Law Man

Chapter Thirty You Came

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.

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.

He straightened and Bud scrambled off the bed.

“Hey, Bud, you good?” Slim asked.

Mitch looked down at him and watched him nod.

“Wanna take my hand?” Slim asked, extending his own.

Bud looked at it.

Then he lifted his hand closest to Mitch and Mitch felt his fingers curl into the belt on his jeans.

“I’m good,” Bud whispered to Slim.

“Right,” Slim replied quietly, reached out his extended hand and tousled Bud’s hair.

“Let’s go get Mara,” Mitch muttered and moved out of the room, Billie in his arms held close to his chest, Bud moving close to his side, his hand still latched onto Mitch’s belt.

Mitch’s cell phone rang.

It didn’t wake him. He had not been sleeping, not even to doze.

He opened his eyes.

Upon opening his eyes, over the shining, dark hair of Billie’s head, he saw Mara’s head on her pillow, her eyes open and alert on him.

She hadn’t slept either.

He already knew that.

He rolled away from Billie who was sleeping cradled between them and on his roll he saw Bud pop up on the other side of Mara.

She’d made them sleep all together in her bed. When they arrived at the Chaos compound, he saw she’d been holding it together. She continued to hold it together as she checked over the kids and Mitch. She lost it when they got home and demanded they all sleep together.

Billie was still out and Bud and Mitch both saw the wisdom of giving into her demand. She needed that, they gave it to her.

It was good she had a king-size bed.

Mitch twisted, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, looked at his display, flipped it open and put it to his ear.

He then threw back the covers and said, “Yeah,” into the phone as he turned back, shaking his head at Mara and Bud.

Then he walked out of the room as Eddie Chavez spoke into his ear.

“Someone wants a word. Thinkin’ you’ll wanna give it to him.”

Mitch closed the door behind him and walked into Mara’s living room. Weak light was coming from around her blinds. It was just after dawn.

“Right,” he said into the phone.

“Hang on,” Chavez muttered.

Mitch went to the back of Mara’s new couch. Then he leaned into it, his eyes to the hall.

And there she was in another one of her sweet nighties. She followed him.

“Lawson?” he heard in his ear.

Bill.

“Yeah,” he answered as he watched Mara move to him.

Fuck, that nightie was sweet.

But the look on her face was not.

He felt the burn in his chest as he stretched his toward her and he battled to lock it down.

They were home. Safe. No injuries.

Safe.

Home.

She moved directly into his space and he curled his arm around her, bringing her even closer.

She settled her weight into him.

Bill spoke.

“Detective Chavez says they’re good.”

“They are,” Mitch confirmed.

No reply.

Mitch was tired and he had his woman and children to think about. Today was most definitely a fucking donut day. He needed to make a donut run. He didn’t need to waste time on an assclown.

“We done?” he prompted.

“Tell her to send me the papers.”

Mitch’s body tightened and he felt Mara’s tighten against his as her hand settled on his tee-covered chest.

“What?”

“Mara,” Bill stated. “Tell her to send me the papers to give her permanent custody of the kids. I’ll sign ‘em.”

“You’ll relinquish all claim?” Mitch asked then heard and felt Mara’s indrawn breath.

There was a pause then a quiet, “Yeah.”

“Now and forever, Winchell,” Mitch declared.

Another pause then quieter, “Yeah.”

“Say it,” Mitch ordered.

Another pause then a whispered, “Now and forever, Lawson.”

“Right,” Mitch clipped. “Now we’re done.”

“Lawson?” Bill called quickly.

“What?”

Another pause then, “Give ‘em a good life.”

“Already am,” Mitch replied.

“Mara too.”

Mitch made no reply and closed his eyes.

“Promise me that, for them, for Mara, give them a good life.”

Mitch opened his eyes and looked down at his woman, felt her soft body against his, her hand light on his chest, trust, love and hope shining in her eyes.

Jesus, she was beautiful. Never, not in his life, had he seen anything as beautiful as she was right then.

“I promise,” he replied.

“Thanks, dude,” Bill whispered.

Mitch flipped his phone closed.

“Bill?” Mara asked instantly.

“He wants us to send the papers.”

She closed her eyes and did a face plant in his tee as her arms wound around his middle.

