Kristen Ashley - Law Man

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.

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.

“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.