(Dream Man 03) Law Man (43 page)

“Safe? Safe from what? Who are you?” I asked and tipped my head back to see a strong jaw, a partial view of a goatee and longish dark hair curling around a muscled neck and his ear.

“I’m Tack.”

Oh boy.

“President of a biker gang Tack?”

His chin tipped down slightly but not enough for me to get a good look at him before his eyes went back to the road and he muttered, “See Lawson’s told you about me.”

“Uh –” I started.

He cut me off. “Motorcycle club.”

“What?” I asked.

“Chaos isn’t a gang. It’s a club.”

From the firm tone of his gravelly voice sounding over the roar of the motorcycle I noted that, clearly, this was an important distinction.

Right.

“Um… sorry,” I murmured.

“Just keep quiet and hold on,” he ordered and I thought this was good advice seeing as I’d never been on a motorcycle. I also didn’t know you could ride on a motorcycle like this. It didn’t feel very safe though he seemed in command.

Still, probably better if he had nothing to concentrate on but the road and making sure we didn’t crash and die since neither of us were wearing helmets.

We roared onto Speer Boulevard then we turned and roared up University Boulevard then another turn and down we roared on Alameda then another turn and more roaring down Broadway and then we turned into the enormous forecourt of a mechanic’s garage.

He parked in front of a long rectangular building and all the bikes roared in beside us like they practiced this formation often and they were the motorcycle equivalent of the Air Force Thunderbirds.

It was then that I realized somewhere along the way I’d lost my phone and purse.

And I’d been talking to Mitch when it all happened.

“Oh no,” I whispered, staring at Tack’s neck.

“Hop off, chestnut.”

I blinked and looked up at him to see his shadowed face looking down at me.

“What?”

“Can’t get off until you let me go and get off so hop off, chestnut.”

“Chestnut?”

“Your hair,” he grunted. “Now hop…
off.
”

And it was then I noticed that I still had my arms tight around him. Considering his tone was becoming impatient, I felt it prudent at that juncture to let him go and hop off. So I did that and stood unsteadily beside his bike while his brethren closed ranks.

He threw his leg off, grabbed my hand and started walking with wide strides toward the rectangular building taking me with him.

“Um… Mr., uh… Tack –”

“Just Tack,” he interrupted, not breaking stride and dragging me toward the door to the building.

“Right, uh… Tack. I lost my phone. I was on a call to my boyfriend, um –”

He pushed open the door at the same time he twisted his neck and ordered, “Dog, call Lawson. Tell him we got his woman at the compound and she’s safe.”

He knew who I was?

“You know who I am?” I asked as he dragged me into what looked kind of like the rec room of a house except a lot bigger and decorated in shades of seedy bar.

“Make it my business to know everything worth knowin’ in Denver,” he muttered, stopped and stopped me with a tug on my hand.

And since the lights were on I saw him.

Wow.

I’d had a lifetime of rough, gruff men like him visiting my Mom’s trailer and even some of them coming in to visit me in my room. Therefore, I was not big on rough, gruff men who required haircuts and needed to carve out some time to trim their facial hair.

But he was different.

He had some silver in his unruly black hair. He also had visible tattoos and lots of them. Further, he had fabulous bone structure, a dominant brow, a strong jaw. His goatee was long at the chin but for some reason I liked it and I figured this reason was because he wore it well. He had lines radiating from the sides of his eyes and they were extremely attractive.

And he had very,
very
blue eyes.

“You’re dangerous hot too but a different kind,” I blurted, unfortunately still drunk regardless of the drama I found myself involved in.

His eyes narrowed on me, his head tilted to the side then his goatee moved as both ends of his mouth tipped up slightly.

Oh yes. Dangerous hot.

He turned his head to the boys who followed us in and ordered, “Lockdown Ride. Eyes on the perimeter. No one gets in except Delgado and Lawson.”

On that, he started walking while dragging me behind him again. He took me around a bar to a hallway that had lots of doors off of it.

“Do you know what’s going on?” I asked as he dragged me.

“You know Grigori Lescheva?” he asked back.

Russian mob.

I felt my stomach clench.

Oh boy.

This could not be good.

“I know
of
him,” I answered as he pushed open a door.

Then he turned on a light and I saw it was a bedroom, a very untidy one.

He pulled me in, stopped us and looked down at me. “Well, he knows you.”

Fantastic.

Tack wasn’t done.

“He also knows your cousin was talkin’ with the DA.”

Damn.

Tack kept going.

“And he also knows you recently had a sit down with him.”

Shit.

“Uh…” I mumbled, unable to wrap my head around this.

“And last, he knows you got a connection with that shit for brains Otis Pierson.”

Shit!

“I barely know Otis,” I told Tack. “I just kind of work with him. And I think he’s creepy.”

“Might be so but Lescheva’s got a problem, he’s comprehensive about solvin’ it.”

That
really
didn’t sound good.

“Are you saying that he thinks I’m part of his problem?” I asked.

“I’m sayin’ that you got a connection with two people who are bein’ serious pains in his ass. He’s made note ‘a that and when he sweeps up a mess, he’s thorough.”

I stared up at him and whispered, “That’s insane.”

“Chestnut, this guy’s Russian mob. Not one of them is right in the head.”

This was probably true.

“How are you involved in this?” I asked.

“Your cousin and Pierson are bein’ a pain in Lescheva’s ass, he’s a pain in mine,” Tack answered but didn’t elucidate further.

I left it at that as my drunken, stunned brain chugged through this information and when it did, my body locked. All except my hand which shot out to Tack, my fingers curling tight into his black tee.

“My kids,” I whispered.

His head was tipped down to stare at my fist in his tee. I was unfortunately familiar with biker guys so I knew they weren’t big on you touching them unless this was invited but I didn’t remove my hand. Instead, I pulled his shirt out and then pushed it back in, taking a step toward him and his eyes came to me.

“My kids. Bud and Billie. They’re Bill’s kids but they’re mine. If this guy is comprehensive, will he –?”

“Fuck,” he clipped, cutting me off then he roared, “
Brick!
”

Oh God.

Oh God!

I pushed in closer, my heart tripping over itself, I added my other fist in his shirt and whispered, “Tack.”

“We’re on it,” he muttered, the door opened and a big biker with a small beer gut and a lot of russet brown hair held back in a man-bun swung in with the door. “Winchell’s kids,” Tack said to the big guy

The big guy’s face went hard and he muttered, “Fuck.”

“They’re at Mitch’s sister’s house. Her name is Penny,” I told them, adding her address then a thought occurred to me and my fists tightened in his tee. “Oh God, Tack. She has kids too!”

“Call Lawson,” Tack ordered the guy in the door. “Get on that.”

The big guy nodded then he was gone.

“Oh God,” I whispered.

“We’re on it,” Tack repeated.

“Oh God!” I cried.

His hands came to my shoulders and squeezed.

“Babe, we’re…
on it.
”

I stared up into his very,
very
blue eyes.

“Trust me,” he said softly.

I just kept staring up into his very,
very
blue eyes.

I didn’t trust bikers. Again unfortunately, I’d known a lot of them and the ones I knew were not trustworthy.

But staring into his eyes, standing there still drunk, totally alive, with bikers going out to take care of my kids, a call being made to my man and
not
being in a car whisked to the unknown but definitely unsafe with the Russian mob, I trusted him.

So I nodded.

He squeezed my shoulders.

Then he said quietly, “I’ll be back. Stay here.”

I nodded again.

Then he was gone and I was staring at a closed door.

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.