“You got a line to Dog?”

“Yep.”

“Have your boy call him.”

Nightingale nodded, pulled out his phone and stepped away.

“Kane,” Hawk said low and a knife pierced Tack’s gut at his tone and the name Hawk used before he looked at him. “Lescheva fucked up with Winchell, Pierson and the mattresses. They lost two million in product in that mattress warehouse. Shit happens, like you lose safe transport and warehousing, you deal and you don’t lose two million when you do. The higher ups do not blame you. They blame Lescheva. Then he fucked up again when he kidnapped the wards of a police officer, took a meeting with every badass in Denver and pissed every one of us off, buying himself unwanted attention. Then he fucked up again with Belova goin’ rogue and disappearing. All that guy knows? You did the best you could but he was dead even before your boys took him and his woman over the Denver city limits. His higher ups have been all over his shit. Nightingale and his boys have been all over his shit. The Feds are all over his shit. And Chaos has been all over his shit.”

“You are again not tellin’ me somethin’ I don’t know,” Tack pointed out.

“Prepare, man,” Hawk replied quietly.

He knew that too.

He knew. Tack knew.

Lescheva was stone cold. But even the coldest motherfucker burned bright before he flamed out.

Lescheva’s days were numbered, Tack had been working for a whole fucking year with his higher ups to see that come about at the same time extricate Chaos from that bullshit forever.

And Lescheva knew it.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t intend to take down everyone around him when he flamed out.

And Tyra was around him.

“Got shit to do,” Tack muttered.

“My boys and I are all over this.”

Tack caught his eyes.

“Owe you.”

“No marker.”

“Don’t play it that way, Hawk.”

“You had my woman’s back and in doin’ it, mine. I got yours. We’re even.”

He could live with that.

Tack jerked up his chin.

Then he stalked out of the Compound to his bike.

* * *

Two hours later, Chaos cabin outside Golden, Colorado…

Wearing brass knuckles, Hop clocked Gerald “Pipe” Dahl in the jaw with a closed fist and the fat man as well as the chair he was tied to went down.

Naomi, tied across the room in her own chair, shrieked, “Stop!”

Pipe spit out a mess of blood and a tooth, grunting, “I’m tellin’ you! I don’t know shit!”

Tack, standing three feet away, arms crossed on his chest, ordered in a voice cold as ice, “Get him up.”

Boz and High moved forward, grabbed the chair and hauled it up, Boz bitching, “Jesus, man, how’d you get so fat bein’ a cokehead? You’re breathin’ after we’re done with you, lay off the Doritos.”

They got him up, Boz and High stepped back, Hop looked to Tack but Tack shook his head once.

Then he looked at Pipe and demanded, “Talk to me.”

Battered, bloody, his head hanging down because he didn’t have the strength to pull it up, he pushed out a labored breath on his, “I don’t know shit.”

“He doesn’t know anything! Leave him be!” Naomi screeched.

Only Tack’s head turned and his eyes skewered his ex bitch.

“You are in a precarious position,” he told her, his voice low, chill, his words coming slow but his eyes were flaring. “Advice, Naomi, keep your mouth shut.”

Naomi looked into her ex-husband’s eyes and shut her mouth.

Tack’s gaze went back to Pipe. “Talk,” he growled.

With effort, Pipe lifted his head and, expending more effort, he focused as best he could on Tack. “Seriously, dude. I’m tellin’ you. I don’t know shit. I’m into them two hundred K for blow. They’re not gonna trust a cokehead.”

“You do that blow in front of my kids?” Tack’s words lashed out and hit true, stinging both targets.

Naomi peeped but went silent. Pipe winced as if he’d been struck.

Then he grunted, “No.”

“How you get two hundred K in with the Russians for blow and not do that shit in front of my kids?” Tack asked. “You do that much, you’d have to have that rolled bill permanently fixed to your nose.”

“I hid it, they never saw.”

“How you get two hundred K in with the Russians for blow and not do that shit in front of my kids?” Tack repeated when he got a bullshit response.

Pipe blew out another jagged breath and his head dropped. “To relieve a debt, told ‘em I’d hold onto some of it for them. Keep it safe before they moved it. Had a party. Someone found it. Stole it.”

Jesus, this was one stupid-ass motherfucker.

“Where would they take Tyra?” Tack asked and Pipe forced his head up again.

“I’m tellin’ you, I don’t know.”

Tack looked to Hop and gave him a nod.

Hop moved in but this time he pulled the knife from his belt.

“Fuck me! I don’t know! I don’t know!” Pipe screamed. “But I know who’ll know!”

Hop looked over his shoulder. Tack jerked up his chin. Hop moved aside.

“Oleg,” Pipe stated immediately. “Dude’s name is Oleg.”

Tack felt eyes on him and this was because every brother knew everything about the Russians and none of them had heard of Oleg.

“Do not bullshit me, Pipe,” Tack warned.

“I’m not. I wouldn’t. He’s not tight with the Russians. He’s only tight with Lescheva.”

“Then how do you know this guy?”

“I ain’t stupid, man. My neck’s on the line with these fuckers. I been watchin’ and not just Ride.”

“What’s his connection with Lescheva?”

“No clue but my guess is, he’s his out.”

“His out?”

“Lescheva’s time is up, man. He ain’t stupid. He knows that. Only one reason a man gets tight with a man outside his operation but in the family and that’s because he’s makin’ plans. I didn’t get close. I just watched but, lately, they been meetin’ a lot.”

“You know where we can find him?”

“A bar on Evans. Called The Drainpipe.”

Tack jerked his chin up to Boz and Shy and they moved out.

Then he looked to Naomi. “You’ll get the papers Monday.”

