Law Man

Chapter Twenty-Nine They Come Outta This Alive, They’re Mine

What was probably fifteen minutes later but felt like fifteen days, the door opened and I turned to see another rough, gruff biker, this one younger, standing in it, hand to the doorknob, eyes on me.

“You come with me,” he ordered then he was no longer in the doorway.

I hurried out of the room after him then hustled down the hall. He turned and I turned with him to see Gwen and LaTanya were standing at the bar in the biker rec room. I also distractedly noted my purse was sitting on the bar.

LaTanya immediately broke away from Gwen and came to me, her face awash with relief at seeing me alive and unharmed. This was quickly followed by concern when she got a good look at my face.

“Honey, are you okay?” she asked, arriving at me and grabbing my upper arms.

“No,” I whispered.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Bill,” I answered, still whispering.

Her face scrunched, indicating she got me and was still worried but now also pissed off.

“We got your purse,” she told me softly, her hands giving my arms a squeeze. “But the bad news is, about seven motorcycles rode over your phone. It’s dust.”

Fabulous.

“Yo!” We heard and we both jumped, LaTanya letting me go and turning toward the bar and my eyes going there to see Elvira had popped up from behind it. She had her gaze trained on the young biker who was with us. “You got any vodka?” she asked him.

I stared.

Only Elvira would make herself at home in a motorcycle club’s rec room.

“You don’t find it back there, we don’t got it,” young biker replied.

“You good to do a liquor store run?” Elvira asked and I blinked. “While you’re out, we’ll need Cointreau, cranberry juice and limes too.”

Young biker stared at her like she’d been beamed behind his brothers’ bar straight from Venus.

“Uh…negative,” he eventually replied.

“I don’t do bourbon or tequila,” she informed him.

“I don’t care,” he informed her and she planted a hand on her hip.

Oh boy.

The Attitude.

“We’re in crisis mode and little black dresses. Crisis plus LBDs equals alcohol consumption. Strike that, crisis at all equals alcohol consumption. I gotta keep my girls steady in the face of the unknown and we’re your guests,” she educated him.

“Work with what you got,” he returned and she glared.

Then she muttered, “Tequila shots it is,” and turned to the shelves behind the bar that held a variety of glasses.

I looked at young biker and stated, “I don’t need tequila. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Boys get back, you’ll get briefed,” he replied.

“Do you have any preliminary intel?” Gwen asked and from her words I figured she’d had ongoing commando’s woman lessons.

“Boys get back, you’ll get briefed,” he repeated.

I gave up on him and looked to Gwen. “Where’s Hawk?”

She looked at me and answered, “He dropped us off and then he took off.”

“Does he know what’s going on?” I asked.

“Well, he knows Tack and he knew who those guys were in the cars that were after you so I’m thinking…yeah,” she answered. “Though he didn’t share,” she finished quietly.

Damn.

I moved to her and LaTanya trailed me. “Can you call him?”

“Uh…no, honey, sorry,” she said softly. “When I say he took off, I mean he took off to wade into whatever is going on. And when he’s involved in an operation, I leave him be and let him concentrate.”

This was probably smart.

Still, even knowing hot guy commando Hawk was in play didn’t stop me from shaking which I belatedly realized I’d started doing.

“Elvira, tequila,” LaTanya muttered and I knew she saw me shaking.

Then she grabbed my hand and I looked at her.

“It’s the Russian mob cleaning up Bill’s mess. Tack told me. And I’m not involved, like, at all and they came after me. They’ll go after Bud and Billie.”

“You can’t know that,” she said gently.

“When I told Tack about Bud and Billie, he got someone on it right away. So, yes, I can know that,” I replied.

She pressed her lips together and looked at Gwen.

Gwen looked at me. “I know Tack, Mara. He’s a good guy. A really good guy. If he’s got someone on it, they won’t mess around.”

This didn’t make me feel better either though I was getting a suspicion president of a motorcycle club Tack was not like any of the bikers I’d met in my mother’s trailer.

“Tequila, hon, now,” Elvira ordered softly and my eyes went to her.

“I’m already drunk, I don’t need more. I need my wits about me,” I explained.

“Tequila, Mara, now,” Elvira kind of repeated.

“But –” I started.

“Don’t know how long it’s gonna last but you’re on a bumpy ride. You got your girls but you need more. Listen to Elvira. Smooth the edges. Tequila. Now,” she demanded.

I swallowed. Then I nodded. Then the girl gang bellied up the bar. I took my shot glass from Elvira. The other girls grabbed one and in unison we belted them back.

I put my shot glass on the bar while wincing.

LaTanya, who didn’t let go of my hand, squeezed it.

We heard a door open just then and we also heard a man’s angry voice barking, “You got this fucked up shit, you tell the fuckin’ cops about it.”

I knew that voice.

Brock.

I pulled my hand from LaTanya’s and raced around the bar to see Brock striding in using an angry gait and he was just behind Tack.

