slim detached from the group and walked quickly to Mitch. He stopped right in front of him and Mitch allowed Slim to cut him off.

  “Your shit together?” Slim asked quietly.

  “No,” Mitch answered honestly.

  “Right. This fuckwad had Tess, Joey, Rex, I’d be where you are right now. And you’d be right where I am and that is standin’ here tellin’ you to get your shit together.”

  Mitch stared at his partner.

  Slim kept talking.

  “Mara’s good. She’s holdin’ it together. She’s got her girls around her. She’s keepin’ her shit.”

  That was his Mara.

  A survivor.

  Slim wasn’t done.

  “You know Chaos has issues and you know they do not team up with the local PD to sort that shit out.”

  “He shoulda talked,” Mitch said low. “Women and children are involved.”

  “Brother, listen to me,” Slim got close. “Been talkin’ to those guys and not only are you and me surprised as shit Lescheva made a play on a cop’s woman and the kids he’s lookin’ after, Tack, Hawk and Lee had no fuckin’ clue she was even on radar. Tack got word and mobilized. That’s why she’s sittin’ in Chaos’s compound with her girls, a guard of Chaos and not wherever Bud and Billie are. The word he heard was about Mara, not those kids. He moved the minute he heard she was in danger. He’s in this mess because he’s tryin’ to get his boys clean. This is not on him even though he’s feelin’ this shit and he’s feelin’ it deep. It isn’t on him. This is on Lescheva.”

  Mitch continued to stare at his partner. Then he jerked his chin up.

  Then he got his shit together while walking around Slim to the huddle.

  “You and Lucas are not here,” Delgado stated quietly the minute they arrived.

  “We’re not wastin’ time with that shit,” Mitch replied. “We’re here. Now we discuss the play.”

  Luke Stark shifted and Mitch gave him his eyes.

  “Lawson, this shit’s about to get dirty,” Stark warned.

  “Is this necessary information for me to have to discuss the play?” Mitch returned.

  “It’s necessary information for you to have, this goes south, you and Lucas are involved, you both lose your jobs and got no way to feed your kids,” Nightingale put in.

  “We’re wasting time,” Mitch growled.

  “You’re clean,” Tack reminded him. “You wanna stay that way, you get in your truck, you go to Ride and you look after your woman.”

  Mitch took in a deep breath.

  Then he looked Tack in the eyes.

  “He has my kids,” Mitch said slowly. “He tried to get my woman,” he kept speaking slowly. “Now, let’s…discuss…the play.”

  Tack stared at him.

  Then he muttered, “Respect.”

  Respect from Kane Allen.

  Jesus.

  Mitch let out his breath. r />
  “Right,” Delgado spoke and Mitch looked at him. “The play…”

  * * * * *

  The men moved through the parking lot, rounding the building and walking down the alley behind the restaurant and they did it knowing they were not moving outside radar.

  Therefore it was no surprise when the door opened before they arrived.

  The men inside knew the players therefore the two soldiers at the door didn’t even bother to attempt pat downs.

  The surprise came after they moved through the deserted kitchen to the back room. And this surprise was two of Nightingales men, Kai Mason and Vance Crowe, and two of Delgado’s men, Jorge Alvarado and Brett Day, emerging from the shadows of the restaurant and outflanking Lescheva’s men who were bringing up the rear.

  The maneuver, once instigated, made the thick air thicker.

  “Grigori will not like this,” one of Lescheva’s men warned Tack but Tack ignored him and pushed open the door.

  They walked into a room decorated in reds, a large, circular table in the middle. Lescheva and his four closest lieutenants were sitting around it and, even though it was nearing two in the morning, they were eating dinner and drinking vodka.

  Busy night. Late dinner.

  Seeing Lescheva, Mitch locked it down and held his shit. It took effort but he did it.

  The men barely glanced at them when their guests arrived, continuing to eat. Gnats entered the room. Unworthy of their notice.

  Stupid.