She pulled in a visible breath then nodded.

“You’ll sign ‘em.”

She nodded again.

“You’ll get the hundred K never.” Her face lost all its color and she opened her mouth to speak but Tack shook his head and whispered, “You are not smart. You’ve never been smart. Be smart now. You know I am not payin’ for blow.”

Proving his immense stupidity, Pipe jumped in.

“We’re fucked, we don’t get that money.”

“That is not my problem,” Tack replied then he turned and headed to the door.

“What do you want done with them?” Hop asked his back and Tack turned at the door.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he answered and walked out.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Chaos Compound…

There was a sick, liquid noise to it but there was no denying it.

The man was chuckling.

Fuck, they’d been at him for-fucking-ever. The man was made of ice.

They needed to break him.

Now.

“Move away,” Tack growled, yanking the gun out of his belt. Dog moved away from the mangled, bloodied man tied to the chair and Tack put the gun to Oleg’s head. “Where would he take her?”

Oleg’s eyes slid to the side to catch Tack’s and he said with a heavy Russian accent, “Go fuck yourself.”

Tack moved the gun and drilled a round in Oleg’s thigh, the man’s body jerked, he stifled a groan then Tack immediately put the gun back to his head.

“Where would he take her?” he repeated.

“Suck my cock,” Oleg spit out.

Tack moved the gun and drilled another round in Oleg’s other thigh then he moved the gun, shoving it in the soft flesh under Oleg’s chin.

He got nose-to-nose with him and bit out, “Where would he take her?”

“Eat me,” Oleg grunted.

Tack shoved the gun higher and Oleg’s head jerked back as a cell rang in the room.

Tack ignored it and clipped, “Where the fuck would he take her?”

“Kill me, I die knowing where she is and I die knowing you don’t know.”

“Tack,” Dog called and Tack pushed away from the Russian and cut his eyes to his brother. “Hawk. Says police band says that Lucas and Lawson got a lock on a safe house where they think Russians are holding a hostage. They’ve called for backup and put SWAT on alert.”

“Hawk say where this is?” Tack asked.

Dog nodded.

“Let’s go,” Tack grunted, leading the way.

“Clean him up. Clean this shit up. Ask around. Man’s gotta have enemies. Find out who they are. Then put the word out we got him available for trade. We’ll make the deal after we get Cherry.” Tack heard Dog order, probably Arlo and Tug.

But he didn’t turn.

He walked out the door.

* * *

Half an hour later, Littleton, Colorado…

The black van driven by Brick, Tack in the passenger seat, Dog, Hound, High, Boz, Shy and Hop in back rolled up and parked behind the SUV.

Tack got out instantly and walked to the front of the van, rounded it, moved to the curb and saw Lawson standing shielded from the house by the SUV.

“Jesus, are you insane?” Lawson clipped.

“They in there?” Tack asked.

“Broad daylight, Tack, they might have seen you.”

“They. In. There?” Tack bit off, leaning in.

Lawson sucked in breath then ran it down. “Backup’s here. Far’s we know, they don’t know we’re here. Or they didn’t until you showed. We’ve called SWAT. They’re ten minutes out.”

“Then they’re in there,” Tack stated, that burn he’d locked down beginning to rage out of control.

His Red was close. A street and a yard away.

“Slim has gone in for a closer look.”

“Not waitin’ for SWAT,” Tack declared, turned and jerked up his chin at his men who were huddling at the side of the van opposite the house where Tyra was.

He stopped when Lawson clamped a hand on his shoulder and forcibly jerked him around.

Tack locked eyes with Lawson and warned, “Not a good time to touch me, man.”

“Be smart, Tack,” Lawson said quietly. “Tactical gets here, I promise, we’ll get her out.”

“They’ve had her six hours. I’m not makin’ her wait longer,” Tack fired back.

“Shit goes down, Tyra could get hit in the crossfire.”

“My boys know to aim only at the shooters.”

Lawson gave him a glare and muttered, “Fuck, Kane Allen, expect the unexpected.”

“I’m with you.”

This came from beyond Lawson and Tack looked to see Lucas there.

“Fuck, Brock Lucas, wild man,” Lawson muttered.

“I’m in too.”

Tack looked over his shoulder to see Hawk had appeared out of thin air.

“Terrific. Now we can add the commando.” Lawson kept muttering.

“Let’s go,” Tack stated, pulling out his gun.

“Fuck!” Lawson clipped but Tack, Hawk and Lucas were on the move.

Tack saw his brothers were gone. They’d already scattered to take their positions.

Tack felt Lawson move out with them.

Tack, Hawk, Lucas and Lawson strode out from the cars and moved directly to the house.

Not surprisingly, gunfire came out of the house instantly.

All four men ducked low and started running toward the house as cover fire came from every direction. There was so much gunfire it had to be more than his boys. This meant Hawk’s boys were out there too. And, possibly, Nightingale’s.

This served its purpose and drew the fire from the house giving Tack, Hawk, Lucas and Lawson a clean shot to the front door.

In the din, Tack did his best to count gunshots coming from the house.

Two.

At least two men inside to take down.

Once they made it to the door, Tack immediately lifted a boot and kicked it in.

The men surged inside.

The first Russian was down before they even got into the house.

The bullet that went through the other Russian’s gut came from Lucas’s gun.

The bullet that went through Grigori Lescheva’s brain came from Lawson’s.

The men down, Tack saw her in the middle of the room.

Tyra, tied to the chair and even during the gunplay, she didn’t move. Head drooping, her thick, long, wavy dark red hair hanging lank, back bowed, body limp.

Blood was seeping out of her, oozing across the wood floor.