Mitch tossed his phone on the couch and curled his arms around her.

He again felt her pull in a soft breath.

Then she moved her head so her cheek was against his chest.

“We need to go see Penny and Evan,” she said quietly.

“She’s fine, Evan’s fine. Told you that already, baby. They’re good. They’re more worried about you and the kids than you are about them.”

“We need to go see them,” Mara semi-repeated.

“All right, sweetheart, after donuts,” Mitch relented.

She fell silent.

Then she asked softly, “Is it over?”

“It’s over.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’s over, honey.”

Mara fell silent again.

She was mulling it over. He knew she’d do that and then trust him.

And he loved that about her.

Then she turned her head so her forehead was pressed to his chest, her arms went tight around him and she whispered, “I love you, Detective Mitchell James Lawson.”

There it was. She’d mulled it over and trusted him.

Mitch dropped his head and, lips to her fucking fantastic-smelling hair, he whispered, “I love you too, Marabelle Jolene Hanover.”

Mara held onto Mitch and Mitch held onto Mara.

Then there was a flurry of rapid movement, Mitch tensed and looked up to see Billie flying toward them, arms in the air, hands waving. Bud was standing, leaning against the wall at the mouth of the hall.

Billie’s little body collided with both of theirs and she threw her arms around their hips, tipping her head way back, she screeched, “Donuts!”

Someone had been eavesdropping.

Mitch looked at Bud.

Bud was smiling a crooked smile.

Mitch grinned at his boy.

Then he looked down at his girl.

“Donuts,” he confirmed.

Billie jumped up and down, shaking Mitch with Mara as she did then she disengaged and ran back from where she came, hands again waving in the air, mouth again screeching, “Donuts!”

“Teflon.” He heard Mara murmur and felt her body shaking against his.

Mitch moved his eyes from a still crookedly smiling Bud to look down at Mara who now had her head tipped back and she was smiling too.

He’d lied to her the first time her ass was in his truck.

Her smile was totally wonky.

Just like Billie’s.

And just like Billie’s, it lit up the room.

Beautiful.

So beautiful he had no choice.

He bent his head, put his mouth to hers and kissed it from her lips.

Two days later…

When Mitch walked into Pierson’s Mattress and Bed, he saw Mara, Roberta and two other sales associates with customers and there were a number more customers milling about the store.

Roberta’s customer was a woman.

Mara’s was a man.

Mitch sighed, gave his woman a chin lift, took her return smile and gave her friend a low wave. Then his eyes went to the window at the back of the store.

Bob was standing at the window looking out at him.

Mitch wound his way through the displays and by the time he hit the door to the back hall, Bob was standing in it.

“You got a minute?” Mitch asked quietly.

Bob nodded and threw an arm out behind him indicating Mitch should precede him.

Mitch did so and Bob followed.

Bob had given Mara the day off after the drama but she’d gone in the next two days although Bob told her she didn’t have to.

She explained this by saying, “Honey, I have four mouths to feed. It’s paid time off but my pay is nothing to my commissions.”

“Four?” Mitch had asked.

“Bud, Billie, you and me,” she stated.

“You got help with that,” he reminded her.

“I know.” She smiled then reminded him, “We’re a team and I can’t let down the side. Anyway, commissions and a future without attorney’s fees means more little black dresses.”

At that, he let it go.

She didn’t need the commissions. She needed normalcy.

Mitch gave it to her.

Further, he was looking forward to a future that included a selection of little black dresses.

And the truth of the matter was, Bob needed Mara. It was still the summer madness sale not to mention news coverage about what happened at Pierson’s had been extensive. Though, luckily, considering the operation to find Bud and Billie had been unofficial, the media had not stumbled onto that information and Mara and the kids did not factor into the story.

Although Bob’s warehouse was blocked by yellow police tape, the police were still sifting through it and his stock would likely not be released for a while, this did not keep the customers away. In fact, Mara told Mitch it was a madhouse and the customers were happy to wait for the release of stock in order to have their mattress from the now infamous Pierson’s Mattress and Bed.

Considering his business, Mitch never understood the allure of crime to the average citizen but he couldn’t deny it was there. And this was further proof.

He and Bob made it into Bob’s office and Bob closed the door behind them. Mitch stood, waiting for Bob to call the scene. He’d sit opposite Bob at his desk if Bob needed to play it that way. He’d stand if Bob needed to keep his feet.

