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.

“I will see that doesn’t happen,” Lescheva said quietly.

“My kids,” Mitch prompted.

Lescheva’s brows went up. “You claim them?”

“They’re mine,” Mitch stated.

Lescheva studied him.

Then he whispered, “This, I did not know.”

He’d been watching but he didn’t understand what he saw. Mitch got this. Lescheva thought Mitch’s moves were about Mara and they were. But it wasn’t only about her.

It was the closest he’d get to an apology.

And it didn’t mean smack because he also went after Mara even knowing she was Mitch’s.

Mitch didn’t reply.

Lescheva lifted his chin.

Assent.

“The call,” Mitch pushed.

“I’ll find these children for you,” Lescheva stated gregariously.

“You do that, as in, now,” Delgado entered the conversation and Lescheva looked to him then he looked to Tack.

Then he muttered, “Strange bedfellows,” and he did this while reaching into his inside suit coat pocket.

The room went wired and two guns moved to him.

Lescheva smiled calmly and his hand came out with his phone.

* * *

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

Mitch heard the men’s calls as he moved through the house, his gun up, his flashlight up under it.

He moved up the stairs, Slim at his back. At the top landing, two ways to go. He turned, flicking two fingers right to Slim. Slim jerked up his chin, took the last two stairs and moved right.

Mitch moved left.

“Clear!” he heard from downstairs.

The right play was Lescheva ordered his men to move out, leaving the kids.

Leaving the kids.

Mitch hoped to Christ they’d moved out and left the kids.

Standing beside the first closed door on the upstairs landing, he threw it open then moved into the doorway, gun up, flashlight up.

In the corner there was a twin bed.

In the corner of the bed, back to the wall, there was Bud.

Asleep with her head on his thigh was Billie.

“Got them!” Mitch called. His eyes scanned the otherwise empty room, he dropped his gun and moved swiftly to the bed. “Here now, Bud. Safe. Yeah?”

Mitch kept his light low but shining on the children. Both kids were healthy, clean, in their pajamas. Bud had pulled a blanket over Billie. No blood, no visible injuries.

Thank Christ.

Thank Christ.

Mitch holstered his gun and arrived at the bed realizing Bud hadn’t spoken and Mitch’s eyes stopped scanning for injuries and focused on the boy.

“You came,” Bud whispered.

“Of course, buddy,” Mitch whispered back.

“You came,” Bud repeated so soft Mitch almost didn’t hear him.

Then Mitch watched the tear fall from his eye and slide down his cheek.

A burn hit his chest and Mitch found it hard to breathe.

He locked it down.

No blood. No visible injuries. They were safe.

Safe.

Now it was time to go home.

“Let’s get you home,” Mitch whispered, reached out and carefully lifted a dead to the world Billie to cradle her in his arms as he felt Slim enter the room behind him.