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.