Bob needed to keep his feet.

Mitch faced him and crossed his arms on his chest.

Then he said gently, “I don’t have good news.”

Bob Pierson had done nothing but give a shot to a member of his family who didn’t deserve it and couldn’t find one elsewhere. For this kindness, he’d been informed that, stitched expertly in his mattresses and stashed in hiding places throughout the warehouse, the police had found a variety of narcotics, small stolen goods and forged passports. He also had to contact all buyers of the Spring Deluxe to recall their mattresses and replace them with new stock Bob had to purchase at a loss.

He’d taken a hit to his business and reputation that, due to his personality, he’d recover from.

But it still had hit him hard and it was visible in the deeper lines of his face, the light that was no longer in his eyes and the way he held his frame. This was not just being betrayed by a man who he’d shown kindness but the fact that his cousin’s proclivities had affected a woman he knew well and cared about deeply in addition to the two children she claimed as her own.

That was the kind of man Bob Pierson was. He didn’t blame Mara for Bill’s part in it. He blamed himself for Otis’s.

“Otis?” Bob asked quietly.

Mitch nodded. “I’m sorry, Bob. I wanted to tell you in person. Two hours ago, we found his body.”

Bob pulled in an audible breath through his nose. Then he nodded.

Mitch went on.

“Lescheva was careful. There’s nothing tying him to what was found in your warehouse. The only trail we have leads to Otis and Bill. They not only stashed it, they distributed it to dealers and Bill himself sold. Bill has confessed and he isn’t pointing a finger at Lescheva or any of his crew. According to him, the entire operation was him and Otis. This is frustrating for us but a smart move for Bill. A confession will lighten his sentence. His taking the fall without naming names means he won’t breathe free for a while but at least he’ll keep breathing.”

“I suppose this is understandable,” Bob muttered and Mitch couldn’t read him. It could be the Russian mob didn’t concern him and he was looking forward and planning recovery where his life would be free of these ties, even if he wasn’t the one who made them in the first place. It could be he wanted retribution but knew he was powerless to get it.

Mitch didn’t press. Bob didn’t wish to share, his call.

Mitch was quiet a moment then he said softly, “I’m sorry, Bob.”

Bob held his eyes and replied softly, “I should have known. He was always a troublemaker.”

Mitch shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t take on that guilt. You did right by your family. He did wrong. It’s that simple. Keep it that simple. You with me?”

Bob continued to hold his eyes. Then he nodded.

Mitch decided to move on and allow Bob to do the same.

“I’ll talk to Mara. She’ll make her barbeque chicken pizza. You and your wife can come over. Yeah?”

Bob smiled. It was small but genuine.

“I’ve heard about Mara’s pizza.”

“It’s the shit,” Mitch informed him and Bob’s smile got bigger.

Then it faded.

“She never had one and I think of my staff as family so, I hope you don’t find this strange, but I feel like a father figure to her. And feeling that, I want you to take this as it’s meant. I’m pleased when she finally chose, she chose well, Mitch. I approve.”

That was when Mitch smiled.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“No,” Bob muttered back, “thank you.”

Mitch gave him a chin lift. Bob returned it then led him out.

On the showroom floor, they shook hands. Then Mitch’s eyes located his woman and his body moved her way.

She was still with her male customer.

The man’s gaze came to Mitch as did Mara’s.

“Sorry to interrupt, this’ll just take a second then I gotta go,” Mitch told the man then he wrapped his arm around Mara, hauled her stiff with surprise body against his and kissed her, short, hard but very wet.

When he lifted his head, her body was no longer stiff and she was blinking.

“See you when you get home tonight, baby,” he whispered, looked to the now visibly disappointed man, jerked up his chin, looked back at his woman, gave her a grin and let her go.

His work was done.

He walked out seeing Roberta’s huge, bright smile.

He had Roberta’s approval too.

He gave her another low wave.

She returned it but hers wasn’t low.

He looked to the floor, shook his head and, grinning, Mitch walked out.

Mara

Five days later…

“We’re leaving, three minutes!” I called, grinning at Roberta who was standing opposite me at the bar, her kids in their swimsuits barely containing themselves in the living room.

