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.”