“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.