  When Hawk Delgado, Lee Nightingale, Luke Stark and Kane Allen entered a room, you took notice. You didn’t, they’d note that disrespect. They were all major players in Denver. And they had good memories.

  But Lescheva wasn’t so dumb. He sat back, eyes on Tack and he smiled.

  “Strange bedfellows,” he remarked to Tack.

  They were. Mitch knew it. Tack and Chaos Motorcycle Club skidded the edges of the real world and the criminal underworld. He had a knack for it but the balancing act was precarious and it was touch and go, considering there were members of his club who absolutely did not have a knack for it, whether he’d continue to succeed. Delgado and Nightingale were versions of the same but their morals were less dubious though not by much. It wasn’t that they participated in criminal activity. It was that their activities could be construed as criminal. They all knew about each other but, until Hawk’s woman Gwen found trouble a while ago, they had always carefully kept their business separate.

  Mitch Lawson and Brock “Slim” Lucas had no business being there. Lescheva was under Federal investigation. They screwed that pooch, they’d lose their jobs.

  Lescheva knew this.

  “Where are the kids?” Tack replied and that was pure Tack. Everyone knew it. Kane “Tack” Allen didn’t fuck around.

  Lescheva’s brows went up. “Kids?”

  “We talk deal,” Tack returned and Mitch got tense.

  The only deal Grigori Lescheva wanted from Kane Allen and his motorcycle club was for Tack to backtrack from his maneuvers that took his club out of the criminal underworld they inhabited to skidding the edges of it. Chaos used to transport Lescheva’s shit and warehouse it. They’d had a knack for that too. For reasons Mitch did not know but shocked the shit out of everyone on the grid, Tack’s hostile takeover of Chaos meant under his leadership they’d broken a number of alliances. Lescheva was hiding illegal shit in mattresses because Chaos no longer provided safe shipment and storage. It was not a secret Lescheva was not happy with Chaos, primarily Tack.

  Slim said Tack was feeling this deep, thought it was his fuck up. That said, they had not discussed him making a deal with Lescheva as part of their play. Kane Allen, however, had a code he lived by, a way of doing things and his moves were often unexpected. If Tack felt this deep enough, the code he lived by, to get Bud and Billie safe, Tack could decide to take his boys back into the game.

  And Denver didn’t need that.

  This was why Lescheva’s eyes skidded through Mitch and Slim before going back to Tack. Tack intimating he’d talk deal with two cops at his back was also pure Tack.

  Unexpected.

  “I know nothing of…” Lescheva spoke then hesitated before finishing, “kids.”

  This was the wrong answer and Lescheva and his men knew it when two minutes later three were on their backs on the floor, one was against a wall, five of them were disarmed and all of them had guns trained on them.

  Except Lescheva who sat opposite Tack at the table, his eyes flaring, pissed.

  “That was not smart,” he whispered.

  It wasn’t. Delgado, Nightingale, their men and Chaos just bought a shitload of trouble.

  That said, those men lived trouble, fed off it.

  They didn’t care.

  “Where are the kids?” Tack repeated.

  Lescheva didn’t respond.

  Tack waited.

  Lescheva held his eyes.

  Mitch’s finger on the trigger of his gun aimed at one of Lescheva’s lieutenants who was on his back on the floor got itchy.

  “Sacrifice them,” Tack said low. “Make a call. Bring someone in play. They get word to us. We go in. You’re removed. No blowback on you.”

  Lescheva didn’t move.

  “Sacrifice your men,” Tack ordered.

  “I make some calls, I find these kids for you, what do you have for me?” Lescheva returned.

  “What do you want?” Tack asked and Lescheva’s eyes flicked to Mitch before going back to Tack.

  “Access,” he answered.

  “I’m thinkin’ you don’t get this but you got a man in this room with a gun in his hand aimed at one of your boys and you know where his kids are. He’s got a badge but, I’ll repeat, you know where his kids are. Quit fuckin’ around and talk,” Tack barked the last word and Lescheva smiled.

