Mitch and Bud taking off with their baseball equipment wasn’t unusual. They went out nearly daily to hit a few balls and catch a few balls either at a park or a vacant diamond and Mitch also took him to batting cages. Bud had played Little League that year and you would never have guessed a little over a year ago he’d never thrown a ball in his life. Mitch said he was a natural. It seemed Mitch was right. Bud was the best kid on his team.

Then again, it helped that those two were always carting their mitts and bat bags around everywhere they went. Heck, just the other day when we’d swung into King Soopers to grab some things we needed, Billie and I went in and came out to Mitch and Bud playing catch in the parking lot.

“We were going to have a nice lunch,” I dangled my carrot.

“Good, have one with Billie,” Mitch replied, not seeing my carrot as tasty. “Bud and I’ll grab some hotdogs”, and he said this last as his cell on the counter rang.

I looked at Bud. “What if you don’t like the clothes we get?”

“Auntie Mara, they’re clothes. What do I care?”

That was my boy, all boy therefore he didn’t care what clothes he wore.

Though, he’d probably care if butterflies were on them.

Before I could threaten him with this eventuality, Mitch spoke.

“What?” he said in a low tone that made the hairs on my neck stand up and I wasn’t the only one who felt it. The kids did too for all our eyes went to Mitch. “Right. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Leaving now.”

Oh no.

Mitch disconnected and looked at me. I didn’t like what I saw but I didn’t have a chance to fully process it before he looked to Bud.

“Sorry, buddy, gotta take a rain check. Work. Soon’s I can, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay, Mitch,” Bud agreed, his voice soft.

“You okay, Mitch?” Billie asked, her eyes still on Mitch’s face.

“I will be, gorgeous, once I get this work done. Won’t take long,” he answered Billie and looked at me. “Walk me to the door, baby.”

My eyes slid through the kids while my lips smiled a fake smile I knew they wouldn’t buy and I followed Mitch to the door.

He walked out of it, I followed him out and he closed the door.

Then he turned to me, lifted both hands and put them to the sides of my neck, leaning in so our faces were close.

“Your new girl Tyra?”

Oh no!

“Yes?” I whispered.

“She might be in some trouble.”

Oh no. On no. Oh no!

“Mitch,” I breathed.

“Don’t go shoppin’. Put Billie off for a bit. Stay at the house.”

“Why?”

“I just wanna know where you are all day, okay?”

I nodded. I could do that for him.

“I gotta go.”

I nodded again.

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, honey.”

He bent his head further, touching his mouth to mine.

Then he jogged to his SUV in our drive.

Jogged.

That was not good.

I watched him swing in. Then I sucked in breath and went inside to break the news to Billie we weren’t going shopping.

And after that, call the girls.

* * *

Elvira

At the same time, outside seating, Starbuck’s in Cherry Creek North, Denver…

The bitch was late.

This did not make Elvira happy.

Tapping an impatient toe, she sucked back a sip of latte, put it down, lifted her phone and jabbed at it with her finger before putting it to her ear.

The call rang through to Tyra’s phone.

No answer.

When she got voicemail, Elvira disconnected without leaving a message and her hand was falling when her phone rang in it.

The display said “Hawk Calling”.

Elvira took the call and put the phone to her ear.

“Which part of the words ‘day off’ do you not understand?” she asked in greeting.

“Tyra with you?” Hawk asked back.

“No. The girl is late.”

“Russians are on the move. Tack and Tyra are both targets. Get your ass to the office now and call Lee Nightingale on your way.”

Disconnect.

Elvira shot out of her chair and raced on her high heels to her burgundy Eclipse.

In most instances, except this one, it was a sacrilege but she left her latte on the table not even half drunk.

Chapter Thirty-One

Rivers of Blood

Tack

Two minutes before Hawk’s call to Elvira, Kane Allen and Tyra Masters’s house…

Tack’s cell rang as he was walking down the hall toward the sound of the TV in the living room where his kids were. He dug it out, looked at the display and put it to his ear.

“Yo,” he answered.

“You good?” Cabe “Hawk” Delgado asked in a voice that made Tack stop dead outside his kitchen.

“Yeah. Why you askin’?”

“Tyra with you?”

Ice immediately suffused his veins.