We both had the day off and we were taking our kids to the pool. They were going to horse around while we worked on our tans. Then we were going to come back, shower and go to Casa Bonita.

A celebration.

Mitch was at the Station with the papers from our attorney.

Bill was relinquishing custody.

Yes, a celebration. And nothing said celebration like dinner with your friends at a crazy family restaurant that sold Mexican food and had strolling musicians and cliff divers.

“Auntie Mara!” Billie shouted and I could tell by her voice she was behind closed doors in the bathroom. “My suit’s all messed up! I can’t fix it!”

“I’ll go,” Bobbie muttered and moved toward the hall as my new cell phone sitting on the counter rang.

I looked down to see the display said, “Unknown caller.”

My brows knit and I wondered if Mitch was calling from an extension at the Station. I picked it up, took the call and put it to my ear.

“Hello,” I greeted.

“Chestnut.” I heard a gravelly voice say.

Holy cow.

“Tack,” I whispered.

“Yo, babe,” he replied like he called me to gab every day.

How weird.

What did I do now? Outside an intense drama, I’d never had a conversation with a biker that I liked before and I hadn’t heard from him since it all went down.

I decided to ask, “Uh…how are you?”

“Wonderin’ how I keep missin’ my shot at the good ones,” he replied even more weirdly.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Nothin’, darlin’,” he muttered then went on, “Just wanted to say, I made you a promise.”

My breath caught.

Tack wasn’t done.

“Haven’t forgotten it.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“And I won’t.”

“Uh…okay,” I repeated.

“My world, shit like that goes down, someone pays.”

Oh boy.

Maybe I should let him off the hook about his promise.

“Tack –”

“Stay beautiful,” he ordered then he was gone.

I stared at my phone.

“Who was that?” I heard Bobbie ask and I looked up to see her and Billie in her cute, little hot pink bathing suit with the baby pink ruffles on her booty walking into the living room-slash-kitchen-slash-dining room.

“My angel of vengeance,” I answered and she blinked.

Then she smiled and asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” I murmured.

“Pool!” Billie shrieked.

I smiled at my girl.

I tossed my cell in my beach bag, grabbed the handles, moved around the counter in my flip-flops and replied, “Pool.” Then I shouted, “Bud! Light a fire under it!”

Bud ran into the room in his trunks and a tee.

Bobbie corralled her kids.

We walked out of my apartment and headed to the pool.

Once I was lounging, I called Mitch to tell him about my phone call from Tack. He made no comment (though he did give me heavy silence for a moment) and then he shared that he was at the attorney’s office handing off the papers Bill signed.

I looked at the kids horsing around in the pool.

“They’re yours, sweetheart,” Mitch said softly in my ear.

They were.

My soul sighed.

“Hurry home tonight,” I said softly back. “Casa Bonita. Bray and Brent confirmed though they did it under protest and informed me they’ll be wearing disguises because if any of their gay posse sees them in Casa Bonita they’ll get kicked out of the club. Tess called and told me she, Brock and the kids are meeting us there. So are Kenny and his kids. LaTanya and Derek are following us.”

“Got it.”

“We’ll be ready when you get home.”

“Got it.”

“We still on for those viewings with the real estate agent on Saturday?” I asked.

“Yep,” he answered then threw out his own question. “You sittin’ by the pool right now in a bikini?”

“Yep,” I answered.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

I grinned.

My man thought I was hot.

“I’m also covered in suntan oil,” I shared.

I heard that sound I knew and loved come from deep in his chest, Mitch’s immensely attractive chuckle.

Then he said, his voice deep and vibrating with his laughter, “Mara.”

I closed my eyes.

That was mine.

Mine.

A life ahead of me with a beautiful, good man who said my name often with his deep voice vibrating with laughter.

And again, my soul sighed.

“Auntie Mara!” Billie yelled. “Come dunk me!”

I opened my eyes.

“The princess speaks,” Mitch muttered again, a smile in his voice.

“You know it,” I replied, my smile in mine.

“And love it.”

My soul sighed yet again.

That was mine too.

All mine.

“Right,” I whispered. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you too, honey.”

“Ready?” I asked.

“Ready,” he replied, a smile again in his voice.

“Break,” I whispered, my smile also in mine.

Then he was gone.