  Then he looked at Mitch.

  Then he stated, “Access to lockdown.”

  He wanted Bill Winchell.

  “Your call, Lawson, make it,” Tack stated.

  “Find somethin’ else you want,” Mitch, eyes on Lescheva, responded and Lescheva’s smile got bigger.

  “Your woman, she’s very beautiful,” he said softly and the tense room got suffocating.

  “Make another offer,” Mitch replied through clenched teeth, ignoring the comment, making the play, drawing him out.

  Lescheva studied him.

  The he said softly, “I have a thorn in my side.”

  “I do too and tonight I learned I got more than one. But I’m not gonna do what you want done. It isn’t in you to understand this but I got two kids to raise and I become that man, I’m not fit for that job. Now make another offer.”

  Lescheva nodded.

  Then he started, “There are police right now searching Pierson’s Mattress and Bed warehouse. There are things in that warehouse that –”

  “You know who I am,” Mitch cut him off. “You know this is wasting time. I am not interfering with an investigation. You fucked up, tied your shit to two assclowns. You take that hit. Now make another offer and think smart before making it.”

  “These children, do you think they’re safe?” Lescheva asked.

  Jesus, fuck, he wanted to lay hands on this fucking guy.

  “I think they better be,” Mitch answered.

  “If you care about them as it would appear you do, I believe it is you who should,” he paused then finished, “think smart.”

  “Is that a threat?” Mitch asked and Lescheva’s chin gave the barest jerk.

  Then he studied Mitch for long moments.

  Then he whispered, “Wire.”

  Mitch allowed himself to smile. And he did this even though Mitch nor any of the men were wearing wires.

  They just wanted Lescheva to think they were.

  “Interesting,” Lescheva muttered, holding Mitch’s eyes.

  “Got another offer?” Mitch asked.

  “This is unorthodox,” Lescheva remarked.

  Jesus, this guy liked
to talk.

  “Do you have another offer?” Mitch pushed.

  “Inadmissible,” Lescheva noted.

  “It comes to that, we’ll see,” Mitch lied. “Now, you’re not making an offer, I’ll make you one. You make a call, I get my kids and you assure me that my woman and our children cease to exist for you and your men. You are then free to do what you have to do, Chaos does what they have to do and the Feds do what they have to do. This is forgotten. Something happens to my woman or my kids, ever, memories become sharp. Lescheva, my advice, you need to chalk this up as a fail and regroup. You got problems and the men in this room, I know you get it, they will add to those problems. I’m aware you can multitask but, the men in this room feel like playing with you, even you aren’t that good. Make the call.”

  Lescheva’s brows went up. “Forgotten?”

  “Forgotten,” Mitch answered.

  “Do you speak for everyone?” Lescheva asked.

  “Everyone in this room,” Mitch answered.

  “There is one other small matter,” Lescheva remarked.

  “Otis Pierson,” Mitch guessed correctly.

  Lescheva dipped his head to the side.

  Mitch held his eyes.

  Then, forcing it past the acid in his mouth, he stated, “I ask no questions, you tell no lies.”

  There was his give.

  Now it was up to Lescheva to let him take.

  Lescheva studied Mitch then he looked at Tack.

  “We are not done, you and me,” he said quietly.

  “No, man, we are not,” Tack agreed and Lescheva again smiled.

  “You often surprise me,” Lescheva remarked to Tack.

  “That’s me,” Tack replied. “Full of surprises. Now, you gonna give Lawson his assurances and make your call or are we gonna get out our knitting needles and chat while we make scarves?”

  “A worthy adversary is full of surprises,” Lescheva muttered.

  “Man, seriously? We are not in a Bond movie. Make the fuckin’ call,” Tack clipped and at his loss of patience, everyone in the room shifted.

  Lescheva looked to Mitch. “It would be a shame if any harm were to come to the beautiful Mara Hanover.”

  He’d been watching her.

  And he liked watching her.

  Fuck.

  Mitch drew in breath and the men in the room shifted again.