“No, she left half an hour ago to drive down the mountain to go shoppin’ with Elvira.”

“I’ll call Elvira, you call Tyra. Get her ass back there or to Chaos. Guard.”

Shit. Fucking shit.

“Hawk, tell me what the fuck and do it now,” Tack growled.

“Elliott Belova was whacked early this morning. Elaine Heron is in critical condition, ICU in a hospital in Kansas City. The Russians are making moves.”

That ice started biting and Tack’s legs started moving back where he came. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Call your girl, I’ll call my woman.”

He disconnected then found Tyra and hit go.

He was at his safe in his closet, opening it with his fingers at the same time getting voicemail in his ear.

The freeze crusted over his skin.

He stopped what he was doing and hit go on Tyra again.

He had the safe open when he got voicemail again.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he bit off, grabbed a gun and shoved it in his belt before grabbing another one. He closed the safe and, one handed, he called Dog.

“Yo,” Dog answered.

“Russians got to Belova and Lanie. Belova’s dead. Lanie’s critical. You hear any ‘a that shit?”

“Fuck no, Jesus, brother –”

“Tyra left half an hour ago. She’s not pickin’ up her phone.”

“I’m on my bike.”

“Everyone is. Make the rounds, brother.”

“Done. Later.”

Disconnect.

Fuck. How in the fuck did shit this big happen under radar?

Tack prowled down the hall seeing both his kids standing at the end of it, faces pale, eyes on him, feeling the vibe. He stopped outside the kitchen again, held their eyes, put the extra gun on the bar and made his call to Hawk.

“Talk to me,” Hawk answered.

“No Tyra.”

Tack watched his daughter’s lips tremble.

That was when the burn hit his chest and the ice started cracking.

“She’s not with Elvira,” Hawk informed him.

“Fuck!” Tack snarled so viciously both his kids jumped.

“She’s mobilizing Nightingale.”

“I’m down the mountain.”

“Meet you at the Compound.”

“Right.”

He disconnected and looked to his kids.

“Rush, gun. You know how to use it but don’t touch it unless you think you need it. You and Tab lock up after me, lock up tight. Everything. Doors, windows. You keep your phones on you. You do not make any calls. You do not leave. I’ll have a brother up here as soon as I can.”

“What’s happening?” Rush asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I gotta go down the mountain to find out,” Tack answered.

“Is Tyra okay?” Tabby asked, her voice shaking.

“She will be,” Tack answered.

That said nothing but said it all. He knew it when Tabby blanched and Rush flinched.

And he hated it.

Tack walked to his kids, grabbing Tabby behind her head first. He pulled her in and kissed the top. He repeated this with his son.

Then he walked through them to the door.

He turned at it and announced, “I’ll bring her home.”

Rush had his arm around Tab and he’d pulled her close.

He nodded.

His son was a good kid.

Tabby whimpered.

His daughter felt deep.

“Love you both,” he told them, his voice rougher than normal.

“Love you too, Dad,” Tabby whispered.

“Love you, Dad.” Rush’s voice was gruff.

Tack took off.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Chaos Compound, Denver…

Tack stood by the bar in the Compound, watched Hound hit a button on the phone and his brother’s eyes come to him.

“Pope in Boulder and his boys are on their bikes.”

Tack nodded.

That was the last one. He’d called in all his markers. Every single one.

The door opened and Tack’s eyes cut to it to see Brock “Slim” Lucas and Mitch Lawson coming through the door.

He felt Hound get close to his back but he didn’t move and he didn’t much like the looks both men were wearing.

“My guess, you know shit’s gone down,” Tack stated as they stopped in front of him.

He got chin lifts then Lucas’s gaze shot to Hound and back to Tack. “Your boys out?”

Tack nodded.

“Just you two?” Lucas pushed.

“Reason why you wanna know who’s here?” Tack pushed back.

Lawson said quietly, “We’ve got news.”

“Spill,” Tack ordered and Lawson looked to Hound. “Now, Lawson,” he growled.

Tack watched both Lawson and Lucas’s bodies go alert as if waiting for or preparing to attack.

“A red 1967 Mustang with tags registered to Ride Custom Cars and Bikes was found abandoned on the side of 6th Avenue. Tyra drive that ride?” Lawson asked.