“We don’t roll that way, man, and you know it,” Tack growled.

I stopped, eyes on Brock and asked, “What’s going on?”

His eyes cut to me and his face changed.

It was not a good change.

It was the worst change of all.

My legs trembled.

Oh God, no.

“No,” I whispered, my gaze darting to Tack who was wearing the same expression. “No,” I repeated and I felt an arm slide around my waist but didn’t tear my gaze from the two men.

Brock moved swiftly to me, stopped in front of me and ordered gently, “Need you to sit down, Mara.”

“Tell me,” I returned quietly.

“Mara, honey, I need you to –”

I knew it, I could read it on his face and I couldn’t hold it back.

Therefore I lost it.

“Tell me!” I shrieked.

“They got the kids,” he replied quickly and I stared at him, my lungs hollowing out but other than that nothing, just numbness invading every inch of me.

“Penny and Evan?” I forced between my lips.

“Evan’s roughed up but he’s okay. They didn’t touch their kids,” Brock answered.

Evan tried to step in.

Mitch’s brother-in-law tried to step in with the Russian mob.

He was roughed up but okay.

He could have been killed.

And my cousin put him in that position.

I continued to stare at Brock.

“Let’s get you to a couch,” he said softly, moving toward me but I took a step back, detaching from the arm I saw now was Gwen’s. I also lifted my hand, palm up to Brock who stopped when I moved.

“Tell me what’s happening to get them back,” I demanded.

Brock didn’t delay with his answer. “Tack’s mobilized his boys, Delgado his and Mitch is mobilizing the DPD. The call is also out to the Nightingale men.”

“And this means?” I pressed.

“This means Tack needs to brief me, he needs to get on his bike, I need to get to Mitch and we need to get them back,” Brock replied.

“Then do that,” I ordered. “Now.”

He jerked up his chin then Brock and Tack moved. Tack stared into my eyes as he passed me. Brock grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze when he did. They walked swiftly through the biker rec room and disappeared behind a door.

I stared at the door.

“Breathe, honey,” Gwen whispered at my side.

“They’ve got my kids,” I whispered back.

“Honey –” she started but I interrupted her.

“The Russian mob has my kids.”

Her arm slid around my waist again then went tight. LaTanya took my hand again and hers went tight.

I stood still and staring at the doors Brock and Tack disappeared behind.

Bill.

Fucking with me, he fucked his kids. Fucking up his life, he fucked up his kids’.

Bill.

Bill!

I tried to protect them.

And I failed.

The Russian mob had my kids.

I tugged my hand free from LaTanya’s and lifted both. Sliding my fingers into my hair, I pressed my palms to my forehead.

“They hurt them, I’ll kill them,” I whispered to the floor.

“Let’s sit down,” I heard Elvira suggest.

“They hurt them, I’ll kill them then I’ll kill Bill.”

“Move her to a couch.” Again from Elvira but not a suggestion this time.

“They’ve got my kids,” I whispered and on the second word, my voice broke.

I felt pressure on my waist then my body was moving then I found myself sitting on a couch.

Two seconds later, the door Brock and Tack disappeared behind opened and both men came out and both came directly to me.

Brock crouched down in front of me and captured my eyes.

“Hang tight, Mara, we’ll get them,” he said quietly. “Now I gotta get to Mitch. He’s not calling because he’s busy but he wants you to know he’s on it.”

I nodded.

Mitch was on it.

Finally, I felt a little better. Mitch would never, never let anything happen to our kids.

Brock nodded back, reached out a hand, squeezed my knee, straightened then prowled out.

Tack filled my vision.

I held my breath at the look in his eyes.

Yes, very dangerous hot guy.

“I underestimated the situation. This is my fuck up. We’ll get them, chestnut, then we’ll get them,” his gravelly voice promised.

I held his eyes and my voice vibrated when I whispered, “Yes. Please. Get them.”

I understood him.

He understood me.

He nodded.

Then he was gone.

Mitch

“Man, let me talk to him. You know this is not a good idea,” Hank Nightingale said from his side.

“I’m on this,” Mitch growled.

Hank looked behind him at Eddie Chavez who was following.

Eddie shook his head.

Hank muttered, “Fuck.”

Mitch ignored him and Chavez, walked direct to the interrogation room, opened the door and saw Bill Winchell sitting at the table in his orange jumpsuit. At their entry, Winchell’s head came up, his eyes narrowed on Mitch and his face twisted with hate.

Two seconds later, Bill Winchell was against the wall with Mitch’s hand wrapped around his throat.

Hank at one side, Eddie at the other, Hank murmured, “Stand down.”

“Lescheva’s got the kids,” Mitch growled in Winchell’s face and watched it pale. “He went after Mara. Pure luck he doesn’t have her too.”

He felt Winchell force a swallow under his hand.

“You talk to me now. No DA. No deal. You get nothin’ except the hope what you give us keeps those kids alive. What were you into with him and what was Pierson’s part of the play?” Mitch demanded to know.

“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.