“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.